Grieving the Giver

By Alan Mowbray –

A hypothetical man—let’s just call him Alan for the sake of expediency—was praying to God one day.

“Father God, why is it that You never give me any really cool spiritual gifts? I do what You ask. I go to church Sundays, Wednesdays, Men’s meetings, Father/Son events, Couple’s Group. My wife and I even lead a small group in our home. I understand You don’t give all gifts to everyone, but I just want things to be more exciting, purposeful, and worthwhile.”

The man waited for a reply.

What he got was silence.

In fact, Alan heard nothing from God the rest of the day. He went to bed that night, with the same prayer on his mind. Then he dreamed. Of Christmas morning.

In the dream, Alan and his wife stayed up the night before finishing some last-minute present wrapping. They craftily hid these gifts from curious eyes and hardy box shakers. Satisfied their surprise was set, they turned in, and set their alarm clock to be up and ready with cameras when their children awoke the next morning. Their anticipation in giving these hard-earned presents to their beloved easily equaled that felt by the children waiting impatiently for the Wonderful Day to arrive.

When the alarm sounded, Alan and his lovely wife kissed each other good-morning and rolled out of bed to get prepared. The kids would be awake soon.

As they pulled on their robes, they made final plans—she would take pictures and he would kneel by the tree calling to the kids to wake up and see the awesome toys and things awaiting them. Soon they were ready. “Merrrrrrrrrrrry Christmas!!!” Alan hollered with joy.

Seconds later, feet thumped the bedroom floor and squeals of happiness came down the hall. In the corner of the living room, the dog raised his head in the direction of the increasing ruckus. His little people were awake and on the way.

The youngest popped out of her bedroom first. As her small bare feet gained traction on the tile floor, her brother appeared from across the hall—hot on her heels. It was a drag race now. They skidded into the living room and saw their father in front of the tree, arms open to receive their morning hugs, and behind him, the tree. And what a tree it was—loaded with many more gifts than the night before, prior to going to bed.

Alan braced himself for the onslaught of two small bodies hitting him at full speed, ready to grab them, kiss them, and love on them. But when they reached him, they ducked under his arms and fell to their knees in front of the tree, searching frantically for gifts with their name on them, oblivious to their slightly less-excited parents.

The sounds of ripping paper faded and at that moment, Alan awoke. His wife was sleeping soundly beside him. Everything was quiet, except for his spirit—which was broken.

“Now you understand.”

“Yes, Lord.”

“All those gifts I have already given you, are they worn out? Broken? Useless?”

“No, Father.”

“As long as you seek My gifts, but do not seek Me, the gifts I have already given you will lose their luster and shine. All the gifts I have ever given are the same in My eyes. No single gift is greater than the other. But when you seek My gifts and not My heart I am grieved.”

“I’m so sorry, Father. Please forgive my selfish attitude.”

When you seek His gifts without seeking His heart, God is grieved. I am as guilty of this as anyone.

Lord, forgive me for grieving You, the Giver. Holy Spirit, help me to seek the Father’s heart more and what I can get from Him a little less. Amen.

Where Are We? Miracles in Living with Alzheimer’s Series

By Kathleen Brown –

“You, O Lord, keep my lamp burning; my God turns my darkness into light” (NIV Psalm18:28).Though I can’t name the destination yet, I know my life has taken a turn. I’ve started a new journey. I sure hope the Lord has the map.

The motel room is tiny. Two beds, one for my parents, one for me. Each covered with a plain, but practical brown bedspread. A beige, Formica-topped table. A sink on the back wall, shower and toilet on one side, dresser and mirror on the other. Tiny, but fine for a quick overnight stay on our trip to visit my son.

The only crowded spot in the room is the corner by the door where my father stacked all the things my mother insisted on bringing in from the car. Not just the luggage, but the maps and the flashlight, all the tools and the battery jumper cables. Dad didn’t object until Mom started dragging out the floor mats. I laughed, as though it was just a new eccentricity she’s developed. But anxiety buzzed like a mosquito in my brain as she went back and forth to the car, closing the heavy metal door to the room each time she went out, knocking on it when she wanted to bring in another load.

I think back to my surprise a couple of weeks ago when I first mentioned this trip to my father. I expected he’d jump at the chance for a trip to Colorado in the fall. Instead, he hesitated. He wasn’t sure about Mom, he said. “She changes her mind a lot. It’s hard to plan things now.”
But here we are, halfway to our destination, and the trip has been just fine.

Until now.

Once she rests from unloading the car, Mom stands and then turns in a full circle around the little room. She turns once more and finally asks where the TV is.

“Right here on the dresser, Baby,” my father tells her. “See? Right here.” He takes her hand and places it on the television.

“Oh, of course! What am I thinking?” She stares at the TV until Dad turns it on.

I should ask. I should take my father outside and ask him what’s up. But I don’t. I tell myself I don’t want to embarrass him, or Mom. Surely everything’s ok.

During the night I awaken to the sound of her voice, high-pitched and anxious. “Where are we?” she asks my father.

He explains.

Almost immediately she asks again, “Where are we? I need to go home.”

The square brown clock on the bedside table reads 2:43 am. Too early to go home, I tell myself. Or too late.

Where are we, Father? What’s going on? The smooth road of my life has changed, with a sudden curve in a different direction. Where does this road lead, Lord? I feel like I’m driving in the dark with no headlights. But in the night I remember Your goodness. Your power. And I tell myself You won’t leave me in this darkness. You know exactly where we are and You will be with us as we move forward. Our strong refuge, today, tonight, right now. Thank You, Lord, for lighting the way.

Dangerous Miscommunication

By Jennifer Slattery –

Have you ever been fuming mad at someone, only to find out you totally misread the conversation? In our world of rapid-fire communication, faulty perceptions, and misunderstandings, it’s easy to get our wires crossed. Sometimes this is funny. Other times it’s downright painful, and has the potential to destroy relationships and lead to bitterness. If not dealt with.

“For Whoever would love life
and see good days
must keep their tongue from evil
and their lips from deceitful speech.
They must turn from evil and do good;
they must seek peace and pursue it” (1 Peter 3:10-11, NIV).

What do you think of when you hear the word peace? What does it mean to “seek” and “pursue” it? Does this mean avoiding conflict? Holding our tongue? Is peace at all cost truly peace? In our effort to seek peace, are we smiling on the outside while our insides fester? And if so, how long before those bottled-in and swallowed-down emotions blow?

I believe biblical peace runs deeper than a ceasing of war. Biblical peace speaks of wholeness, of restoring things to how they should be.
Biblical peace implies authentic conflict resolution. Honesty, not superficiality. Speaking the truth in love and getting to the root of the issue. When deep hurt has occurred, this may take time. We may even need a third party to help us out.

Other times, we may find that what we thought was an issue wasn’t really an issue after all.

A while back, I received an email from someone I had hurt. Twice. I hadn’t intended to hurt them, wasn’t even aware I had … until I read the email. We realized it was a misunderstanding—a misreading between the lines. The person felt silly for sending me the email, but I was so glad she did. Had she not, her hurt would’ve remained, creating disunity. By honestly expressing her feelings, she gave me the opportunity to apologize and explain.

Afterward, my daughter, her friend, and I had a lengthy conversation on communication errors, and they shared with me similar stories. Times when someone they cared about hurt them deeply. Unintentionally. Only many times, they hadn’t gotten to the truth until weeks or months later–after weeks of hurt, of disunity. We decided it’s best to communicate openly *before* forming our conclusions, giving the “offending” party the benefit of the doubt.

We decided to “seek peace.” The kind of peace that holds tight to relationships, seeking restoration and intimacy.

It is so easy to read between the lines, to assign feelings, judgments, and conclusions to words and actions. But what if our interpretations are wrong?

Let’s talk about this. When have you unwittingly caused someone pain? When have you been hurt by someone else, only to find out you assigned faulty meaning to their words and actions? How can we avoid this communication jumbling?

Bitter or Better?

By Lori Freeland –

Why is it that when bad things happen to some people they emerge better and stronger at the other end of the crisis while other people shrivel up and build steel walls to keep others out?

Eight years ago, my son was diagnosed with leukemia right before his eleventh birthday. Because his age put him at a higher risk, his treatment plan was harsh and everything that could go wrong did go wrong. We spent a lot of time in the hospital the first year of his almost four-year struggle.

When you’re in and out of a small isolated hall on the fourth floor of the children’s wing, bonding with other parents becomes natural. Seeing the same faces over and over makes for fast friendships. Especially when you’re taking cover in the same sterile foxhole.

Years later, a few of those moms I befriended have grown stronger, others have broken, and some are barely hanging on years after cancer rocked their world. It almost doesn’t seem to matter if the child made it to remission or not.

When something bad happens, you have two choices. Be bitter or be better.

So what made the difference in these moms? Personality? Personal beliefs? Support system?

From my experience, I would have to say none of those things.

I believe hope made the difference. But not any hope. Hope in something real. Hope in something outside of ourselves. Hope in a life-changing God.

If you choose to be bitter, you build your future on rage and hate and resentment. And really when you think about that, all that anger only hurts you. That big ball of acid tartness you’re carrying around your heart only eats at you. No one else. The bitterness steals your joy and renders you useless to reach out to anyone else.

“Another man dies in bitterness of soul, never having enjoyed anything good” (Job 21:25 NIV).

If you choose to be better, you let all the bad stuff go. You ask God to take an extremely horrible situation and make something beautiful. He can, you know. He’s the only one that can turn ugly into exquisite. He uses your trials to transform and uses you to help others.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him” James 1:2-5).

The next time you face a trauma, remember you aren’t powerless. You have the will to choose, will this struggle make you bitter or better?

The Seeds of Relationship

By DiAne Gates –

SCRIPTURE: “Do not be deceived, God is not mocked; for whatever a man sows, this he will also reap” (Galatians 6:7 NAS).

The law of the harvest is: You reap what you sow, later than you sow, and more than you sow. Americans have sown to the wind for generations and we are beginning to reap the whirlwind, just as God said we would in Hosea 8:7

Remember when we were children? All it took was that look from Mom or Dad. If we were misbehaving—we stopped. If the look showed approval—we continued. There was visual contact. Nothing between our face and their faces.

As we grew older, we didn’t have to watch Mom or Dad’s eyes to sense their approval or disapproval. We knew what their responses would be because we knew them. The more we know who God is, through the power of His Word, the more we experience living in the light of His mercy and grace, the more we understand and know Him too. There is to be nothing between His face and our face. That’s relationship.

Too many of us find ourselves trapped in the garbage heap of deception and lies that capture and suffocate, preventing us from having a clear picture of who God is and what He is doing. Deceptive clouds distort our vision and lies disable our GPS and our ability to find Him.

God created a spot, in each one of us, for His Spirit to live. Without Him that place is empty, and we can’t fill it. It’s reserved for God. Without the Spirit of God our lives are chasms where whirlwinds develop and grow. Whirlwinds that have the potential to destroy us. Forever.

I walked in rebellion to God for years. I knew about Jesus, but was attempting to work my way to goodness. But I couldn’t do it. I had no personal relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ.

When I could no longer walk the tightrope between church-y-ness and the world, God brought me to the end of myself. I knew I was a sinner. I believed Jesus died to save me. I gave my allegiance, my heart and my life to His Lordship. Then He forgave me. Redeemed and restored me and gave me what I didn’t deserve. Because of His mercy and grace.

I’m forgiven. But consequences of past rebellion remain. I couldn’t teach my children what I didn’t know. But I didn’t teach them what I knew, that the consequences of sin are like tire tracks through patches of bluebonnets.

The Texas sun coaxes these flowers to sweep the pastures and roadsides in Spring. But they also brings swarms of folks to have their pictures taken in this ocean of blue. And those tracks and prints leave a trail of destruction through the bluebonnets, just like sin treads and tramples our life and the lives of those we influence. While the field and the plants remain in the pasture, the trampled blossoms never recover and don’t produce seeds for the next generation of bluebonnets.
Sin produces the same affect in the lives of those we touch. Tire tracks of anger and footprints of rebellion are stamped into the lives of our children. They maim and destroy seeds of love, trust, and relationship before they can blossom and reseed.

God doesn’t have grandchildren, only children. The choice to accept His mercy and grace through the blood of Christ—forgiveness—is an individual’s choice.

Do you murmur over treads and tramples that sin has deposited across the pages of your life? Or have you given your heart completely to God so that He can transform the ashes of sin into a life that blooms, reseeds, and gives glory to Him?

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