Last week was my husband's birthday. I wanted to surprise him with something special (other than the new laser-guided mitre saw I gave him--so many power tools, so little time!) so I made reservations at a lovely hotel in the North Carolina mountains. When he arrived home from work on Friday, I said, "Get in the car, we're going somewhere." He had no idea where we were going and tried to guess a time or two, but eventually I could see the stress lines on his face begin to smooth out as he leaned back and enjoyed the ride. When we arrived at the hotel, we were delighted to find our beautiful room featured its own private balcony that overlooked the river. We slept that night with the balcony window open so we could listen to the soothing rush of the water over the rocks. Sometimes getting away from the daily pressures and tension is the best medicine.
Jesus says in Mark 6:31, "Come aside by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while . . ." When life becomes brutal, a temporary reprieve for a breath of fresh air offers the opportunity to seek out the sanctuary of God's grace. We've all heard it said that God won't ever put more on us than we can bear. If God brings you to it, He'll bring you through it. After a while those statements begin to sound like over-used cliches to the one going through the difficulty. When we find ourselves drowning in stress, we don't need cliches. All we want to hear is the whisper of God's voice telling us to come away for a while, rest in the comfort of His sanctuary, refresh our spirit and renew ourselves in His presence.
During the months I was caring for our son during his cancer battle, I was "on call" 24/7. Taking a physical vacation was out of the question. No force on earth could have torn me away from him. But I still sought the rest and sanctuary of God's presence. In the midst of the the ravages of my son's disease, the long hours, the sleepless nights, the grim faces of the doctors, and the intimidating side effects of my son's treatment, I could stay within God's sanctuary. He walked with me through every aspect of the disease, and as long as I didn't run ahead of Him, I could remain in His shadow. Only if I strayed would I be vulnerable.
When my strength and endurance fails, I have an advocate. His is my refuge and rock. He is my shelter and strong tower. When I feel like running away from home, I run to Him. The best news is, I don't have to make reservations or an appointment, I don't have to fill out insurance forms or sit in a waiting room, and nobody will ask me for my credit card number. He is near, closer than my own breath. When I am confronted by fear, weariness, dispair, or just plain day to day stress, where else would I go but to my God? He is calling to me to come away with Him for a season--a respite of renewal, a safe place in the shadow of His wings.
Thanks for letting my share my heart.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Constructive Convalescing
Experiencing hurtful circumstances is like going through surgery. There is pain, fear, and a tense time of waiting, but there is also reassurance from the surgeon, comfort from the nurses, and get-well wishes from friends. Sitting in a waiting room while surgery is performed on someone we love can be just as painful, sometimes more so, than undergoing the procedure ourselves. Afterward, there may be physical therapy along with a period of slow healing. The eventual outcome is a healthier person.
Spiritual surgery isn't too much different from the physical type, except the roles are played by Someone we can't see. The Surgeon who cuts away the harmful or destroyed tissue doesn't have an MD next to His name. He is higher and greater than any physician on earth, and His name is Jehovah-Ropheka, the Lord our healer. The role of the nurse who administers physical comfort is now taken over by the Holy Spirit, the One whom Jesus sent after Himself to be our Comforter. As we submit ourselves to the ministrations of God, we can expect a transformation, but it's rarely a season of ease. Most often, this operation is an ordeal of painful consequence, but one of necessity. The spiritual waiting room can be lonely and frightening unless we allow God to shed His light around us.
God has brought to my attention recently, something of which we are all aware, but often lose sight of. It's easy to forget that others are struggling through difficult circumstances when our own situation looms as a daunting mountain. All around us are people who have lost loved ones, perhaps they are fighting to keep their head above troubled financial waters, watching disturbing events unfold in their lives and having no power to change them, or experiencing the ache of watching a child make unwise, and potentially disasterous choices.
When God allows us to walk through a dark and frightening valley, of course we can rejoice in the comfort of knowing He is as close to us as our very breath. There are others around us, traveling through similar pain, but our focus is on ourselves, our loved ones, our situation, and hopefully our God. If I've learned nothing else in the past three years, it's that God never wastes a hurt, and nothing takes Him by surprise.
During our time of healing, the blinders fall away from our eyes, and we become aware of those hurting people around us. Their situation may not be exactly like ours, but their pain is just as real. As our surgical scars begin to heal and God brings renewed strength, we are confronted with opportunities to be a blessing to others. It might be a ministry we didn't desire or choose, but one for which God prepared us through our own journey through pain.
Those who struggle around us take on a new importance. We are given a fresh look at the pain of others. Because we've been there ourselves, compassion loans us insight into their struggle. Allowing God to use us to minister to these is akin to working side by side with the Holy Spirit as He pours out comfort, mercy, and grace.
When we enter into a time of spiritual surgery, we need do so with a watchful heart. No doubt God is preparing us to be a vessel for His use. It's up to us whether or not we allow God to fill us and use us. What a waste it would be if we discarded all that pain and heartache we encountered and let the memories of God's comfort and mercy crumble into dust.
Thanks for letting me share my heart.
Spiritual surgery isn't too much different from the physical type, except the roles are played by Someone we can't see. The Surgeon who cuts away the harmful or destroyed tissue doesn't have an MD next to His name. He is higher and greater than any physician on earth, and His name is Jehovah-Ropheka, the Lord our healer. The role of the nurse who administers physical comfort is now taken over by the Holy Spirit, the One whom Jesus sent after Himself to be our Comforter. As we submit ourselves to the ministrations of God, we can expect a transformation, but it's rarely a season of ease. Most often, this operation is an ordeal of painful consequence, but one of necessity. The spiritual waiting room can be lonely and frightening unless we allow God to shed His light around us.
God has brought to my attention recently, something of which we are all aware, but often lose sight of. It's easy to forget that others are struggling through difficult circumstances when our own situation looms as a daunting mountain. All around us are people who have lost loved ones, perhaps they are fighting to keep their head above troubled financial waters, watching disturbing events unfold in their lives and having no power to change them, or experiencing the ache of watching a child make unwise, and potentially disasterous choices.
When God allows us to walk through a dark and frightening valley, of course we can rejoice in the comfort of knowing He is as close to us as our very breath. There are others around us, traveling through similar pain, but our focus is on ourselves, our loved ones, our situation, and hopefully our God. If I've learned nothing else in the past three years, it's that God never wastes a hurt, and nothing takes Him by surprise.
During our time of healing, the blinders fall away from our eyes, and we become aware of those hurting people around us. Their situation may not be exactly like ours, but their pain is just as real. As our surgical scars begin to heal and God brings renewed strength, we are confronted with opportunities to be a blessing to others. It might be a ministry we didn't desire or choose, but one for which God prepared us through our own journey through pain.
Those who struggle around us take on a new importance. We are given a fresh look at the pain of others. Because we've been there ourselves, compassion loans us insight into their struggle. Allowing God to use us to minister to these is akin to working side by side with the Holy Spirit as He pours out comfort, mercy, and grace.
When we enter into a time of spiritual surgery, we need do so with a watchful heart. No doubt God is preparing us to be a vessel for His use. It's up to us whether or not we allow God to fill us and use us. What a waste it would be if we discarded all that pain and heartache we encountered and let the memories of God's comfort and mercy crumble into dust.
Thanks for letting me share my heart.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
I can't, but HE can
Have you ever been faced with a monumental task and thought, "I can't do this!" Sometimes God asks things of us that we view as arduous or intimidating, but which He intends as an opportunity. A situation that is far beyond the safe confines of our comfort zone can stretch our faith and strain our capacity to trust to a tenuous degree.
When we find ourselves in this position, we have a variety of choices. The easiest choice is to simply refuse delivery. But saying "no" has its consequenses, the least of which is loss of a blessing and the most grievious being loss of fellowship with God.
We could step tentatively along, agreeing to follow God's leading, until the pressure becomes too intense, at which time we find, or invent, an excuse to discontinue participation. But that, too, would fracture our intimacy with God.
What if the request is someting about which you feel passionate, but the circumstances to fulfill the task cause you to quake in your shoes?
I was reminded this week by a dear friend that when God directed Moses to confront Pharaoh and be a voice for the people of Israel, Moses responded with an excuse. He told God he wasn't a good speaker and didn't know what to say. So God asked him, "Who made your mouth? Was it not Me, the Lord?" Then God directed Moses to go, and He would tell him what to say.
This week I was asked to appear at the Georgia State Capitol and speak to the Senate Sub-Committee regarding an issue about which I feel passionate. The Cancer Treatment Centers Of America asked me to testify to the members of this committee about the incredible treatment my son received at their Tulsa facility. While I was elated at the prospect of Cancer Treatment Centers Of America locating a new facility in Georgia, the very thought of speaking to senators and congressmen filled me with such a dread, I nearly forgot how to breathe. But I said "yes" wondering at the time if perhaps I'd lost my mind.
When the day arrived, I thanked God that one of my best friends volunteered to drive me to downtown Atlanta, because she knows of my phobia of Atlanta traffic. (Thanks, Suze!) One prayer answered! Then, because the sub-committe's docket was so full, they limited the number of people who could speak. So I was asked to go down to the offices of the senators in our district and speak to them one on one.
"God, I can't do this!" I repeated it silently every step of the way down the stairs and the hallway. "God, I can't do this! You know how I stutter and stammer when I'm nervous. These senators will think I'm nothing but a blathering idiot. That won't do CTCA any good. They need someone who is eloquent and articulate. I can't do this!"
And God said, "I made your mouth. Now go. I will tell you what to say."
And I said, "But God, I can't do this!"
And God said, "I know, but I can."
At the end of the day, the vote was taken and the sub-committee voted 9-5 in CTCA's favor. I was thrilled, but the vote wasn't the reason why. God allowed me to do something I never believed I could do. By clinging desperately to His hand and trusting in His power, for the first time since my son's initial diagnosis, I felt like I was doing something important to help defeat this evil and brutal disease. But it wasn't me who did it. God just used my mouth, and my heart, to speak to these men and women, to somehow convince them how much we need a facility like CTCA here in Georgia.
It wasn't me, it was Him. And a special thanks goes to Josh, my son's best friend, for reminding me Who God is, and who I am. Thanks Josh. I owe you the best dinner I know how to make. Your choice.
Thanks for letting me share my heart.
When we find ourselves in this position, we have a variety of choices. The easiest choice is to simply refuse delivery. But saying "no" has its consequenses, the least of which is loss of a blessing and the most grievious being loss of fellowship with God.
We could step tentatively along, agreeing to follow God's leading, until the pressure becomes too intense, at which time we find, or invent, an excuse to discontinue participation. But that, too, would fracture our intimacy with God.
What if the request is someting about which you feel passionate, but the circumstances to fulfill the task cause you to quake in your shoes?
I was reminded this week by a dear friend that when God directed Moses to confront Pharaoh and be a voice for the people of Israel, Moses responded with an excuse. He told God he wasn't a good speaker and didn't know what to say. So God asked him, "Who made your mouth? Was it not Me, the Lord?" Then God directed Moses to go, and He would tell him what to say.
This week I was asked to appear at the Georgia State Capitol and speak to the Senate Sub-Committee regarding an issue about which I feel passionate. The Cancer Treatment Centers Of America asked me to testify to the members of this committee about the incredible treatment my son received at their Tulsa facility. While I was elated at the prospect of Cancer Treatment Centers Of America locating a new facility in Georgia, the very thought of speaking to senators and congressmen filled me with such a dread, I nearly forgot how to breathe. But I said "yes" wondering at the time if perhaps I'd lost my mind.
When the day arrived, I thanked God that one of my best friends volunteered to drive me to downtown Atlanta, because she knows of my phobia of Atlanta traffic. (Thanks, Suze!) One prayer answered! Then, because the sub-committe's docket was so full, they limited the number of people who could speak. So I was asked to go down to the offices of the senators in our district and speak to them one on one.
"God, I can't do this!" I repeated it silently every step of the way down the stairs and the hallway. "God, I can't do this! You know how I stutter and stammer when I'm nervous. These senators will think I'm nothing but a blathering idiot. That won't do CTCA any good. They need someone who is eloquent and articulate. I can't do this!"
And God said, "I made your mouth. Now go. I will tell you what to say."
And I said, "But God, I can't do this!"
And God said, "I know, but I can."
At the end of the day, the vote was taken and the sub-committee voted 9-5 in CTCA's favor. I was thrilled, but the vote wasn't the reason why. God allowed me to do something I never believed I could do. By clinging desperately to His hand and trusting in His power, for the first time since my son's initial diagnosis, I felt like I was doing something important to help defeat this evil and brutal disease. But it wasn't me who did it. God just used my mouth, and my heart, to speak to these men and women, to somehow convince them how much we need a facility like CTCA here in Georgia.
It wasn't me, it was Him. And a special thanks goes to Josh, my son's best friend, for reminding me Who God is, and who I am. Thanks Josh. I owe you the best dinner I know how to make. Your choice.
Thanks for letting me share my heart.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Extreme Makeover--HEART Edition
I love the show Extreme Makeover--Home Edition. The Makeover team arrives at someone's house and calls them outside and tells them the good news: they're going to get a beautiful, brand new home, and while it's being built the family goes on vacation. Many of the stories submitted by the families are heart wrenching to say the least.
After the family leaves, the demolition begins. The family watches via video camera, as their old house is torn down in a matter a few minutes. Sometimes the expressions on their faces range from joy and excitement to pain or sorrow or even regret depending on the memories the old house holds. But the tearing down must take place before the building up of the new house can happen.
When God views our old heart, I wonder what He sees. Decay and crumbling structure due to sin? Weak, vulnerable places due to neglect? Broken places due to sorrow and heartache? He sees all that and more. He also sees a heart with possibilities. He looks beyond the present and conceives a dynamic heart filled with joy and praise, a heart of worship linked to a life lived for Him. He sees past the ruin and waste, past the tears and brokenness to a heart that can be renovated, rebuilt and restored. But the tearing down of the old must take place first before God can renew the heart.
God's Makeover Team consists of Himself, His Son, and the Holy Spirit. Together they do what no man can do. God can intervene in a life regardless of the condition of the heart, and create a beautiful new heart--one that beats in synchronization with His. Sometimes the demolition process is painful. Bitter memories are cut away. Regrets are torn down. Anguish and disappointment are raked away. Grief and mourning are burned off. Then, in the midst of the ashes and debris, there emerges the new. A new-found joy, a new song, new praise, and new mercy. New glory rains down, new strength rises up, and new comfort sustains.
For the TV show, each family must make a video and send it in along with hundreds of recommendation letters written by other people declaring support for the family. To receive God's makeover, all one must do is ask, believing He will keep His promises. There are no screaming team members or huge crowds. But I'd be willing to bet the angels in heaven are doing some serious rejoicing. When God takes an old heart and makes it new again, that's what I call an Extreme Makeover--Heart Edition.
Thanks for letting me share my (madeover) heart.
After the family leaves, the demolition begins. The family watches via video camera, as their old house is torn down in a matter a few minutes. Sometimes the expressions on their faces range from joy and excitement to pain or sorrow or even regret depending on the memories the old house holds. But the tearing down must take place before the building up of the new house can happen.
When God views our old heart, I wonder what He sees. Decay and crumbling structure due to sin? Weak, vulnerable places due to neglect? Broken places due to sorrow and heartache? He sees all that and more. He also sees a heart with possibilities. He looks beyond the present and conceives a dynamic heart filled with joy and praise, a heart of worship linked to a life lived for Him. He sees past the ruin and waste, past the tears and brokenness to a heart that can be renovated, rebuilt and restored. But the tearing down of the old must take place first before God can renew the heart.
God's Makeover Team consists of Himself, His Son, and the Holy Spirit. Together they do what no man can do. God can intervene in a life regardless of the condition of the heart, and create a beautiful new heart--one that beats in synchronization with His. Sometimes the demolition process is painful. Bitter memories are cut away. Regrets are torn down. Anguish and disappointment are raked away. Grief and mourning are burned off. Then, in the midst of the ashes and debris, there emerges the new. A new-found joy, a new song, new praise, and new mercy. New glory rains down, new strength rises up, and new comfort sustains.
For the TV show, each family must make a video and send it in along with hundreds of recommendation letters written by other people declaring support for the family. To receive God's makeover, all one must do is ask, believing He will keep His promises. There are no screaming team members or huge crowds. But I'd be willing to bet the angels in heaven are doing some serious rejoicing. When God takes an old heart and makes it new again, that's what I call an Extreme Makeover--Heart Edition.
Thanks for letting me share my (madeover) heart.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Homecoming Day
I was going through a box of photographs yesterday and found a picture of my son, Jonathan, and his date, all dressed up for homecoming. The photo was taken in 1995. Handsome rascal that he was, his heart-melting grin warmed me as I gazed at the picture. Back then, homecoming meant pep rallies and week-long festivities, football games, topped off by the homecoming celebration held in the school gymnasium with the kids dressed to the nines.
Homecoming means something else entirely now. January 10, 2006 was Homecoming Day for Jonathan. God reached down and cradled my son in His arms and took him Home. Jonathan left behind the pain and brutality of cancer and took up residence in heaven. He's home, he's safe, he's whole, he's cancer-free.
While he lingered on this earth, his days centered around medications, treatments, doctors and hospitals, side effects, and pain. Now his days are filled with singing and praising the One who died so he could have life. The place we call heaven, my son calls home.
When I am out and about, people sometimes comment about the Marine Corps shirts I often wear. They ask if I have a son in the Corps, and I tell them yes. Then the next question is always, "Where is he?" When I tell them he is in heaven, they always say how sorry they are. I tell them, "Don't be sorry. I know where he is, and I know I will see him again some day. 2nd Samuel 12:23 says that my son cannot come to where I am, but I will go to where he is."
We try to imagine what heaven will be like through scripture. We talk about streets of gold and gates of pearl, a land where there is no night because Jesus is the Light that illumines heaven. We try to picture heaven in our mind, but I don't think we can truly know until we get there ourselves.
I'm anxious to go. God has blessed me beyond measure on this earth, but I can't wait to go Home. I want to see Jonathan again. I want to be where he is. I want to laugh with him again. But most of all, I want to be where Jesus is. I want to fall down and worship Him. I want to sing His praise and kiss the nailprints in His feet. Who can imagine the glory of Homecoming Day?
My son is living it.
Thanks for letting me share my heart.
Homecoming means something else entirely now. January 10, 2006 was Homecoming Day for Jonathan. God reached down and cradled my son in His arms and took him Home. Jonathan left behind the pain and brutality of cancer and took up residence in heaven. He's home, he's safe, he's whole, he's cancer-free.
While he lingered on this earth, his days centered around medications, treatments, doctors and hospitals, side effects, and pain. Now his days are filled with singing and praising the One who died so he could have life. The place we call heaven, my son calls home.
When I am out and about, people sometimes comment about the Marine Corps shirts I often wear. They ask if I have a son in the Corps, and I tell them yes. Then the next question is always, "Where is he?" When I tell them he is in heaven, they always say how sorry they are. I tell them, "Don't be sorry. I know where he is, and I know I will see him again some day. 2nd Samuel 12:23 says that my son cannot come to where I am, but I will go to where he is."
We try to imagine what heaven will be like through scripture. We talk about streets of gold and gates of pearl, a land where there is no night because Jesus is the Light that illumines heaven. We try to picture heaven in our mind, but I don't think we can truly know until we get there ourselves.
I'm anxious to go. God has blessed me beyond measure on this earth, but I can't wait to go Home. I want to see Jonathan again. I want to be where he is. I want to laugh with him again. But most of all, I want to be where Jesus is. I want to fall down and worship Him. I want to sing His praise and kiss the nailprints in His feet. Who can imagine the glory of Homecoming Day?
My son is living it.
Thanks for letting me share my heart.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
My God Is An Awsome God
Recently on Fox News, the hosts of the morning show Fox & Friends read a list of words or phrases certain intellectuals have requested no longer be used by talk show hosts. While I agreed with a few, some bordered on the ridiculous. However, it reminded me about the words and phrases I hear on a regular basis, that I wish I didn't.
For example, how many times do we hear the word LIKE in casual conversation? "That outfit is like, so like, 20th century. Like, I mean, like where does she shop? Like, at a thrift store?"
Okay, like that might be a like poor example, but like you get my drift. Doesn't it just make you want to grab the person by the shoulders and shake them till their teeth rattle. Or better yet, doesn't it make you want to run out and buy them a thesaurus?
Another phrase I hear regularly that I wish I didn't is the use of God's name as an exclamation. If someone desires to cry out to God in a time of crisis, then using "Oh! My God!" might be appropriate. Is it a heartfelt plea for God's help and presence in a time of danger or dispair? Is God's name used in an attitude of reverence and awe? If not, then perhaps this person too, is in need of a thesaurus.
One of the most over-used and mis-used words today is AWESOME. There is little on this earth that I see as truly awe-inspiring. Our English language is loaded with superlatives that are much better choices when discribing a performance, something we have read or heard, a song, a friend, or any material item. A car is not awesome. A house is not awesome. They might be amazing, grand, unsurpassed, beautifully designed, or breathtaking. A song or a performance might be entertaining, energizing, soothing, stirring, or majestic. A book might be inspiring, well-written, hilarious, or bold. A friend can be described as treasured, esteemed, or a soul-mate. But awesome? Do we truly understand the concept of awe?
When I come before God in all my human frailty and attempt to wrap my mind around the wonder of His greatness, then I can truthfully say I am in awe. I stand in awe of a God whose power, knowledge, wisdom, and presence is beyond my comprehension. I stand in awe of a God who holds me in the palm of His hand. I stand in awe of a God who loves me despite all my shortcomings.
Let the words of my heart be filled with praise for the Holy God who knows the beginning from the end, who created the world and all that is in it with a spoken word, and yet still pours out caring and comfort to my wounded soul. There is only One who fills my heart with awe. We truly serve an AWESOME God.
Thanks for letting me share my heart.
For example, how many times do we hear the word LIKE in casual conversation? "That outfit is like, so like, 20th century. Like, I mean, like where does she shop? Like, at a thrift store?"
Okay, like that might be a like poor example, but like you get my drift. Doesn't it just make you want to grab the person by the shoulders and shake them till their teeth rattle. Or better yet, doesn't it make you want to run out and buy them a thesaurus?
Another phrase I hear regularly that I wish I didn't is the use of God's name as an exclamation. If someone desires to cry out to God in a time of crisis, then using "Oh! My God!" might be appropriate. Is it a heartfelt plea for God's help and presence in a time of danger or dispair? Is God's name used in an attitude of reverence and awe? If not, then perhaps this person too, is in need of a thesaurus.
One of the most over-used and mis-used words today is AWESOME. There is little on this earth that I see as truly awe-inspiring. Our English language is loaded with superlatives that are much better choices when discribing a performance, something we have read or heard, a song, a friend, or any material item. A car is not awesome. A house is not awesome. They might be amazing, grand, unsurpassed, beautifully designed, or breathtaking. A song or a performance might be entertaining, energizing, soothing, stirring, or majestic. A book might be inspiring, well-written, hilarious, or bold. A friend can be described as treasured, esteemed, or a soul-mate. But awesome? Do we truly understand the concept of awe?
When I come before God in all my human frailty and attempt to wrap my mind around the wonder of His greatness, then I can truthfully say I am in awe. I stand in awe of a God whose power, knowledge, wisdom, and presence is beyond my comprehension. I stand in awe of a God who holds me in the palm of His hand. I stand in awe of a God who loves me despite all my shortcomings.
Let the words of my heart be filled with praise for the Holy God who knows the beginning from the end, who created the world and all that is in it with a spoken word, and yet still pours out caring and comfort to my wounded soul. There is only One who fills my heart with awe. We truly serve an AWESOME God.
Thanks for letting me share my heart.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Wise Men Always Seek Jesus
"Daddy! Daddy, I'm gonna be a Wise Guy!"
I can still hear my son's delight like it was yesterday. He couldn't wait to tell his daddy that he had the most important role in the Christmas program at his preschool. Of course, he didn't know that all the children who weren't Mary or Joseph, or the angel, were assigned roles as shepherds and wise men. At four years old, Jonathan was simply ecstatic to participate in his first Christmas play. His vernacular reference to the role might have been less than dignified, but his joy was contagious.
At such a tender age, he probably didn't have much of a grip on the concept of wisdom, but he'd heard it spoken often enough in Sunday School and at home to know that it was something worth attaining. He likely thought he automatically became wise simply by his teacher assigning him the role.
I was grateful for the example of a wise man that our son had in his father. More often than not, Jonathan could see godly wisdom demonstrated in my husband's life. Their close relationship offered many opportunities for John to teach Jonathan the excellence of wisdom.
Through his adolescent years, wisdom was a virtue that slipped through his fingers more often than it stayed, but bit by bit he gleaned precious nuggets, if by no other means, through experience. Countless times, his choices fell under the heading of foolish rather than wise. His Christian upbringing remained hidden in his heart, however, and emerged in unexpected ways. Occasionally he would quote a scripture or declare "the Bible says . . ." in opposition to something he saw on TV or a statement made by one of his professors in college. We never failed to be amused by these occurrences. Despite his rebellion, God's word was embedded in his heart, and there was nothing he could do about it.
So when he was confronted with the brutal monster called cancer, wisdom kicked in. After choosing to turn his back on his faith for many years, Jonathan finally bowed his knee and his heart to Jesus. Truly his was the reaction of a wise man.
The 2007 Christmas program was nearly upon us, and rehearsals were in full swing. I knew there were going to be dramas connected with it, but since I was only involved in the music portion, I didn't pay much attention to the preparations for the drama. That is until my husband announced on the way home from church, "I'm gonna be a Wise Guy."
Should I tell him he already is?
Thanks for letting me share my heart.
I can still hear my son's delight like it was yesterday. He couldn't wait to tell his daddy that he had the most important role in the Christmas program at his preschool. Of course, he didn't know that all the children who weren't Mary or Joseph, or the angel, were assigned roles as shepherds and wise men. At four years old, Jonathan was simply ecstatic to participate in his first Christmas play. His vernacular reference to the role might have been less than dignified, but his joy was contagious.
At such a tender age, he probably didn't have much of a grip on the concept of wisdom, but he'd heard it spoken often enough in Sunday School and at home to know that it was something worth attaining. He likely thought he automatically became wise simply by his teacher assigning him the role.
I was grateful for the example of a wise man that our son had in his father. More often than not, Jonathan could see godly wisdom demonstrated in my husband's life. Their close relationship offered many opportunities for John to teach Jonathan the excellence of wisdom.
Through his adolescent years, wisdom was a virtue that slipped through his fingers more often than it stayed, but bit by bit he gleaned precious nuggets, if by no other means, through experience. Countless times, his choices fell under the heading of foolish rather than wise. His Christian upbringing remained hidden in his heart, however, and emerged in unexpected ways. Occasionally he would quote a scripture or declare "the Bible says . . ." in opposition to something he saw on TV or a statement made by one of his professors in college. We never failed to be amused by these occurrences. Despite his rebellion, God's word was embedded in his heart, and there was nothing he could do about it.
So when he was confronted with the brutal monster called cancer, wisdom kicked in. After choosing to turn his back on his faith for many years, Jonathan finally bowed his knee and his heart to Jesus. Truly his was the reaction of a wise man.
The 2007 Christmas program was nearly upon us, and rehearsals were in full swing. I knew there were going to be dramas connected with it, but since I was only involved in the music portion, I didn't pay much attention to the preparations for the drama. That is until my husband announced on the way home from church, "I'm gonna be a Wise Guy."
Should I tell him he already is?
Thanks for letting me share my heart.
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