Choices and Consequences

Have you ever had a "why me?" moment? Have you ever raised your fist to God and decried the unfair way that you have been treated? And after that, have you been shown, in a gentle and loving way, that your trouble came about as consequences of the choices that you've made? Yeah, me too.

I have to admit, it was my self-neglect that led to my lung problems. I knew that there was something wrong with my knee, but I chose not to go to the doctor for help until over a year after it had started exhibiting signs. After the doctor diagnosed me, he wanted to do surgery immediately due to the serious nature of the tear, but I chose to make an 18-hour trip to see my children before that surgery. He told me to be sure and rest and exercise my leg every two hours to avoid blood clots, but i chose to save time by driving for hours on end instead. The list goes on and on--things I knew but chose not to think about, treatments that I was supposed to take and didn't, and all of it combined to keep me ill long after many people with this same disease.

But see, that's life. Choices and consequences. You always have a choice, and every choice leads to a consequence. There are good consequences and bad consequences. Childhood consequences can often be the result of choices made by others in life. So what can we do about this?

I think that there are three basic things we need to hold on to:

Most of our consequences result from choices we have made.

We really need to stop blaming God for things that we did. If you had a breakdown on a dark road late at night that resulted in inconvenience or worse for you, you have to be honest with yourself. Was God to blame, or could it possibly have been the fact that you haven't checked the water, gas, or what have you for such a long time that a breakdown was sure to occur? You are in immense credit card debt. Is that because God chooses not to take care of you, or is it because you choose to ignore impulse control and buy what you want the minute you decide that you want it. And so on. God has big shoulders, but we need to realize that sometimes our attitude of blame toward God can keep us from the benefits of repentance and the forgiveness that comes from that.

Consequences are results of our decisions, but we can sometimes correct a decision, which will lead to a better consequence.

In my case, my choices regarding my health led to its decline. I am now on oxygen and have kidney failure. But I recently decided that my choices were stupid and needed to be changed, even late in the day. To that end, I have begun once again to do my breathing treatments and my inhalation therapy. I also am taking water aerobics three times a week. I do this in the hopes that my renewed choices will bring me to a better outcome-an improved consequence. I have lost time, but I have lots of time left as well.

Others' choices in our youth have serious consequences, but we can deal with that through prayer and forgiveness.

I was bullied as a child. I was teased, abused, hurt. Were you? It left me ashamed and embarrassed to be seen, sure that what everyone said was true, what everyone did was deserved. These were consequences of what others said and did to me. But as an adult, I choose to understand that the words those people said, the actions they performed, had nothing to do with me. I didn't deserve the treatment I got. I choose to believe that I am a well-loved child of God, and I choose to live that way. I have forgiven many of the people that wounded me, and I continue to forgive as God brings them to my memory. I find that the consequence of the original abuse made me a sensitive person who feels deeply. While I am making the choice to forgive my past, I thank God for that particular outcome. I wouldn't change who I am for the world.

So if you are reading this and know that you are suffering due to your or someone else's choice, please take it to God. Ask him to reveal that choice to you. Understand what put you there, and ask where he was in it. Be available for his answer. Then do what you need to do in order to have an outcome that would fill you with hope rather than fear or despair.

Need help? Email me at meggiev7777@gmail.com.  I'm here for you.

All-Consuming Fear -- The Surprising Truth

     As I write this, I am waiting for events to unfold within my family.  I'm not in charge of these events, and I am concerned.  A few years ago, I would have to say that I would have been terrified.  Life is happening, a bad outcome is possible, and I can do nothing to stop it except pray.

    But I am not terrified.  Deep within my soul I know that God is in control, and so I wait for him to do what he's going to do.  Whatever he does, it's going to be exactly what is needed.

    Some people might call this fatalism.  It isn't.  It's trust:  deep-down, all-encompassing, totally dependent trust.  This trust did not come overnight; it came through a surge down through fear, out through to the other side.  It came through living and breathing God's mercy, and the result is that I know that God's ways are not my ways, but they're the best ways.

    I've spoken about fear--ways to stop it from destroying your life. But there are times in our lives when our fear seems very valid and threatens to overwhelm us for good reason. When your loved one is in the hospital and nothing is helping, that can be terrifying.  When you are facing layoffs and cutbacks and are not prepared, you can become frozen with fear.  When you are faced with something that you have been concerned about all your life, it can come over you like a tidal wave.

    I've faced many things in my life:  abuse, death of a child, both parents, and a spouse, job loss, and most lately solitude.  All of these things at some point horrified me.  But all of them no longer do so.  Why?  Because I have walked through them.  I wish I could say that I walked through them fearlessly, but I did not.  However, I have learned secrets that might possibly allow you to walk through them more easily than I did.

    First of all, we are talking about enormous things here.  These are not fears that can easily be put aside.  Nobody wants to think of loved ones dying. Nobody wants to imagine themselves alone.  But some things can and should be worked through before the fear comes.  For example, loss.  When my father died, he was 81.  I knew that the death was coming.  I had time to prepare.  Yes, I still grieved and it was still hard, but it wasn't as overwhelming as were the other losses.  If you and your spouse are blessed with good health, wonderful!  You should still go through end-of-life planning together.  The fact that you did will make the ending easier. Everything is easier if you have walked through it before it happens.

     Next, don't collapse in on yourself.  That's what I did and it is absolutely useless.  If someone offers help, TAKE IT.  If you know that you need it and nobody is offering, MAKE YOURSELF ASK.  A real problem with friends of the grieving is that they don't know what to do.

    I could go on in this fashion, but I want to continue with the major idea.  We are overwhelmed by fear because we don't trust God to know and complete his plan.  When we see ourselves in the process, we imagine that it will be like this forever, or we think that it will never get better, or we are afraid that we will never recover.  In other words, we trust God's word.  "I know the plans I have for you--plans for GOOD and not for EVIL, plans to give you a HOPE and a PURPOSE.

    I hear you thinking--surely you don't mean that God PLANNED these things?  Surely you don't believe that God allows evil--or worse, brings it himself!  I'll tell you what I believe.  I believe that we don't know the end from the beginning.  Only God does that.  We don't see the path in its entirety.  Only God does that.  Sometimes we can get a glimmer, and sometimes that glimmer can put things into perspective.

Example:
    My son was born at 24 weeks.  Because we were part of the Kaiser HMO, we were forced to transfer him to a Kaiser hospital as soon as he was considered "stable".  He died after 11 days of struggling, and he broke our hearts.  Our family shattered.  That was our reality.  But there was another part of our reality that we didn't know--only God knew.  The clock was ticking on my husband.  Up to the moment my son died, God was distant and unimportant to him.  But when Tommy died, Val spoke of needing to get right with God so that he could see his son again.  That was real and necessary, and I believe he took it seriously.  

    When Tommy died, I wondered over and over again why God didn't save him.  My question was answered in 1993, when he took my husband.  I had a 6-month-old baby and 3 older kids.  There was no doubt that had Tommy survived, he would have been severely mentally disabled.  I simply could not have managed.

    I know--these examples raise every bit as many questions as they answer.  But at some point you have to stop blasting heaven's doors with "Why" and begin to realize that He knows what is best and you don't.

    The other thing I've learned about fear is that the very thing you're afraid of is that very thing that you need the most.  More on that next time.

morning conversation

I woke up with you on my mind.
The room seemed to be full of your presence,
As if you had been watching me closely as I slept.

During the day, your voice seems small and quiet
It is hard to hear you through the noise.
But here in the quiet of the morning
You can be clearly heard.

Lord, how is it that you,
The Creator of the Universe
Care enough to be with me in this quiet room at this early hour?
For you are with me, I know.

I feel your love so distinctly,
It is as if you are enveloping me--
A blanket of tenderness that seeks nothing more
Than for me to recognize this quiet time together.

I can't see you, of course.
That won't come till later.
But right now, as we share this moment together,
I will share this cup of coffee with you,
And before I turn to mail
And news
And Facebook,
I will say the one thing that I know how to say,
Inadequate as it is,
Good morning, Lord!
I love you.

The Church of the Open Door

They’ll know we are Christians by our love.

The words to the old song ring in my ears as I look at the white clapboard church, doors tightly shut against me.  My friends had warned me that this would happen—“They won’t understand.  They won’t try to understand.  They’ll just judge.”  I didn’t believe them.  How could it be? 

And yet, here it was.  I had come in seeking shelter, and I was summarily cast out.  Churches today expect a full record of your life if they don’t know you.  They want everything—birth records, marriage documents, reports of any known lifestyle defects and evidence that those defects have been taken care of.  “The church is not your nanny,” they are fond of saying.  This is a place for the Righteous to come and be safe, protected from the hideousness that exists outside.  I didn’t make it past the first step—the documents check.  Though I tried to explain that what happened wasn’t my fault, I was silenced and sent back outside.  Evidently I was one of the hideous mob and not welcome.

It wasn’t always like this, I’m told.  There are records of churches being welcoming sanctuaries where you could come and be safe.  In those days, churchgoers considered themselves sinners as well, and they welcomed one and all to come and worship.  I long for those days.  But that was before lifestyle changes led to disruption, science led to new visions of what man was capable of becoming, and morality gave way to “to each his own”.  The major churches banded together in defense of the unknown, and a new religion was born.  The view was that all redeemable men had been redeemed.  They felt that anyone who was not a member, anyone who was not in the fold, was incapable of redemption.  The operation of the church changed from one of welcoming redemption to one of guarded safety—we are inside, you are out.  You are not allowed in.

Most of the “unredeemed” didn’t care.  They had little use for religion, and there were plenty of other faiths out there anyway.  But for people like me, people who had found a Bible, read it, believed it, and wanted to be part of the Truth, seeing those temples in town was torture.  We thought that the truth was out there somewhere, and we wanted to find others who believed as we do.  As followers of Christ, we wanted to be accepted by our fellow Christians.

Why was I not accepted?  I am a clone.  I was created from cells of my older brother as a replacement for him.  Even after all these years, it still hurts to remember the disappointment in my parents’ faces when they realized that cells do not a replacement make.  He was athletic; I am a poet.  He was into cars; I am into books.  He was slim and ripped; I am heavy and…not.  After raising me to adulthood, my parents lost interest in me and turned me loose.  I had other brothers, after all, other clones who were more true to the son that they had lost.  I could easily be replaced.  So at sixteen, I was on my own.

I loved books, as I said.  I am a poet.  I found a Bible in the literature section of the library, and as I began to read, I first was attracted to Psalms.  I didn’t understand a lot of the language, but I loved the idea of a man who could come to his Father with anything—love, hate, despair—and know that he would be heard.  More than that, he would not be abandoned because of what he could or could not do.  So I read further.  So many varieties of literature!  At first, that was all I saw.  I don’t even remember when it began to dawn on me that maybe, just possibly, this could be a work of nonfiction.  The Old Testament spoke of wars, uprisings, races taking over other races, women and men born into infidelity and coming into a faith on their own, being led by this Jehovah…this God who seemed to love them in spite of their unworthiness.  The New Testament was devoted to the works and life of the Man from Galilee.  He was kind to all, Jews and Samaritans alike.  I was impressed by his actions, although it took a while for it to sink in.  The man in the second testament was sent by the God in the first testament—and he was God’s son.  In fact, if I understood the book correctly, he was God himself!  I wasn’t sure how that could be—that was one reason I wanted, no-- needed to get into one of those churches.  I had to understand!  But I was an outcast.

One day, I was reading the book of Genesis once again, when something struck me.  I reread the passage.  Why hadn’t I noticed it before?  God created Eve from Adam’s rib!  She wasn’t born; she was a clone!  She was created from Adam’s own body, just as I was created from my brother’s own cells!  And wasn’t Eve the mother of us all? In that way, couldn’t you say that we are all descended from clones?

I began to read the Bible again, in earnest.  I didn’t see another example of this, but I did see God himself go away from his own design from time to time.  He created warriors from skeletons.  He intervened personally into history.  He declared murder contrary to his own laws, yet he called a murderer—a man who killed his mistress’s husband—a man after his own heart!  It seemed that life following this God was anything but safe! 

As I continued to read and pray (I wasn’t sure what prayer was, but I read the prayer that was suggested by this Jesus and prayed it.  I also read the way he talked to his father, his God, and I also started doing that), the idea began to dawn on me:  why don’t I start a church of my own?  If I followed this Christ on the outside, maybe there were others who did as well!

So I found a building in good repair, made sure that there were no other tenants, and converted it to a small church.  I called it “The Church of the Open Door”, and I made sure that the door was indeed open.  It was open to all—clones, recipients of surgeries that the other Churches had declared ungodly, people who had fallen into sin and wanted to climb back out, even those who said that they weren’t interested in changing their ways, they were just interested in what this Bible of mine had to say.  Some of them came a few times, laughed at us, and left.  Others, though, kept coming back, month after month.  At first I spoke every month, but soon others asked to share the privilege.  We didn’t know much, but we all were studying the Book, and we all found something new to say.  It was a wonderful time.

One day, the strangest thing happened.  A man came who seemed different from us.  For one thing, he was much better dressed.  This was obviously a man of society, unlike the rest of us on the outside.  He was from one of the closed churches, but he said that news had come to them of our meeting.  The others had ridiculed us, but something about our meeting kept nagging at him.  He had also been reading the Bible—he’d been doing his own reading, not the suggested verses that the Church said were appropriate for these latter days, but all the Bible, and he thought that our way was closer to the heart of God than his way.  He humbly asked if he could be a part of our communion.

I was surprised, and I was pleased.  However, some of my fellow churchmen weren’t in the same frame of mind as I was.  They wanted to keep him out.  He was a member of the churches that refused us entry, so why shouldn’t we refuse him?  But they left it up to me.  I prayed and sought God earnestly, and heard only, “All are welcome here.”  So this man, too, found welcome.

Today, our building is bursting at the seams.  There is a growing desire to know this Jesus, and people come from all over.  Other buildings are popping up as well.  We don’t call ourselves churches (that’s forbidden by law, anyway).  We call ourselves communities of believers.  All are welcome.  All.  No matter the problem, no matter your race, no matter your background, surgery, marital state or creed, you are welcome here.  We’ve decided that we don’t need to prohibit anyone—the Word itself draws those who it draws and repels all others.  We understand this, and we are content.

1 cor 13

13 If I speak in the tongues^[a] of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.² If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains,but do not have love, I am nothing. ³ If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast,^[b]but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Nothing.  What a big word.  It seems like something at the time.  Some may listen, applaud, even honor you, but in the end…ashes. Nothing.  All because you did it without love.

⁴ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 

⁸ Love never fails.

Be careful.  You may think that you are full of Christian love, but is it patient and kind?  Is it envious?  Does it boast or show pride?  Here's a good one.  Does it dishonor others?  Is it trying to bring things around to your way of thinking?  Does it fall easily into anger? Is it busy keeping records?  Does it rejoice in the truth, even if that truth is inconvenient?  Does it protect? Trust? Hope? Persevere?

I'm sorry, but I am drawn to the line, it always protects.  What kind of love is being shown today in the name of Christianity?  Love that protects or self-righteousness that throws others under the bus and into the mouths of wolves?

8 (cont) But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. ⁹ For we know in part and we prophesy in part, ¹⁰ but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 

We know so little when compared to what we will know.  We may see a good deal, but it is so little compared to what is to come.  Love.  We might prophesy, we might attain all wisdom, but it all will end.  Only love remains.

¹¹ When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. ¹² For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

To see without limitations.  To understand without the barriers that are common to man today.  To be able to wipe our eyes, open them wide, and see God's truth displayed clearly, in plain view. I will one day know him as well as he knows me.  And he is love.  To know him better even now, seek earnestly for the ability to grow in love.

¹³ And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

Ever believed beyond belief?  Ever hoped beyond hope?  Ever woke up one morning and thought--for that one precious second--that the lost loved one was back again?  It will one day happen.  And love will rule it all.  Come quickly Lord Jesus.

Psalm 144

I wanted to take a little time to day to reflect on the person who wrote Psalm 144.  It is said to be written by David--not all the psalms are, of course, and it speaks to me in ways that other psalms do not.

Praise be to the Lord my Rock,
    who trains my hands for war,
    my fingers for battle.
² He is my loving God and my fortress,
    my stronghold and my deliverer,
my shield, in whom I take refuge,
    who subdues peoples^[a] under me.

David the poet--those fingers that strummed a lyre and fashioned poetry for his God also slew those that were against him.  He was equally secure praising his God in song and complaining about his slowness to come and deliver him.  He was aware of God's goodness and strength, and he was equally aware that God had equipped him, too, to be a power in His name.

³ Lord, what are human beings that you care for them,
    mere mortals that you think of them?
⁴ They are like a breath;
    their days are like a fleeting shadow.

What beautiful words.  This psalm is made by a true poet.  He goes from glorifying God for subduing people under him to musing about the nature of man.  They are like a breath--their days are like a fleeting shadow.  How true--David himself is now a song.  His legacy to us is his love of God and his honesty before the Lord.

⁵ Part your heavens, Lord, and come down;
    touch the mountains, so that they smoke.
⁶ Send forth lightning and scatter the enemy;
    shoot your arrows and rout them.
⁷ Reach down your hand from on high;
    deliver me and rescue me
from the mighty waters,
    from the hands of foreigners
⁸ whose mouths are full of lies,
    whose right hands are deceitful.

From observation to reflection to petition.  And what a petition!  Smite those that persecute me!  Who among us would have the brazenness to pray like this?  Those people who threatened him--they had families and cattle and land, too.  But they were full of deceit and lies, and therefore David felt justified in asking for their extermination.

⁹ I will sing a new song to you, my God;
    on the ten-stringed lyre I will make music to you,
¹⁰ to the One who gives victory to kings,
    who delivers his servant David.

Is this a bribe?  If you rescue me, I will give you more music?  I don't think so.  Instead, I think that David is asserting that his victory is a foregone conclusion.  If he is a man after God's own heart, how could anyone stand against him?

I especially like the last two lines--the one who gives victory to kings/who delivers his servant David.  Even as a king, David acknowledges his servanthood.

From the deadly sword ¹¹ deliver me;
    rescue me from the hands of foreigners
whose mouths are full of lies,
    whose right hands are deceitful

Is he all alone in this?  Who is with him to fight?  He seems self-absorbed, and yet, really, isn't that how we should all be?  God tells us to come to him with all our hurts and our needs, and this is exactly what David is doing.

12. Then our sons in their youth

 will be like well-nurtured plants,

and our daughters will be like pillars

carved to adorn a palace.

13. Our barns will be filled

 with every kind of provision.

Our sheep will increase by thousands,

by tens of thousands in our fields;

14. our oxen will draw heavy loads.^[b]

There will be no breaching of walls,

no going into captivity,

 no cry of distress in our streets.

Their sons and daughters (now we have the our) are dependent on David in a very real way.  Kingdoms fell or grew strong in the strength of their king.  He knew exactly what he was talking about.  Victors had confidence, peace, freedom--and food.

15. Blessed is the people of whom this is true;

blessed is the people whose God is the Lord.

David leads the sons of Israel into battle.  He leads the Chosen, the people that God pulled out of Egypt, led to the Promised Land, and saved from danger again and again and again.  And all we who believe are adopted into this same wonderful family.  Blessed is the people whose God is the Lord!  Maranatha, Lord Jesus! Come and take your people home! Amen!

The church--a cautionary tale

Once upon a time there was a tiny little church. It was old and had obviously seen better days, as had the neighborhood. Not many people could get in at once-surely no more than 20 or so.  The pastor was poor but honest, and his flock loved him.  They were a motley assortment at best, but they all loved him.

Dwayne was one of the sheep, and he was the most vocal.  He was old, loud, dirty, and proud of his evil past.  He had come to the church years ago, and the pastor's easy manner and friendly disposition had persuaded him that it might be worth staying here.  He found that the church was inviting--it didn't make fun of him or laugh at him.  It didn't turn up its nose when he walked past--figuratively or literally.  He was treated as a cherished brother, and Dwayne liked that.  In fact, he started listening to the pastor's sermons (more homilies than sermons, really), and he found himself wanting to be a friend of the man that Pastor talked about.

Beauty was Dwayne's wife.  She had been a streetwalker--she preferred that to tramp--but Dwayne had found her after he found the church.  He took her to service, and she found welcome and acceptance there, just as Dwayne had.  She wasn't made to feel ashamed, but she came to desire escape from her former life.  Dwayne helped her leave the life, and the two of them had been helping others leave ever since.  They didn't all care about the church or its God, but they were all grateful for the freedom that they had found, and they all were free to accept prayers--and even to ask for them.  Dwayne and Beauty (whose real name, Betsy, was not nearly as pretty, in her opinion) felt sure that one day they would come to love the church, its pastor, and their God every bit as much as they did.

There were others, too.  Sid was a drugged-out teen who had come to the church one night begging for a handout.  Instead, he had been given a ride to a drive-in, a warm meal, and a place to sleep in the church's basement.  Sid was offered help to kick his habit, and even though the help hadn't worked (yet), the sheep had high hopes.  Deep in his heart, so did Sid.  And like many others, Sid was attracted to the church and its God, if not yet convinced.  Marianne and her partner Lianne were lesbians who came when Lianne found out that her mother had terminal cancer.  Even though her parents refused to acknowledge their lifestyle, Lianne was worried and hurting. The church took both of them to its heart, and Lianne and Marianne were soon part of a prayer group.  Some people were comfortable with the thought of gay people at church, others were confused, and still others were sure that the lifestyle was wrong, but none of them felt that dealing with that was as important as praying for a mother who was dying.  They finally came to the conclusion that "Judge not lest you also be judged" was in the Bible for a reason.  Others were just normal folk, mostly poor--like the neighborhood--but good people who loved God, loved the pastor, and loved the church.

One day a real estate developer came to town.  He had been looking over the neighborhood, and he'd decided that the houses were too old and unsightly to be of any use to him.  Some people rented--the landlords were happy to be rid of the nuisance.  Others were happy to have a few dollars in their pocket and another house in a different part of town.  They sold right away, at a profit.  Some members of the church were in this crowd--they felt that God was blessing the neighborhood by bringing in new blood and giving others a chance to leave.  The pastor wasn't so sure.

Soon, the neighborhood was quite different.  The old houses were destroyed and new and fashionable condominiums took their place.  The old neighbors were unable to afford to buy the sweet condos and soon left.  The neighbors that stayed were happy, at least for a time.  New neighbors came, too.  They were different than the old ones, much different.  They came into the little church and had a talk with the pastor.  "We don't feel that the church paints the proper picture for this new community," they said. "We are willing to pay for an upgrade.  You will have the most beautiful church in the city!"  Once again, the pastor wasn't sure it was a good idea, but he didn't really have a voice in the decision. The vestry voted 12-0 to gratefully accept the new neighbor's building contribution, and the most wealthy and influential neighbor, Solomon, was voted into the vestry immediately.  Nobody seemed to care that the number became 13.

Well, the little old church was torn down and a beautiful new building took its place.  It drew the new neighbors to it like flies to garbage.  The new neighbors were very aware of their social standing.  They looked around at the original parishioners and did not like what they saw.  They soon decided to take steps.

The first sacrificial lamb was Beauty.  Edith, an accountant with a businessman husband and a high opinion of her life, came to her and hinted that she was a little--well--loud.  Beauty, at first, took it in stride.  She giggled and said, "I guess so.  I'm not the mani-pedi and salon dye type.  But at our church, you take us as we are.  But the problem was that there were not that many original church members left.  Edith and her friends made it a point to ignore Edith and her friends and keep her out of the loop.  The pastor spoke to her about her attitude, but Edith pointedly mentioned that a pastor's salary is maintained by his parishioners, and he might want to keep his mouth shut.  The pastor wasn't intimidated, but he was at a loss.  He went to the chapel and began to devote time to prayer, seeking an answer to this question.

The answer came almost immediately.  Solomon informed the pastor that he was not a good fit for the new church and its new congregation.  They preferred "congregation" to "sheep".  He was given a month's severance pay and told to find another church.

Soon after, Ed, a buff retired fireman who enjoyed positions of power, took both Dwayne and Sid in hand.  Dwayne was told that the church would no longer support his going out and finding "those women".  Dwayne got belligerent and profane, which Ed had secretly hoped would happen.  He said that the vestry had assured him that they would not tolerate people who took the Lord's name in vain (let alone some of the other things he had said).  He was kicked out of church on the spot.  Sid was even easier.  He came to church one day looking for the pastor.  He had fallen off the wagon and needed help.  He hadn't been around for awhile and knew nothing about the recent changes.  Ed greeted him at the door with a big smile and hearty handshake.  He then called 911 and told the police that there was a person in possession of illegal drugs at the church.  The police soon showed up and escorted Sid off the premises.  The poor kid was over 18, so he was given jail time.  He blamed the whole thing on God, not Ed, and vowed never to set foot in another church.

Lianne and Marianne were next.  The vestry invited them to their next meeting.  They told them that the church had decided that it would not condone homosexuality inside its walls.  The two were told that they must publicly acknowledge that they were deep in sin and promise never to practice homosexuality ever again.  The alternative was to leave the church at once.  Lianne asked, "Will you still at least keep my mother in your prayers?"  "She isn't gay, too, is she?" Edith said with a sneer.  The two women turned away without another word.

It has been seven years, and First Church of Suburbia is doing very well, thank you.  There are prayer services, women's brunches, children's camp, choir and praise team, and many other services and ministries available for the discerning church goer.  If you hadn't known the church before, you might not notice the spiritual emptiness hanging like cobwebs from every window and door.

You might ask, "What about the pastor and his sheep?"  Not all have returned.  Many neighbors moved and were lost to him, but some sought him out.  He found a space in a small gym and has services there on Sundays and is saving his pennies so that he can one day move to a real church.  He is thankful for every day, and sorry that his flock had to go through such trials.  He visits Sid in prison, and Sid has asked to be baptized.  Lianne and Marianne found the church as well, and so did Dwayne and his wife.  They are active and happy, if not as naive as they once were.  They believe that God is in control and that everything happens for a reason. They admit that they can't understand why this happened, but they aren't too worried.  They're too busy living for God and rejoicing in his name.

on sharing grief

My sister lost her best friend today.  Her name was Esther Peterson.  I'm not sure when she and my sister got to know each other, but I'm sure that  they were friends when they were living on Pioneer Drive in Bakersfield, CA, as teens.  I know that they went to school together, and miraculously, they didn't lose touch when my sister moved with my family, first to another house in Bakersfield and then to Taft.  I imagine that they were in each others' weddings, though I'm not sure of that, either.  Esther married a great guy named Ken Coleman.  I don't know much about the years in between, but I know that they eventually moved to Glendale, CA, (I think) and bought a beautiful two-story house.

You might wonder why my story is so spotty.  I am 17 years younger than Charnell, so I know only what I was told.  Esther was so close that the story was just understood, for the most part.  I'm sure my brother was old enough to remember the gist, but not me.  I have my own memories, but they are much later.  Esther came into my life when my sister suggested that we live with them while we were with our son, Tommy, during his eleven days of life.  I will never forget their kindness to us.  I particularly remember Ken sitting reading his paper and talking to my husband, Val, about business.  I was so grateful that he spoke to Val man to man, not as a much older businessman talking to a blue-collar worker.  I know that it gave Val a lift to know that someone actually listened to him and cared about his ideas.  Esther was there, too, and was invaluable to both of us after we lost Tommy.  I remember coming back, numb with shock, and saying that I was glad that this was over.  Now we could get on with our lives.  She listened quietly and gently informed me that there would be days ahead that would be much more difficult.  Later, she and Ken allowed us to share their home before and after our trip to DC after my husband's death.  Still later, she allowed my friend Vicki and I to stay in her house when we were there for some trip or other.  But nothing that I can remember comes close to what my sister felt for her.

I can't imagine what it's like to have a friendship that lasts throughout your life.  I can't imagine what it is to go through life and love and gains and losses together.  The love that they had, I'm sure, was more like the love between sisters.  I'm sure that Charnell was as much a sister to Esther as she was to me, and the thought doesn't wound at all.  I'm thankful that my sister had a friend who was her own age and shared so much.  I love my sister and our relationship, but I know that as deep as our love is, it's very different.

Esther had cancer.  She had been diagnosed years ago, struggled with it and came through it.  I think she lived free of cancer for some years, and then it came back.  She was a fighter, though, and continued the fight to the very end.  Charnell told me that she went to a family gathering the day before, and she had a great time, She came home with her daughter and went to bed.  And that was it.  It was a blessing, I'm sure.  My sister is thankful that she'd had a chance to speak with her a few days before she died.

When someone you love loses someone they love, it is probably the most helpless feeling that you can have.  I have been worried about this future loss ever since the cancer came back, and I knew today when I saw my sister's call (voice message) that it had happened.  Hearing her voice on the phone ripped my heart out.  She was so absolutely in grief.  My sister--my whole family--has gone through so much loss.  I so didn't want her to have to go through any more.  But that's the way of the world.  As we get older, our loved ones die.  Sometimes they die out of season; sometimes they go in the fullness of time.  But if they are truly loved, they will be missed.  And mourned.

What can we do when we are walking with a loved one through grief?  Well, I know for sure some things I wish people wouldn't do.  Don't try to say things to make it better. "Well, they're out of pain now.  Well, they're with their family again.  They're with God."  Sure they are, and that's wonderful.  But if you loved them, their passing will hurt.  And that hurt is honest and good.  Let them go through it.

Don't try to put a time limit on grief.  Don't assume that it will get easier for them as time passes and they get older.  Losing your friend is losing your friend, no matter what age you are.  If you were close it will hurt.  And don't put a time limit on the grief.  Some people stop showing outward grief after a day, a week, a month, while others seem to "wallow" for months or years.  They're not wallowing.  They're grieving. If they show you their grief, assume it's because they trust you as a friend.  As much as you can, just be there for them.

Don't bring up God--or be very careful when you do.  If you know me, you know how spiritual I am.  But I can tell you that I am not comforted when I hear others say "God needed another angel."  "It was him time."  "He's home now." "God needed him, so he called him home."  Aside from the angel remark (angels are not dead people), it might be true, but it is not helpful.  We're not talking about our normal friend or loved one here. We're talking about someone who is hurting.  They don't need to feel guilty because they can't trust God (that's not even the question), and they certainly don't need to be told that God needed them in Heaven more than he wanted them on Earth with us.  What does that make God?  People who are grieving don't need to sort out theological issues.  They need comfort.

So how do you comfort someone in grief?  Listen.  Be there.  Keep the line open.  If they need to talk, tell them that you're available.  And then be available.  They might be angry, hurt, full of tears, talking and not making sense.  That's okay.  Be there.  My sister's daughter, Peggy, died when she was 20.  I didn't have a phone and got the message, "Miss Piggy died."  My mother-in-law misunderstood and thought that it was a family pet.  I understood immediately.  I don't remember much, but I remember my husband staying home with the kids while I drove with my friend Ann.  I remember screaming and crying, so angry and full of grief I could barely hold myself together.  I don't remember a single word that Ann said, and I know that she dealt with grief very differently that do I.  But she was there.  She understood my need, and she was there for me in a way that only a friend can be.  Thank God for her.

And thank God for you if you walk beside a friend in grief. You are there to help them, and God will walk with the two of you.  Just listen for his voice.

Who shall find rest? Thoughts on Messiah

He shall lead his flock like a shepherd
Will you, now?  Will you really?  Who exactly will you lead?  The conservative right? The liberal left?  The gatherings who can trace their heritage to  the foundation of Your church? The newcomers who have broken away because of perceived errors in this line or that line?  Who?

Will you lead only those who are fit to be called Your children?  And who determines that, by the way?
The above-mentioned conservative right or liberal left?  Are all children your children?
Are none of us really really yours?
Is this just some big cosmic joke?

What flock exactly will you lead?

And he shall gather the lambs in his arm
And he shall carry them in his bosom
The lambs.  You will gather the lambs and carry them.  The lambs from Columbine?  The lambs from Sandy Hook?  The lambs from Kenya and Congo and Botswana?  All of these?  What if some don't believe in you?

Will you keep them safe even when the world is determined to do them damage?

And he shall gently lead those who are with young.
Oh.  That was me.  You led me all those days when the earth was black and without hope or purpose.  You led me past hardship and sorrow and grief and pain and loss and suicidal thoughts and you carried me
right into more grief and pain and loss

But were you really carrying me?  I felt so alone.

Come unto him, all ye that labor
Come unto him, ye that are heavy-laden
And he will give you rest.
Well, that's pretty clear.  All.  Conservative right, liberal left, homosexuals, homophobes, pro-life, pro-choice--everyone. Only qualification--you have to be heavy-laden.  Does that let anyone out?  I really don't think so.  All of us struggle.  Guilt, shame, depression, humiliation, physical and mental infirmity-we all struggle.  We all labor under our own yokes.  And when we come unto him--when we seek him out (or accept that he has led us to him) what happens?  We find rest.  Rest for the weary. That sounds good. 

Take his yoke upon you
And trust in him
What? Another yoke?  Don't we have enough to bear already?  Do we also have to bear his burden?  But wait.  Trust in him.  When you yoke two animals together, the burden--no matter what it is--is decreased.  You don't have to bear it alone.  He isn't asking you to take more; he's asking you to give him more and let him take care of it all.  You just have to trust.  But trust is such a big word!  Why should we trust?

For he is meek and lowly of heart
And you shall find rest unto your soul.
Oh.  He is meek and lowly of heart.  What does that even mean?  Meek?  The dictionary says that to be meek is to be patient and submissive.  Submissive?  To me?  You mean he will allow me to put my needs first?  And lowly?  What is lowly of heart?  A heart that is meek.  A heart that isn't bound up in pride.  Coming unto a man such as this would surely bring rest to the soul.

So yes, Lord,
I accept you as my Shepherd. 
I accept that I am a lamb--one of many, but precious to you.
I acknowledge my need to find rest
And to find the ability to trust.

So today,
As much as I can,
I take your yoke, 
Put it upon myself--
knowing that you are sharing my burden so much more than I'm sharing yours
And I ask for grace
To trust in You.

And this trusting comes without the need for answers.
I need not worry about conservative right, liberal left,
Lambs in the US and abroad,
Those who know you and those who don't know you.

They are not my burden to bear.
Not that they aren't important--
They are, much more than I can ever comprehend.
But they are your burden, 
Not mine.
And even my own burden,
My heart, my friends, my children, my past and my future--
Your desire is for me to give them over in bondage with you.

And so I do,
Now and forever.
Amen.