DREAMIN' -- September 15, 2007

“I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."
Jeremiah 29:10-12

Surely you remember the Disney movie, “The Swiss Family Robinson,” about a family shipwrecked on a seemingly deserted island in the South Seas. The father and two oldest sons, Fritz (James MacArthur) and Ernst (Tommy Kirk) built the tree house-of-every-child’s-dreams out of the local natural resources and whatever they could salvage from the shipwreck. As a child, I loved that tree house and lolled away many an hour imagining myself as Bertie/Roberta (Janet Munro), the “cabin boy,” who Fritz and Ernst rescued out of the clutches of pirates. Ah, the adventure! Oh, to have James MacArthur and Tommy Kirk fancy me!

Besides the appeal of the adventure and love story, this movie offered me a model of how to cope with crisis. Here was an average family, like mine, who proved strong, creative, and resilient in the face of great adversity. Granted, this was a rather unrealistic rendition of reality, but it nurtured a tiny seedling of hope in my own resiliency, should I ever be shipwrecked—literally or figuratively.

As Red Cross Volunteer in Louisiana, in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, I was astounded by the resilience I witnessed in the evacuees in my shelter. I’ve been thinking a great deal about the people I met there because it’s been exactly two years this week since I set foot in Louisiana as a Red Cross mental health counselor.

Along with the massive material loss and uprooting, I think about the dreams that were swept away by the violent winds and rising waters of Katrina. Dreams dashed into millions of pieces and scattered about, all mixed up with the wreckage of other demolished dreams.
Last Sunday, Pastor Jim Lyon challenged the members of Madison Park Church of God to be open to the dreams God has for us. Our dreams are small in comparison to God’s dreams: “God-dreams often take us to places we have not imagined or call us to face challenges that, at first blush, are easier to pass by. Be prepared to receive a dream you may not fully understand or comprehend. It is likely that a dream received will be fulfilled in ways you cannot foresee. God's dreams often are ‘over the top’ and way outside our comfort zones.” Whoa! Talk about adventure!

I don’t know about you, but my dreams do not include obstacles and pain. But when I look at Biblical accounts of God’s big dreams for, say, Abraham, Joseph, or Mary, I see long, drawn out journeys fraught with blood, sweat, and tears, discouragement and despair. “No thanks, Lord! I’m gonna pass on this one!”

Of course, even if I seemingly play it safe and opt out of God’s dream, there’s no guarantee that life will be smooth sailing. In fact, if there were a lifetime guarantee, it would be that life will be hard at times, and not just hard, but HARD! Hmmm… Maybe it would be more prudent to accept God’s dream for me rather than face the inevitable obstacles and challenges of life all by lonesome on a path poorly chosen. Hmmm…

God is the epitome of patience. While I “hmmm…” and haw around as to whether to accept God’s dream for my life; while I pitter-patter around picking up the pieces of my tattered dreams, attempting to fit them together this way and that—until I’m ready to pull my hair out, God leisurely taps a tune with his fingers and hums pleasantly under his breath, as if he has all the time in the world (or eternity) to wait on me. Eventually, I’ll give up in exasperation and cry, “OKAY, you win! I’ll try it your way”—while adding the caveat, “but if I don’t see some signs of success soon, I’ll…”

Hmmm… Do I really want to settle for a make-shift lean-to (I’m a disaster with a hammer and saw!) when I could dwell in God’s love story in a super-fantastic-out-of-this-world-too-good-to-be-true tree house on an idyllic isle? What would you do?

Sweet dreams!

GRACE UNDER FIRE: SEPTEMBER 11TH REMEMBERED -- September 8, 2007

Greater love has no one than this,
that he lay down his life for his friends.
John 15:13

At 8:46 a.m. on September 11, 2001, Abe Zelmanowitz, an employee of Blue Cross Blue Shield, was at his job on the 27th floor of the north tower of the World Trade Center when American Airlines flight 11, hijacked by Al-Qaeda terrorists, slammed into the tower. Abe could have escaped the inferno, but he chose to wait in the stairwell with Ed Beyea, his wheelchair-bound, paraplegic coworker and good buddy, who was unable to make the trip down the many flights of stairs. Patiently, Abe stood by his friend’s side as hundreds of people from the upper floors fled past them on their way down, and as rescue workers passed them on their way up to assist with evacuation. In Abe’s last call to his family, he indicated that everything was OK because a firefighter was there. Abe, Ed, and Capt. Burke of Manhattan’s Engine 21 perished together when the tower collapsed at 10:28 a.m.

My stomach lurched and tears stung my eyes as I first heard this story while listening to Barbara Kingsolver’s Small Wonders in my van. Shocked, stunned, and saddened, my first thought was, “Could I be that brave, that sacrificial, and give my life so another human being would not have to perish alone?” For the first time, I was able to actually picture myself trapped in a WTC tower, flooded with adrenalin, panic-stricken, and overwhelmed with fear.
My next thought was a silent, wordless prayer. I depended on God to decipher the gut-full of feelings. Slowly, the thoughts and words took shape. I wondered, do I pray, “Lord, please spare me and my loved ones from ever having to face such agony,” or do I pray, “Lord, if I’m ever in such a situation, give me the courage and strength to not put myself first and abandon someone else”?

I picture me choosing to take care of myself, and I detest and shutter at this ignoble image. If I were to survive, I think I would never be able to forgive myself. “What if it had been me – or one of my loved ones – in that wheel chair?” No. I could never forgive myself.
Years ago, while our family was hiking through a sun-baked riverbed on Manitoulin Island, in Lake Huron, Beth, who was around four at the time, spotted movement among the rocks. Pointing in the direction of the rocky riverbank, her voice laced with fear and curiosity, she called our attention to what she had seen. Rex began removing the rocks to reveal the lurking presence – of a big, black snake. I abhor snakes and immediately turned and began to put as much distance between me and that horrible reptile as I could. Then, just as quickly, I remembered Beth and rushed back to get her.

How could I have forgotten to protect my child? How could I have thought only of myself? “Terrible mother!” “Bad mother!” the voices in my head screeched and howled. Rex’s assurance that the snake was harmless did nothing to assuage my guilt. It didn’t matter that the situation turned out to be benign. I had just proven myself a disgrace as a mother. If my maternal instinct to protect my child was so easily preempted by my own instinct for self-preservation, I can’t imagine myself behaving any more honorably on behalf of a stranger or acquaintance. If a snake could instill such fear in me that I would abandon my own child, how much greater would be my fear and cowardice in the face of unimaginable danger!

“Oh, Lord, please spare me and my loved ones from ever having to face such agony,” and, “Lord, if I’m ever in such a situation, give me the courage and strength to not put myself first and abandon someone else.”

Of this I am certain: If I am courageous, and die, Grace will be present; if I am courageous and survive, Grace will be there; and if I flee in fear and self-preservation, Grace will seek me out and be with me in my shame and inability to forgive myself. Grace will be there.

Grace Happening People in Review

Over the summer months, I used the anagram, “Grace Happens,” to talk about characteristics of “Grace Happening People.” Each week we’ve looked at on letter, one quality, but today, I want to give you the bird’s eye view of the richness of being a grace happening person.

Galatians 6:2-5: Paul instructs us to “carry each other’s burdens.” Like a pair of oxen, we are to walk side by side with another to help each other bear the unbearable.

Rascals (sinners) embrace their inner-rascal when they accept God’s forgiveness and love as a gift. God loves rascals and uses them to convey his grace to others.

Acceptance and Affirmation: When we accept and affirm the flawed nature of ourselves and others, grace draws us toward God and into fellowship with one another. Our flaws are humbling opportunities that lead us ever deeper into God’s amazing love!

Christ: When we truly comprehend that God created us in his own image, it’s as if God replaces our smudged and scratched lenses with crystal clear lenses. We are then able to see the reflection of Christ in ourselves and others and we minister to others as if we are serving Christ himself.

Empathy has been described as the ability to “walk in another’s shoes.” Judging comes easy to us, but Grace Happening people realize that we all “fall from grace” from time to time. As my mama used to say, “There but for the grace of God go I.” “Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience” and step forward shod in the soft soled shoes of empathy.

Humor: Billy Graham said that “a keen sense of humor helps us to overlook the unbecoming, understand the unconventional, tolerate the unpleasant, overcome the unexpected, and outlast the unbearable.” Laughing Matters magazine, encourages us to “jest for the health of it” and to jump-start our creativity via the “HAHA-AHA” connection. Humor is a preventative for “hardening of the attitudes,” an enhancer of learning, and helps build resilience so we can get better “smileage” on life’s journey.

Attentiveness: Douglas Steere, a Quaker leader, said, “To ‘listen’ another’s soul into a condition of disclosure and discovery may be almost the greatest service that any human being ever performs for another.” It never ceases to amaze me how healing and empowering it is just feeling listened to. To have someone sit quietly, eyes focused on you, encouraging you to share your heart is an incredible gift of grace.

Patience: Just as eager tourists hurry along the Trail Ridge Road to reach the alpine tundra, we travel our own daily “trail ridge roads” at break-neck speed, trying to make it through yet another day —and ultimately miss the view along the way. Nature teaches us that life is a process in which all of us—the good, the bad, and the ugly—must weather storms, dry spells, and infestations. Knowing and accepting this, we are better able to stand steady and go with the flow of life’s changing seasons—and to stand alongside others and lend our steadiness to them.

Planting Seeds: We all sow seeds in the lives of others: seeds of hope, encouragement, appreciation, gratitude, forgiveness…or seeds of criticism, discouragement, doubt, fear, cynicism. Life can be difficult and frustrating, but we keep on sowing, season after season, because we rely on the Master Gardener during both times of bountiful harvest and the devastation of crop failure.

Encouragement: Just as my friend’s mom accepted her son’s encouraging embrace to ski her safely down a Colorado ski slope, we need to lean into the guiding arms of God’s Son and accept his firm hold on us, and, in turn, offer our own encouragement to others.

Nudge of God: When I was a grieving mother, God nudged me via Mourning Song, an amazing book written by a grieving mom whose story brought me comfort and encouragement. How does God nudge you?

Sparrow: Jesus compares us to sparrows: “not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father…Not one of them is forgotten by God.” If God cares this much about a mere sparrow, just think how very much he cares about us!

G-r-a-c-e H-a-p-p-e-n-s…
… in the lives of Grace Happening People!

“S” is for Sparrow: “Grace Happening People” are Sparrows

“Even the sparrow has found a home…

a place near your altar, O Lord.” Psalm 84:3

When I moved to our current house, I couldn’t hang out my birdfeeders fast enough. With all the trees out back, I was eager to see who my winged neighbors were and my feathered friends did not disappoint me: Carolina chickadees, white breasted nuthatches, tufted titmice, finches, woodpeckers—downy, hairy, red-bellied, and pileated—Carolina wrens, rose-breasted grosbeak, juncos, cardinals, indigo buntings (my favorite!), hummingbirds, and even those pesky carmel-breasted seed suckers (aka—squirrels!)—and, of course, sparrows. Sometimes sparrows are lined up on the deck rail, chatting and preening, just hanging out, but I’m so busy cooing over the “pretty birds” that I hardly even notice them.

If I could be a bird, I think I would want to be something exotic, like a toucan. Now there’s a bird for you! What a beauty—unique and almost comical, too. But can you imagine carrying around that beak? And what about attempting to kiss my sweetie? Could be tricky… If I were a Hoosier heron, I wouldn’t have to worry about thunder thighs. But can you imagine standing on those spindly legs all day? I could see myself as a pelican, loafing on the beach and pier and swimming whenever I wanted to. But, you’ve got to admit, a pelican isn’t the most attractive bird in the sky or on the sea. Actually, I think I’d fit in better with the sparrows, one among many, barely noticed, except if I were to make a pest of myself—which both sparrows and I are known to do.

When I was a child, at mealtime I was often compared to a bird: “Linda, you eat like a bird!” I was a picky eater and I often didn’t “eat enough to keep a sparrow alive.” Alas, I now could probably eat enough to keep a thousand sparrows alive! We make up all sorts of figures of speech involving birds when talking about the human race. I do not get up with the birds, nor go to bed with them, because I am a night owl. Pregnant women go through that nesting thing—and then eighteen or so years later wander aimlessly around their empty nests all teary-eyed.

Teenage girls chatter like magpies and Sandi Patty sings like a nightingale. Scary movies give me goose bumps. Sometimes I feel as free as a bird. If I mess up, I feel like a dodo. On days when I’m wandering the house looking for my keys—which I would swear on the Bible that I left on the kitchen counter, just like always—I feel loony. Some dear souls who rarely stray very far from the roost might say my daughter, Beth, is a bird of passage because she’s moved so many times. Speaking of kids, while I often had to talk turkey to my children, they are the feathers in my cap

“Why,” you ask, am I spending so much time comparing people to birds in a column on God’s grace? Because there are passages in the Bible in which Jesus compares us to birds, especially those “five for two pennies” sparrows: “not one of them” said Jesus, “will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father” ( Matthew 10:29,) “not one of them is forgotten by God,” (Luke 12:6,) and “the birds of the air neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them” (Matthew 6:26).

The point Jesus is making here is that, if God cares this much about a mere sparrow, just think how very much he must care about you and me?

Now, THAT’S something to crow about! “Cock-a-doodle-dooooo!

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This brings my summer series, “Grace Happening People,” (based on the anagram “GRACE HAPPENS”) to a close, but next week I’ll summarize the characteristics of “Grace Happening People” that we’ve pondered for the last twelve weeks. A special thank you is in order to the readers who wrote or e-mailed me, sharing their own thoughts. I love hearing from you!

“N” is for Nudge: “Grace Happening People” Know the Nudge of God

This is the eleventh installment of a twelve-week summer series based on the anagram “GRACE HAPPENS,” each letter representing a quality that equips us to be “Grace Happening People.”

I’m the kind of person who needs nudges. When I need to be nudged, God often taps me on the shoulder through books. I used to be a cover-to-cover reader, believing I had to read a book in its entirety before moving on to another. Silly me! Experience has taught me that if I abandon a book midway and move on to another, it is often because God has a gift for me between a different set of covers. This was a wonderful discovery, but even better is the realization that God leads me back to unfinished books—and I open to a page where the words are exactly what I need at that very moment!

I remember my very first eye-opening, awe-inspiring experience of recognizing God’s directing hand in my reading. At the lowest point in my life—in the aftermath of the death of our first child shortly after he was born—God brought hope and healing to me through a book by Joyce Landorf entitled Mourning Song. I had purchased the book in a small Christian bookstore in Marquette, Michigan. I was a novice therapist at the time, in my very first counseling position at Northern Michigan University, and Joyce’s book was one of the first books in my ”professional” library. I bought Mourning Song thinking it would be good to have on hand if I ever work with a client who was in the throes of grief. Little did I know the plans God had for this book.

Mourning Song sat on my shelf collecting dust. I only had enough books to fill three small shelves back then and this one was relegated to the top shelf, awaiting its call to service. One day, following Jason David’s death, I was home alone, feeling overwhelmed with grief, when I suddenly remembered this book—the one I’d purchased in the event that someone else was grieving. I felt God’s nudge to climb up on a chair (probably not the best thing to do, given that I was healing from a C-section!) and retrieve the book, hoping that it would offer some consolation.

When I bought Mourning Song, I knew that it was about grief, but I had no idea Joyce had also experienced the death of her infant son, David. The aching heart she splayed out on the pages of her book was the twin sister of my aching heart. The initial gifts in Joyce’s words were that I was not alone and that my overwhelming feelings were normal. In the midst of my grief, my shattered heart felt enormous relief and a speck of hope that I could somehow survive.
Mourning Song is one of my most prized possessions, as is the personal note from Joyce that I have tucked in its pages—a response to a letter of gratitude I sent her and in which I poured out my grieving heart to an understanding, uplifting, newfound friend.

God continues to surprise and delight me by showing up in books where I least expect the visitation of grace. My hubby and kids tease me because I am never without my yellow highlighter when I read. “What are you highlighting, Mom? Isn’t that a novel?” Yep! God turns up in every genre!

I love the story of Samuel in the Bible. As a young boy, he lived with the priest, Eli, serving in God’s temple. One evening, he heard someone call his name. Thinking it was Eli, he went to him and said,

“Here I am. You called me.”

“I did not call you,” responded Eli. “Go back and lie down.”

Three times Samuel was certain that Eli had called him and he went to him. Then Eli recognized the nudge of God and told Samuel, that it was the Lord calling him and the next time God called, to respond, “Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.” (1 Samuel 3)

I encourage you to have your heart’s highlighter ready for when God’s nudges turn up in the pages of your life. Listen. Listen for the still, small voice of God.

“E” is for Encouragement: “Grace Happening People” Know and Emulate the Encouraging Son of God

This is the tenth installment of a twelve-week summer series based on the anagram “GRACE HAPPENS,” each letter representing a quality that equips us to be “Grace Happening People.”

My long time friend, Ken Knipp, recently shared with me a priceless example of encouragement from his life. One winter, Ken’s mom accompanied his family to Colorado to serve as baby sitter for their youngest child, Janae, so Ken and Vickie and their sons, Tim and Gabe, could ski. Ken managed to talk his mom into taking a skiing lesson and she was quite surprised and pleased when she mastered the bunny hill. Ken took things one step further and said,

Mom, would you like to go up the ski lift with us?”

“Yes, I think I would like that,” his mom replied.

And so it was that Ken and his mother and sons were soon aloft in the ski lift.

“Oh! I’m not sure this was a very good idea,” exclaimed Mom, several times in a voice increasingly edged with apprehension. Approaching the landing, she despairingly declared, “Oh. I KNOW this wasn’t a good idea!”

Stepping out of the chair onto the snow, she fell several times and Ken patiently helped her up. He was determined to see that his mom experience and enjoy the thrill of skiing. Surmising that their dad’s mission could be time-intensive, Tim and Gabe skied off with a cheery, “See ya at the bottom!”

“Mom, I’m going to ski you down the hill,” Ken said in his calm, reassuring voice. “We’ll take the green trail—the slope is no different than what you have already experienced on the bunny hill.”

Although Mom wasn’t thrilled with the idea, she allowed her son to stand behind her, his skis planted on either side of her skis, his arms firmly but gently wrapped around her waist. Very s-l-o-w-l-y and deliberately, Ken zigzagged down the hill, his mom gasping and prayerfully punctuating the turns as they temporarily picked up speed.

“Oh God, protect us!”

“Oh, dear Lord!”

“Mom, you’ve taken care of me for years, now let me take care of you. Just relax and enjoy the magnificent scenery.”

Joyce Knipp was 65 at the time—and continued to enjoy additional skiing outings. You go, girl!

On the ski slopes of life, I sometimes feel like a bunny hill skier whose been lofted to the top of the Rocky Mountains and left there to fend for myself. At such times, I cry, “I can’t do this! It’s just too hard!” My heart pounding in my chest, I teeter on trembling legs of rubber, immobilized. The slippery slopes of life’s dilemmas often appear too high, too rugged and treacherous, too overwhelming and scary.

In The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers, Frodo Baggins and Sam Gamgee found themselves teetering on one of life’s overwhelming slopes:

“I can't do this Sam,” Frodo lamented to his friend.

“I know,” said Sam wistfully. “It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo… Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer… Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.
“What are we holding on to Sam?” Frodo queried his encouraging traveling companion.

Excellent question, Mr. Frodo! Rather that holding on to “something,” I think we need to lean into the guiding arms of God’s Son and accept his firm hold on us—just as Ken’s mom accepted her son’s encouraging embrace. We may not be the most graceful, skillful skiers on the slopes of life, but the embrace of God’s grace will see us safely through the twists and turns.

Our Lord Jesus Christ… loved us and by his grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope. 2 Thessalonians 2:16

Be eternally encouraged—and offer encouragement to those around you.

"P" is for Planting: Grace Happening People are Seed Sowers

This is the ninth installment of a twelve-week summer series based on the anagram “GRACE HAPPENS,” each letter representing a quality that equips us to be “Grace Happening People.”


There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: ...a time to plant and a time to uproot…
Ecclesiastes 3:1-2

Many of my happiest childhood memories are about the yearly trips we took to Attica, New York to visit my grandparents. I germinated and sprouted in Buffalo, New York and then, at the age of eight, I was transplanted in Indiana. I especially enjoyed exploring and savoring my grandfather’s country garden, as well as the field of wildflowers and the woods beyond the garden. I LOVE to watch things grow from seeds, to bright green shoots, to leggy plants with tiny buds, to glorious blossoms. I love to watch people grow in similar fashion.

Years ago, I came across the following poem by Ann North:

Some of the seeds of hope

Planted tentatively in the fall

Have not come up

They lie stillborn and unrealized

Somewhere in the spring soil/Decaying

The strongest and best ones

Pushed up through leaves

And layers of cold hard resistance
Right into clear blue air

And stand there nakedly green

Breathing

It’s always that way with growing things

Never knowing at the start

Which will make it and which will fail

But the thing to hold fast to

Never to lose faith in

Is simplySowing

We all know first hand what it is like when the seeds we plant “lie stillborn and unrealized.” You may or may not have a green thumb, but I’m actually referring to the many hopes and dreams that we envision “push[ing] up through leaves/and layers of cold hard resistance/right into clear blue air/and stand there nakedly green/Breathing.” In my early years of gardening, I learned the harsh reality that cauliflower and broccoli are particularly vulnerable veggies and I quickly gave them over to those gross little worms that love Brassica Oleracia with a passion. Bugs I can handle. But worms—YUCK! Thus, I gave up on my dream of dipping the raw fruits (or should I say veggies) of my labor into ranch dressing and smothering my delicious, homegrown, fresh fro the garden veggies in melted cheddar cheese. In similar fashion, I sometimes abandon my personal hopes and dreams when the going gets wormy.

“It’s always that way with growing things,” muses Ann North, “never knowing at the start which will make it and which will fail.” Thus, the sensible thing to do is to plant, water, weed, pray, and hope for the best. The only alternative is to NOT sow, and then, well…we get absolutely nothing! Holding on to our hopes and pursuing our dreams is a risky business that requires courage and commitment, patience and persistence—definitely not an easy row to hoe.

We have some choices on what kinds of seeds to sow. We can sow seeds of hope, encouragement, wisdom (as opposed to advice), humor, humility, appreciation, gratitude, forgiveness… Or we can sow seeds of criticism, discouragement, doubt, fear, insecurity, faintheartedness, cynicism… The latter seeds will never, ever nurture growth and are packaged in the misconception that life should go smoothly, without weeds, pests or pestilence. Life was idyllic in Eden, and eternal life will be “out of this world” in heaven. But not so in the interim, post Fall and pre Eternity.

Grace Happening people understand that the rain falls on both the good and the evil and don’t expect it to be otherwise. Grace Happening People keep on sowing, season after season, because we rely on the Master Gardener during both times of bountiful harvest and the devastation of crop failure. We strive to “hold fast to/never to lose faith in…simply/Sowing.”

Who in your life is in need of encouragement, wisdom, a healthy dose of attitude-altering humor, appreciation, forgiveness? When might you need to practice restraint lest you sow criticism, discouragement, doubt, fear, insecurity, faintheartedness, cynicism?

“People reap what they sow… Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people.” Galatians 6:7-10