An Off Brand Life

By Heather Allen –

Can I tell you what I want from life? Do you have a minute to pull up a chair? I want a smallish house with beautiful plants surrounding it and a roof made of shakes. Smells wafting from the kitchen that welcome visitors and make them want to stay for the cookies in the oven; sounds of kids laughing, with me straining to hear all the ridiculously cute things they are saying. Permanence: same house, same garden, new friends are okay, same grocery store, same streets. But ah, it seems that it is not to be.

My heart feels a little tattered tonight, like a rag flappin’ out on the line.

At age 13 I told my mom I did not want an ordinary life. How I wish I could go back and muzzle that big-mouthed girl. There is enough adventure in books. Fictional characters do not lay awake at night worrying about their kids adjusting.

So here I am another house in another state, but thankfully a little closer to those I love best. Yet I feel my life is an itchy sweater with seams that keep twisting up my body. The tag at the neck is driving me to distraction: it’s fixating. I cannot breathe right, I do not feel right, but I just keep yanking at that tag. It is easier than learning to live with it, or around it.

If God put His hand on my head my whole body would probably still be squirming. There is only one conversation I am looking to have but He keeps bringing me back to where we started “Set your heart on pilgrimage”.

I do not like being a pilgrim, and it doesn’t strike me as a very family friendly lifestyle.   My mind spins and forms an extensive list of questions, so I read the book of Job. He had questions about his life. It started well, but not even halfway through the first chapter he starts a downhill spiral. I am a bit dramatic, but I can relate to his confusion and his longing for some answers.

At the heart of my conflicted life lies a deep desire to see the extraordinary, even if it means traveling to the ends of the earth. So I will endeavor to set my heart on pilgrimage. Believing a God whose knowledge spans beginning to end, I will learn to trust.  He left His home to save me; I can leave mine too.

“My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.” Job 42:5 (NIV)

“Blessed are those whose strength is in you, who have set their hearts on pilgrimage.” Psalms 84:5 (NIV)

The Next Dictator

By Jane Thornton –

Rain slashed across the windshield, wipers frantically flapping to eke out a hint of visibility. Inside our cocoon of dryness, Meredith, my five-year-old daughter, sat in the passenger seat. (For those of you who just inhaled with mighty outrage, this preceded the current laws about car seats, weight, etc.) The downpour and our surprise over it inspired a conversation about weather and weathermen.

“I don’t want to be a weatherman when I grow up.” Merry’s conclusion was definite.

Peering through the storm, I hummed noncommittally and stopped at the intersection.

“They’re sometimes wrong.” Her hazel eyes reflected none of the conflict surrounding her.

Wow. I managed to hold back my hilarity as I pondered where to start sermonizing about how everyone is wrong occasionally. Before I could settle on a place to begin, she continued.

“I want to tell everyone…” Her gaze probed the car’s headliner for the exact phrase. “I just want to…”

I waited with bated breath.

“…you know…control all…” Lips pursed, she deliberated. “…the whole world.”

A daughter after my own heart.

On the job, I still cling to some psychology I learned years ago in my education classes, clutching at all the control I can get. I wear black on the first day of school. I learn my students’ names within three days (good for other reasons, but my speed is highly motivated by the need for a small degree of power).

At home, I try harder to control my urge to control. The stereotype of the nagging shrew who treats her husband like a child repels me, so I make a conscious effort to curb my tongue—usually. I do find myself falling into the habit of asking questions to which I already know the answers, just to subtly get my way. My children are pretty much grown, nineteen and twenty-one. But as long as they are financially dependent on me… there I go again.

“Now listen, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.’ Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, ‘If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that’” (James 4:13-15 NIV).

A hard verse for a veteran planner. And, of course, we can find many Scriptures that also encourage preparation. The primary goal here is to learn to recognize and acknowledge God’s sovereignty—and to find peace in it. His hands are so much better at the wheel than mine.

Battle of the Siblings

By Jane Thornton –

I stormed through the doorway of the church classroom, flounced into a plastic chair, crossed my arms, and exclaimed, “I hate Mark!” Thus ended the battle between my seventeen-year-old brother and me—and our privilege of sleeping a little later on Sunday mornings and driving in on our own instead of riding the church’s bus route with our parents.

The mêlée began as I preened in front of the mirror with a curling iron. Mark hollered that we needed to leave. I bawled back that I was almost (halfway, in teen-girlese) ready. We repeated the exchange at least once. Patience thoroughly tested and failed, Mark swaggered in and manhandled the styling utensil from my hand, both of us miraculously managing to escape a burn.

I shrieked. I dug in my heels.

To no avail—my athletic brother literally dragged me, hair half-styled, yowling threats of repercussions, to the car and stuffed me in. I’m sure the streaks of tears and angry scowl I wore were much more unflattering than the frizzy half of my hairdo.

Not the finest Christ-like moment for either of us.

Unfortunately, it does not stand alone in our high school history. On another morning, we were leaving for school. Mark blasted the horn of the El Camino. I scurried out of the house. (I believe he would say I meandered.) I plopped into the passenger seat. (He would describe my motion as easing into place.) Leaving my door open, I thrust my folder and books onto the floorboard. (His version, I fussily arranged my supplies.) Tolerance pushed to the breaking point, Mark threw the truck into reverse and gunned the engine.

This time it was metal that shrieked. The basketball goal caught my open door and twisted the protesting iron completely off the truck.

Poor Mark, his graduation present was a new door for Daddy’s vehicle. I still feel guilty about that consequence even though I swear to this day I was not intentionally testing him.

These days, the memory of those farcical skirmishes draws rueful laughter, but at the time, resentment and bitterness brewed inside the automatic love for a sibling. In college, after a couple of years of distance, we discovered that we enjoyed each other’s company. He wrote me a poem for my twentieth birthday about realizing he not only loved me but liked me, too. I treasure my friendship with my big brother, and our combat has long ended.

In a recent Christmas letter, I described our congregation as extended family. I’m sorry to say we’ve been having some sibling battles there, too, but these conflicts have challenged my faith unlike any run-in with my blood relatives. Perhaps an insecurity exists without the blood bond. Perhaps we all expect more from each other because we’re adults and Christians. Perhaps we should.

However, the memory of those early clashes reminds me that family life is not always smooth. Each person has achieved a different level of maturity. We do have the bond of Christ’s blood, and we can grow past the resentment into a deeper love and acceptance.

“For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen. And he has given us this command:  whoever loves God must also love his brother” (I John 4:20b-21).

The Lost Coin

By Nina Medrano-

I remember when my Aunt Sally ran away from home. My grandmother called my mother and asked us to please pray for Sally for she was only 13 years old and could not be found.

On the third day the Holy Spirit said to me, “Thank me for bringing Sally home.”  Immediately, I gave him thanks and greatly rejoiced with the Spirit. An hour later, we got a phone call from my grandmother letting us know that Sally had returned home unharmed. Today, my Aunt Sally is a grown woman with children and grandchildren of her own.

The Holy Spirit brought back this memory the morning. He (the Holy Spirit) awakened me at 4:00 A.M., prompting me to drive around our city and pray according to Luke 15 (NIV): The Parable of the Lost Coin.

“Or suppose a woman has ten silver coins and loses one. Does she not light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, ‘Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.’ In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

As I drove around our city, I began to pray and ask the Holy Spirit to sweep across our city, look for the lost coins, the lost sons, daughters, father, mothers, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews, grandchildren, great grandchildren who have lost their way home.

I asked the Lord to light the demonic dark and hidden places in this city; turn on the search lights in the drug-users homes, in the houses of prostitution, under the bridges, in the night clubs, in the pornographic theaters. Drive back the demonic strongholds! Break off the chains of addiction, shame, poverty, and financial ill-gains!

By this time I was weeping uncontrollably as I asked the Spirit to search and find every loved one that is lost in this city and restore them to Abba Father’s House and to their families—restore them to Kingdom usefulness, restore them to divine purpose, restore them to their God-given destinies. Restore. Restore. Restore!

As a declaration of faith, I give God thanks and praise for hearing and honoring this prayer for my city and for yours.

Nina Medrano, a lover of God’s Word, lives in Lubbock, Texas, and writes for her church blog: http://www.cotrwomensministry.blogspot.com/

The Lazarus Effect

By Marty Norman –

Jesus wept. Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him”(John 11:35-36 NIV).

Jesus had many friends. But Mary, Martha and Lazarus were counted among his closest. So it is no surprise that when Jesus arrived at the tomb after Lazarus died he wept, for he loved much. Even the Jews saw how much he loved him.

As we enter into the month of February, the world’s epitome of and definition for love, we hear repeated commercials and advertisement regarding expressions of that love through the gifting of candy and flowers, valentines and gifts. It might do us well to stop and compare scriptural love to worldly love.

Recently I watched a rerun of “Shakespeare in Love” with Gwyneth Paltrow and Joseph Fiennes. A fun movie, although fictional, its viewing prompted research on my part of the play it depicted.  According to worldly standards and reviews read, “Romeo and Juliet” is a portrayal of true emotional and spiritual love.

The story of love is birthed in the midst of chaos and broken relationship as two members from feuding families find each other and fall in love. Residents of a broken world they are unable, because of prejudice and judgment, to come together in freedom. They, therefore, choose to die in order to not be separated. It is through their love experienced in death that their families reconcile as they set aside differences and forgive.

Although awe-inspiring and spell binding, Shakespeare misrepresents real love.  His love is based on emotion, a worldly romantic, passionate, love at first sight kind of love, unselfish but limited by the boundaries and stipulations of others.

Contrast that with scriptural love. Unconditional, it is self-sacrificing the kind of love God has for his children. Pure and without judgment it is uplifting. According to I Corinthians 13 this kind of love is patient and kind. It does not boast nor is proud, rude or self-seeking. Rather it rejoices in truth, protects, trusts, hopes and perseveres.

First John 4:19 (NIV) tells us that “we love because he first loved us.” A clearer statement can’t be found. We love as we are loved. One cannot give love if one has never received it. Even in the best of circumstances, there is no way that worldly love can express or portray this kind of supernatural love. For real love is a commitment and a covenant. Rather than a feeling it is a decision, based on an act of the will. Denying self, one chooses to put others first. We choose to love by serving others. We put ourselves second, sacrificing in ways that are at some cost to ourselves.

John tells us that Jesus was love. He demonstrated the extent of his love by sacrificing himself. John 15:23 (NIV) says, “Greater love has no one than this that he lay down his life for his friends.” That is what Jesus did for us on the cross.

One of the most beautiful examples of love in scripture is the story of the sinful woman who anoints Jesus before his death with a vial of perfume. Some report that this was Mary, the sister of Lazarus. As she anoints Jesus’ feet, this woman never stops kissing him. Her gratitude for his love and forgiveness has no bounds. Of her Jesus says, “Her many sins have been forgiven – for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little” (Luke 7:47 NIV).

The Lazarus effect is very powerful. Applied to our world today, this unconditional, selfless, protective love can change the world. The Bible illustrates that love heals all things, even to overcoming death. Here the love of God, the love of Christ himself, brings life, not death. In this type of love God is glorified.

As humans we often need a physical manifestation in order to understand a spiritual principal. But in this case, one need only look into the eyes of a baby or small child. The light, love, hope and trust seen in their depth will bring one to his knees. I am blessed to see this manifestation on a daily basis from my grandchildren.

Let us learn a lesson from the story of Lazarus. Even in the depths of our prisons, tombs of death in which we reside, let us listen for the voice of the one who loves without measure. When he calls, “Lazarus, come forth” (John 11:43 NIV), let us hear our own name. Let us set aside our grave clothes and move into the light of love that is Christ.

And having experienced the Lazarus effect, let us pass it on to others by loving them unconditionally as we introduce them to Jesus. By doing so, they too will be brought out of the darkness of the tomb into the light of eternity.

Marty Norman is a wife, mother, and grandmother of five, who lives in Fort Worth, Texas.  She is the author of “Generation G – Advice for Savvy Grandmothers Who Will Never Go Gray.” You can learn more about her at:   www.martynorman.com, http://martynorman.blogspot.com, http://savvygrandmothers.blogspot.com.

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