More Than Conquerors

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Image by US Pacific Fleet
Flickr.com_photos/compacflt/7414859100_CC BY-NC 2.0

In all things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. Romans 8:37 NIV

Death crept in, uninvited. He’d invaded my husband’s body without a sound and caught us unaware. 

My husband was familiar to the uncomfortable waves of aching pain across his abdomen, but this newer, unrelenting ache was different than six weeks prior, now accompanied by unshakable malaise.

The CT scan showed an inflamed appendix and surgery ensued. Post-surgery, he felt brand new, like he’d received a fresh release on life. 

And, he had.

The surgeon explained, “In the lottery of life, you won big!” 

Afraid to Die

Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved. Romans 10:13 NIV

She admitted her greatest fear. Whispered it in my ear right there amid a thousand women.
I’m afraid to die.

More than that, she feared she wasn’t “saved enough”, that God’s grace wasn’t “big enough” for all the bad she’d done.

My heart broke right there. Oh, the lies Satan wove into the heart of this precious eighty-something-year-old woman to convince her that her sins were too big and God’s grace was too small.

If we’re honest, sometimes we’re convinced of the same, aren’t we? We’re afraid to die. We compare our sins with another or rate our sins on a scale of 1-10 thinking that our sins are too big for God’s grace.

But the reality is, Christ overcame all sin, no matter how big or small, and for believers in Christ, no sin is counted against him.

God’s grace covers all sin and covers anyone who calls upon the name of Jesus, no matter what she’s done in the past.
For Scripture tells us plainly,

for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God and all are justified freely by his grace through the redemption that came by Christ Jesus. Romans 3:23-24 NIV

There is nothing we can do to earn God’s salvation. It’s a gift freely offered by God through the shed blood of His only Son, Jesus, who died once for the salvation of all. All we need do is:
declare with your (our) mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you (we) will be saved. (emphasis mine) Romans 10:9 NIV

I cupped the tear-stained face of this precious woman. She reassured me she’d asked Jesus to forgive her sins many times. So I looked her in the eyes and said,

There is nothing you’ve done that God cannot forgive. There is nothing you can ever do that God will love you less. He is for you. He will never leave you or forsake you. He is with you always.

There are times we all need that reassurance. We need to stop managing our sin or the sins of others, and live in the victory of the cross and the empty tomb! Jesus is alive! He is risen!

Our sins (every single one) have been accounted for once and for all. If we believe in our hearts that Jesus is Lord, then we are justified, made right before God for all of eternity.

How would we live our lives differently if we unburdened ourselves from our past sins and lived from eternity’s perspective?

If we lived in the present, knowing we are fully loved by our Papa-God, embracing ourselves and one another through the eyes of Jesus? What if we truly believed no sin is too big and God’s grace covers all?

Papa-God, no one loves us as fully as You do, flaws and all. You see us only through the eyes of Jesus, Your Son, our Savior, who paid the price for our sins once and for all.  Help us to see ourselves and those around us through His eyes. May we start living the victorious life through Jesus Christ, where Your grace covers all. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

When Giraffes Look Out Windows and Time Hangs on the Wall

We never know how the last moments with a loved one will affect us, or what we'll notice while we sit by their bedside and wait. But, in hindsight to my father's passing, these are the things I noticed, what I experienced, what was most profound as we held hands and waited. 

I enter his room for what might be the last time and squeeze behind the drawn curtain—the one that made him feel claustrophobic.

His brown eyes greet me as I bend low and kiss his ashen cheek. He draws a shallow breath and barely whispers, “Hello.” I pull the purple chair close because I want to hear every.last.word.

He thanks me for coming and caring since he took ill. “You’ve been so good to me and Mum.”

“It’s how I honor you, Dad. It’s the least I can do.”

Before he speaks again, I ask, “What more can I do for you?”

“Just hold my hand,” he whispers.

“Okay, now rest. Mom’s on her way. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

So, I take his hand—the one that used to hold mine—protect me, sat me on his lap while we watched the Wonderful World of Disney.

Our words are few because we've left nothing unsaid. We've asked forgiveness and forgiven; loved one another the best we knew how. God redeemed all our lost years and our brokenness so we could love one another well, even with all the sickness and physical demands over the past seven months.

Dad rests, but death hovers. I clasp his cool hands above the covers hoping my sweaty palms somehow spread warmth and comfort over him. Piano solos stream softly from my iPhone filling the silence between us as we wait. That’s when I notice the giraffe sitting on the window sill. This cute paper giraffe faces out—points away from death—toward the horizon. Huh. How profound, I think, as this giraffe distracts me; carries my thoughts from death to life. I squeeze my dad's hand and he squeezes mine as if to say, “It’s okay. Let me move toward that new horizon. Let me leave this old world behind.”

“Bang, bang, bang,” the hammering interrupts. A new patient arrives and the orderly hangs photos on the wall; frozen images in time. That’s how it feels for these dying patients…like time just freezes...hangs on the wall. The clock hands move, but death comes slow for the long-suffering.

Mom arrives within the hour and I let go, join the giraffe and keep watch on the horizon while time hangs on the wall.

The next morning I awaken, surprised the phone call hadn't interrupted my sleep. Giggling grandchildren fill my morning while my son grabs time for his farewell. When the phone finally rings, the nurse says, “Now.”

My son retrieves his children and I run out the door. I enter Dad's room where death feels palpable. His vacant eyes fool us into thinking death's already arrived, but the nurse says he's still there and he can hear. So I speak deliberate, intentional words. “I love you, Dad. No words left unsaid.”

The clock hands finally move. Time runs away, but I notice that giraffe's still sitting on that window sill keeping watch on the horizon where hope for all things new finally comes into focus.

I’m grateful for those moments alone with Dad the previous day. Many fear death, but I found his death brought the rawest emotions of love and gratitude than any other time we’d ever shared. I am forever grateful to have comforted him and held his hand while he waited to say farewell to all the family. We were never alone again. 

Jesus' Healing Hands

 

Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people. Matthew 4:23 NIV

Hospice interrupted our drawings. Five and three-year-old fingers gripped Crayola's while Dad was slipping away. He only had hours and I needed to go. But what do I tell my grandchildren? How do you explain you're saying good-bye to your dad without frightening them?

They'd already experienced the loss of their grandmother less than a year ago, so they were familiar with good-byes. I wish I could spare them, but these kids are inquisitive and intuitive. While I fumbled for my shoes and waited for their dad to arrive, they asked the question.

"Where are you going Grams?"

(Sharing my heart on Christian Children's Authors blog. Click here to see how God orchestrated this conversation).

Where is Heaven?

At that time Jesus said, “I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Matthew 11:25

“Where is heaven, Grams?” she asked. 

I nearly fell, head first into my car trunk as I neatly packed the grocery sacks, fumbling for just the right words. Her question wasn’t formed from a five-year-olds natural curiosity, but rather her heart’s longing to know Mammie’s new address.

It had been six months since Mammie’s unexpected passing and I’d been expecting this question, but hearing her vocalize it made answering it exceptionally daunting.  I knew my words would matter, because they would influence her hope and faith. I feared getting it all wrong and wondered how to explain what I couldn’t fully grasp myself. What simple, truthful answer could I offer her to this question that stumps even the greatest theologians?
 
I slammed the trunk shut, the question still hung between us. I swung the empty carriage around and lifted her into the car as I searched for just the right words. I breathed a desperate prayer heavenward, wherever that was, “Lord, I need your words…NOW!”

(Fill your favorite Christmas mug and join me over at the Christian Children's Authors blog for the rest of the story...)

Remembrances

"I thank my God every time I remember you." Philippians 1:3

I slipped a pussy willow sprig from her funeral basket and whispered my plans in our granddaughter's ear. "We'll plant it soon, in remembrance of Mammie."

So, I set that brown twig with soft-as-a-kitten buds in a bottle of water near a sunny kitchen window and prayed it grow roots. Buds continued erupting from the base of that brown stick to the top as it simply sat and drank.

Every time our granddaughter visited over the next few weeks we talked about that pussy willow branch - touched the soft buds, looked for roots, and remembered Mammie in heaven. And, every day I washed the dishes it caught my eye and I'd remember Mammie - giving thanks for the godly daughter she raised for my son and the times we celebrated our grandchildren together.

Soon, all the buds dropped and scattered across the kitchen counter leaving a lifeless looking branch. But, I still hoped and let it sit and soak - scheming to buy one at the garden store if this poor branch never rooted because I promised we'd plant our Mammie bush.

Roots appeared just in time for Mother's Day!

 

 We planted them in fertile soil...

 

...poured living water all around...

 

...and remembered Mammie.

Just like this branch, when we sit and soak and drink in God's presence - our Living Water - we grow and bear much fruit.

“But blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord,
    whose confidence is in him.
 They will be like a tree planted by the water
    that sends out its roots by the stream.
It does not fear when heat comes;
    its leaves are always green.
It has no worries in a year of drought
    and never fails to bear fruit.”

Jeremiah 17:7-8 NIV

Mammie planted her feet deep near the stream of Living Water, Jesus Christ. She never feared the heat or drought and the standing-room-only attendance at her memorial service testified to her fruit bearing life.

Now as summer approaches and the grandchildren we shared play in the shadow of this bush, we'll stop and give thanks for every remembrance of her.

What are some ways you help your children or grandchildren remember loved ones who've passed?

(Please stop by Christian Children's Authors blog today).

All That and a Bag O' Chips

 

 

"God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us."

2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NLT

I never understood the place comfort food played during loss until last week. All I wanted was a bottle of diet Coke, but somehow I walked out of our neighborhood grocery store with all that AND a bag of chips; like somehow my body craved more and more comfort food after an entire week of binging.

Within hours of my father-in-laws passing, neighbors dropped off chicken cutlets and salad. Friends delivered a basket of gooey pastries piled a mile high. Fed Ex dropped a Honey Baked Ham on the front stoop and gourmet chocolate baskets poured in from my husband's sympathetic clients. 

In a brief moment I thought, "There's a Seinfeld episode here somewhere!" What a funny way to share condolences, right? Not so much.

As waves of extended family and close friends arrived and we poured over Dad's photographs and favorite hymns, the last thing we thought of was food preparation or trudging out to a public restaurant. Exhausted at the end of every day all we craved was food - comfort food - that ooey, gooey, chocolaty, sweet and salty, delectable that satisfied our sorrowful emptiness with some familiar, short-term happiness.

But all that AND the bag o' chips I bought a week later? It wasn't lasting comfort. I knew that.  Lasting comfort comes in knowing the Source of all comfort  - God our merciful Father - and being reassured that Dad knew Him, too. Sounds cliche, I know, but when you realize the finality of death - when you know that today IS the last day you'll set eyes on  your beloved this side of eternity - there is no lasting comfort aside from knowing God and knowing death is NOT the end.

God, in all his mercy, sent his Son, Jesus to live among us (Emmanuel) to show us who He was and to bridge the chasm that sin drove between us. Through Jesus' death and resurrection lies all hope and comfort that even in death, those who place their faith and trust in Him, will be resurrected, given a heavenly body and spend eternity in a place prepared just for us.

"For we know that when this earthly tent we live in is taken down (that is, when we die and leave this earthly body), we will have a house in heaven, an eternal body made for us by God himself and not by human hands." 1 Corinthians 5:1 NLT

Now, that is everlasting comfort food and it is with that same comfort, Paul says, that we are to comfort one another.

Thank you, heavenly Father, for your mercy and enveloping us with your everlasting comfort in the midst of loss and sorrow. How reassuring to know that in this temporary world, You have prepared a place just for us; that in the end,  you will make us anew and eternal in Your presence.

How Do You Explain Life and Death?

 “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.” John 3:16

Children innately believe this life is eternal and as parents, we protect their innocence as long as possible. But, eventually, death interrupts this life and begs an explanation. While death isn’t a particularly “happy” topic, in light of recent tragedies, I felt it needed addressing.

If we’re fortunate, death makes its first appearance through an innocent lady bug or sundried night crawler before it takes our family pet or visits our beloved family member. But, no matter the circumstance or our age, death is always difficult and painful. For our children who think concretely, it can prove traumatic unless we take care to explain it honestly, clearly, and kindly and offer them tools to cope with their emotions.

How do we explain death? Death is concrete and our bodies, also physical and concrete, will cease working. The experts* suggest, “Honesty is the best policy,” with children. If we define death clearly and kindly we eliminate confusion. As Christian parents or grandparents, we also hold the hope of the Resurrection and eternal life. For the youngest, explaining this can prove complicated, but a kind pastor recently explained it like this:

(Please join me for the rest of the story at Christian Children's Authors blog)

Planting Hope in a Cowboy's Heart {between Buffalo & Portland}

"Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.' This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’" Matthew 22:37-39

My grandfather died and I prepared for my first solo flight. Leaving my husband behind, I clutched my boarding pass, slipped into the middle seat between a balding, middle-aged businessman and a tall, retired Texan cowboy straddling the aisle seat and prepared for take-off.

Ninety minutes into the two hour flight, after reading the contents in the seat pocket, the Texan cowboy and I decided a conversation might be nice.  We exchanged pleasantries like where we're from and why we're headed to Portland. He confirmed, beyond the obvious pointed snakeskin boots and cowboy hat, his Texas origins. And then he asked, "What do you do?" I pulled out a business card, certain that when the Texan cowboy layed eyes on the title "youth pastor" he'd pull the reigns back and stop all conversation. But he didn't.

The pilot announced ten minutes to landing and the cowboy pulled and E. F. Hutton on me. You know, the question that focuses everyone's attention on your answer? (The 1980's commercial that said, "When E. F. Hutton talks, everybody listens.") Cowboy looked at my business card and asked, "So, you're a pastor. What is our purpose in this life anyway?"

People spend lifetimes searching the answer to that exact question and I had ten minutes to make a difference in Cowboy's life (and everyone else listening around us). I didn't have my Bible handy and I couldn't just throw Scripture at this guy so I simply said, "Our purpose is to love God with everything we are and love each other the same way, like Jesus taught us. He created us to live in community with him and one another and to love as he loves."

"That's it?" Cowboy challenged. With less than ten minutes to landing I replied, "Yes, that's it. It's that simple." 

And yet it's more. Oh, I don't mean a list of do's and don'ts or liturgies and sacraments. It's about knowing and being known by our Creator and grasping the height and depth of God's love. It's about Kingdom living - understanding God's Kingdom is here and now and at the same time, not yet - and understanding our place in it. It's all about carrying the hope of life to others - day by day - because of Christ's Resurrection Day victory.

Between Buffalo and Portland, on the way to bury the dead, God's resurrection hope planted life in the heart of one Texan cowboy. That's Kingdom living!

Dance Above the Grave

"Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices; my body also will live in hope, because you will not abandon me to the grave." Acts 2:26-27a 

 In a poignant moment, loved ones huddled together - the toughest moment in life this side of heaven - and lifted voices above the grave. 

Just a closer walk with thee. Grant it, Jesus, is my plea. Daily walking close to thee, Let it be, dear Lord, let it be.

And as the notes rang out, and tears choked, two great granddaughters danced innocently above the grave.

It's never an easy thing to lose a loved one, especially one who lived fully, laughed often,  and loved unselfishly. One whose life - every part of it - built a legacy.

Her Maker's fingerprints were all over her - in her smile, her good humor, her touch, her voice, her embrace, her faith, and her worship.  And these things - tangible and intangible - built a family legacy; an unshakable joy-filled faith, passed from one generation to the next.

And this unshakable joy-filled faith - mingled with mourning - could not be contained, even at the grave. For Jesus lived and died and overcame the grave - for her - for all of us. And in his death we find life and if we have life in Him and live in our Maker's presence for all eternity - even before death - what is not to celebrate?  

Dancing above the grave? Oh yes! Oh...YES! Dance! Dance and dance and celebrate and embrace the life lived with Maker's fingerprints passed onto you and me! Celebrate life in the here and now and the here-after. For when we take our final breath we inhale heaven. And we stand face-to-face before our Jesus and meet our Maker...and dance!

In loving memory

of

{Clara} Bonnie Witham

11/14/1925 -1/24/2012

Just A Closer Walk With Thee Hymn
author unknown

I am weak, but Thou art strong;

Jesus, keep me from all wrong;

I’ll be satisfied as long

As I walk, let me walk close to Thee.

Just a closer walk with Thee,

Grant it, Jesus, is my plea,

Daily walking close to Thee,

Let it be, dear Lord, let it be.

Through this world of toil and snares,

If I falter, Lord, who cares?

Who with me my burden shares?

None but Thee, dear Lord, none but Thee.

When my feeble life is o’er,

Time for me will be no more;

Guide me gently, safely o’er

To Thy kingdom shore, to Thy shore.