I Wonder as I Wander

Yesterday while listening to a Christmas CD I heard the words to "I Wonder as I Wander" sung thus:
I wonder as I wander out under the sky
How Jesus the Savior did come for to die
For poor lonely people like you and like I;

I'm never sure why people record songs with different words than the author's. John Jacob Niles original version calls us poor ornery people, not lonely ones.

Turns out the idea for the song came from the daughter of a poor evangelist who Niles heard sing the first three lines, then he developed the rest.

Jesus didn't really need to die for lonely people, he could just come and be with us. But orneriness, that needs redeeming. Niles' haunting melody helps us consider the reality of Jesus' sacrifice, as he goes on to say:

If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing
A star in the sky or a bird on the wing
Or all of God's angels in heav'n for to sing
He surely could have it, 'cause He was the King.

Yet Jesus did not demand these things, but instead accepted the humble lot of his parents and the sacrifice on our behalf. The real beauty of this song comes if we actually do, wonder as we wander, truly pondering what Christ did in coming at Christmas.

Singer or not, take these words to heart as you consider the coming of the Christ Child.

Sun

The sun shines

Quietly rearranging the cold

Seamlessly interrupting the snow

Stabbing the doldrums with hope

Scattering fear and frozen postures

Into twirling dancing rays of anticipation.

Proposals Vs. Marriages

Today yet another YouTube proposal appeared on my Facebook feed, this one a half hour long. The site promoting it suggested that we should spend more time on weddings, months of preparation. I would suggest that the time spend on proposals and weddings falls in importance far behind the time spent on marriage itself.

Yesterday a woman was bemoaning that the most elaborate wedding she had ever witnessed lasted four months before the bride said her husband was too bossy. The family member telling the story lamented they had not done premarital counseling. Exactly.

If couples preparing for marriage actually prepared for their marriages instead of their proposals and weddings, they'd be grateful later. I feel bad for young men these days as these videos go viral, you can't just ask for her hand and give her a ring, you need a choreographer, back up singers and a video editor to perfect the moment.

So, men considering marriage...go ahead and make that proposal special, but go beyond that. Women, plan the wedding of your dreams, but don't leave it there. Both of you take the time to get some expert advice on your relationship, so that your marriage outlasts your YouTube fame.

Regret

This summer I have preached a series on An Authentic Life. My last sermon called An Authentic End focused on living well to die well. While preparing my sermon I found myself quite aware of the choices I made. Years ago I determined to live life without regret. So last week while my daughters were home, I treasured that rare moment, their only visit together between Christmases, and chose not to participate in some of my typical responsibilities. I often choose relationships over other events.

I am grateful that I have no huge regret in my life, no big event that changed my path that I wish hadn't. But I realized while preparing my sermon that regrettable choices can creep in through slow benign neglect.

Two years ago I decided to get healthy. I wasn't in terrible health, but I had let my weight creep slowly out of bounds. I began pursuing a healthier lifestyle, eating and exercise, to try to capitalize my health and live a long fruitful life, especially for the sake of my family. The choices I made that put on unwanted pounds happened daily in small increments, not a life shattering moment. Yet the results still affect me, and know in the same painstaking way I must reverse the trend.

If we want to die well, we have to live well. That includes living without regret, and that regret comes not just from landmark decisions we make, but also from daily negligence. Take stock of your current choices and the path they are leading you down. You'll never regret rethinking your life.

Where God Takes Me

Sunday I preached on the good Samaritan and loving your neighbor.

This morning while taking my walk I crossed paths with a neighbor who has recently lost his wife. I already saw him right after she died, on my street, which was amazing as well. I had been wondering if he is still working in the cemetery where I walk, and today he was driving a tractor cleaning the roads. So that answered my question, and I was able to talk to him about his grief.

This encounter made me late to lunch with some supporters of Roger's ministry, but seemed like a good example of not passing by the person in need, as the priest does in the good Samaritan story.

Then on my way back from lunch I saw another neighbor from my church I have been meaning to text since Sunday but hadn't yet. Good timing because he was leaving town and I know to pray for his trip and we set up an appointment for Sunday.

Next I had to take a young woman from church to get her birth control shot. She needs this, she is already raising three children with no resources, and her current boyfriend is not their father. As I drove her to the appointment, I didn't realize we were going to Planned Parenthood.

I had kind of a visceral reaction to having to go in the building. Years ago I accompanied a friend for an abortion, and I'll never forget the MARRIED woman who after aborting her baby said, "That was easy, why does anyone have children?" Although I would have not chosen an abortion personally, I could understand my friend choosing one at that point in her young life, but I could not understand that people who were married would be irresponsible enough not to use birth control then to abort an inconvenient baby, and probably do it again.

Now here I was, across the hall from the "Surgical Center." Next to me in the clinic room lay magazines, in particular, Seventeen. How sad that so many teens are sexually active and either want abortions or require birth control. I prayed while sitting there, not quite sure why God put this experience in my day, but wanting to be obedient. May God use even this for God's glory.

My Stand

Saturday night when I went to bed I checked my phone and saw an email from the NAACP asking me to sign a petition related to the acquittal of George Zimmerman. That's how I found out. From there I logged onto Facebook and saw the proliferation of responses on my news feed. It took me awhile to get to sleep.

The next morning at church 86% of churches did not address this issue. I was one of those pastors. Not because I didn't want to talk about it, but because I still didn't know what to say. Yet this issue loomed in my heart all morning, and I appreciated worshiping with my more black than white church.

It's taken me a couple of days to process and decide what to say in response. In two weeks I am preaching on race, so while I'm behind, this will be addressed. I can't just ignore it.

When I look at my Facebook news feed, I get a pretty good picture of our nation on this. As someone else explained, black people take this as a pattern, while white people take it as an isolated incident, which is pretty much the difference between the races and justice issues all the time, as illustrated in Divided by Faith by Michael Emerson and Christian Smith.

Some of my white friends and family just don't get the problem, the defendant was acquitted, move on. Let me say that two years ago I sat on a jury for a young man accused of murders, two separate scenarios. Our jury found him guilty of one, and not of the other. In talking to the police afterward, they felt confident he committed both. But the evidence as presented left reasonable doubt, and they understood why we chose the way we did. The responsibility of deciding someone's fate feels pretty overwhelming. So unlike some folks, I won't vilify the jury, I don't think the case was presented clearly enough under the laws of Florida for them to make a good decision. We can't go back and fix that.

However we need to bring systemic changes to our system. A recent article in the Wall Street Journal about racial profiling in New York City shows that the NYPD stopped more young black males than live there. Books like Michelle Alexander's The New Jim Crow show that blacks have been criminalized for crimes to a level that means fewer black men can vote now that before voting laws changed. These are the realities that the black community lives with daily.

We just sent five teens and our youth worker on bicycles from Cincinnati to Niagara Falls. Yes, literally, they rode their bikes 550 miles. What an accomplishment! I couldn't be prouder of all of them. Yet these same young men could easily be racially profiled and fall victim to the same treatment Trayvon Martin and so many others have suffered.

Many of my friends and family comment on the great work that Roger and I do in our ministry. We appreciate that affirmation. We hope we are doing what God called us to. And we cannot minister in the black community and ignore these issues. So don't praise me for my work, then chastise me for taking a stand. I can do no other.

Hoops and Heaven

Dart grew up in our church, married his sweetheart he met there, and they had a baby later, providing a good role model for other young men in our church. He recently moved back into the neighborhood and has engaged with local youth. Lately he has consistently brought Desmond to church. Two weeks ago Desmond asked me if he could be baptized.

Last week I didn't arrange that meeting, my fault entirely. But on Monday Desmond showed up in my backyard playing basketball, and I asked if we could talk.

He agreed and donned his t-shirt before joining me on my back stoop. I asked him his understanding of becoming a Christian, which he had little, so I turned through my Bible and walked him through verses to explain it.

I then asked if he wanted to make a commitment to Christ, and he said he did. I suggested he pray privately to ask for forgiveness, and he spent a good amount of time before indicating he was ready for the next step.

After our conversation I had a group with younger children from church, and didn't have any time to notify Dart. But as I drove around the corner after that group, Dart was coming out of his house and I was able to tell him in person. God arranges our steps.

I told Desmond the angels have a party anytime someone chooses to believe. They got to party yesterday over a young 16-year-old making good choices on the cusp of manhood, being influenced by a slightly older man showing him the fruit of good choices. Nothing better than pastoring in partnership with laypeople who are doing their part to draw others in. That's an assist even more impressive than Rondo leading the NBA.

But Not Like That

My last post communicated how I want to be like my dog in my devotion to God, getting up to follow God's lead, sitting and waiting when God does.

But I don't want to follow the way Roo follows. Because she doesn't actually follow. She walks ahead of me, although she wants to be going with me, she walks in front with her neck craned around so she can see if I'm still coming. With her head backwards, she often runs into things, since she's not watching where she's going, but watching me instead. Following would be much safer.

But isn't that how we often do? We say we want to follow God, but we get out in front, not really sure what direction God is headed since we are anticipating by running on ahead, yet since we're making sure God is coming along we aren't really watching where we're going either, and hence running into obstacles.

So much easier to just follow. If we fix our eyes on Jesus (Hebrews 12:2) we can see the path and the leader and whatever is in our way. Maybe someday Roo will figure this out. Meanwhile she reminds me of what to avoid.

Dog-like Devotion

The week after Easter we lost our 14-year-old dog Sunny. Letting her go was gut-wrenching, she had been my loyal support through the unexpected death of my mother 12 years ago, just after we adopted Sunny, and had been "my" dog ever since. But her misery outweighed the desire to hold on, and we exercised mercy then buried her peacefully in the back yard.

With our kids all moved on and Roger gone that coming weekend, I experienced my first ever time in our house entirely alone. I actually handled it fine, but I definitely missed the safety factor of a dog. I am committed to my urban neighborhood, but I realized that I also feel much more comfortable here with the intimidated presence of a canine. So I began to shop for a replacement, feeling fickle as I did so.

Roger thought not having a dog to be a good solution, but I found a new one online at the local shelter. She had been surrendered by her family because they couldn't afford to keep her. I was glad they didn't just turn her loose, but felt awful she had been in the shelter since January.

As she bounced around our backyard that first night, we decided to name her Roo, as in KangaRoo. She's part black lab and seems to be part Ibizan Hound, having those ears. She's the perfect intimidator, quite nice to friend but ready to defend her property. Despite Roger's original hesitance, he affirms Roo to be a good fit for us.

When my friend Teresa  heard the news, she said she hoped I'd get a good foot warmer. I've never had a dog who liked to sit on my feet, although Sunny would curl under my desk. But Roo does, and today she was curled up close to me while I was sitting in my prayer chair for some quiet time with God.

Someone created a lovely video comparing God and dogs, both being so faithful and encouraging. But today as I sat there I thought I'd like to emulate the dog's approach in my devotion to God. I'd like to be dog-like in craving God's company. Like Roo I'd like to crowd in close, not sure I'd have the nerve to sit on God's feet, but to be close by, and when God gets up to do something, to trot along to see how I can help.

I want to be still when God is still, wait when God waits, and act when God acts. Lord give me dog-like devotion to You and Your will.

What Really Matters

Yesterday we gathered in Lexington, Kentucky to watch the commencement exercises of the University of Kentucky, which happens to be my alma mater, and celebrate the accomplishments of my first born son Luke Howell.

As an alumnae of this university, and an avid Wildcats fan, I enjoyed sitting in Rupp Arena and admiring the sea of blue below, which included my son, draped with two sets of honors cords for his academic accomplishments.

What a relief to finally get to the ceremony, the traffic held us up for an hour, complicated by the rain. Thankfully Luke's girlfriend Mirna had saved us seats.

This traffic jam could have been avoided if we had planned our morning differently. The ceremony started at 1:00, and we chose to attend church first, partly because that's what we do on Sundays, give God his due in worship, and partly because we wanted to experience the church Luke has attended the last few years while in Lexington: Embrace.

The morning still could have been easier had we attended the service at the downtown campus of Embrace, where Luke usually worshiped. This congregation meets in the Kentucky Theatre on Main Street, and we could have walked to the ceremony and avoided the stress of the interminable line of cars.

However we elected to attend the newer campus of Embrace, where the founding pastor now preaches, partly to hear him, and mostly so Luke could say good-bye to the youth he has worked with at Common Good weekly. These were the youth he has poured himself into, most recently helping them with their fundraising talent show. He also wanted to see his mentor Trevor and express his gratitude for his support.

We had a special treat at this service, as a recent convert got baptized. Watching a new convert get baptized always qualifies as a special occasion. Seeing his joy at taking communion later added to the celebration. Being in Lexington the day after the Kentucky Derby and seeing the baptism take place in a horse trough added a hometown touch that I enjoyed.

We could have left sooner from this campus and been earlier to the ceremony, if it weren't for the fact that Pastor Roz called Luke forward to have the church pray over him since he was departing for the next chapter of his life. And that moment was worth all the stress of rushing to the commencement ceremony.

When the pastor invited the congregation to lay hands on Luke, the young men he has mentored rushed up the aisle and were first to reach Luke. John, the adult who has worked mostly directly with Luke and the youth group prayed for him. I stood with tears watching this holy moment.

We missed a bit of the ceremony in Rupp, but we saw Luke walk across the stage and shake hands with the President. But the real pride in this day, as much as I celebrate his academic accomplishments which he worked hard for, came in that moment seeing his legacy passed on to these younger men.

I am glad that in between studying and watching amazing basketball at UK, playing baseball on the club team and basketball with friends, Luke took weekly time to pour into others. That matters more than the degree he earned. I couldn't be more proud of that.

Unrequited Love

Unrequited Love conjures images of a bespeckled pock-faced boy, mooning after the cute girl in his algebra class, where he continually intimidates the class with his precociousness, eradicating any possibility said girl would feel comfortable attempting a conversation with him.

Or the 13-year-old girl screaming out her love at the concert of the latest teen heartthrob.

Or the 50-something wife and mother now sidelined by her husband chasing a younger skirt.

Or the widower trying to navigate the online dating system to replace his lost love.

But unrequited love also describes the mother of the newborn, smitten with her daughter who placidly sleeps oblivious to her mother’s affections until hungry.

That same daughter later drives off to college without a backward glance, rejoicing at new freedom while her mother mourns her absence.

Or the son who waits every Saturday for the father who never comes despite constant promises.

Or the grandmother who lies daily in a nursing home without visits from dozens of grandchildren.

Or the woman who calls her friend and leaves messages of concern but never receives a return call.

Or the employee who shows up for the meeting that no one remembered to tell him had been canceled.

It even applies to the road I pass while driving to my parents’ hometown, the old road that snakes next to the mountains and the river, now abandoned for the new four lane road, the one blasted through the mountains, displacing centuries and tons of rock while the old road still faithfully offers passage to the same place.

And every time I reach the point of choosing, I wish to take the old road, to enjoy its turning, to appreciate its faithful service, but haste chooses the new road, the waste of good mountains, and I tell myself next time.

And that faithful road remains waiting, wondering what it did wrong.

And I wonder how often does haste lead to unreturned affection?

Race, a great conversation ender

Race needs to be talked about. But know that you will nearly always be misunderstood. Yet it still needs to be talked about.

Yesterday I had an experience that made me appreciate my church, and I wanted to tell them so. This morning I included it at the end of my sermon. Someone misunderstood. But I still needed to say it. Here's what I told them.

Two years ago I started taking exercise classes. The first instructor was white and most of the participants were not only white, but upper middle class. Then I found a class closer to my house. The instructor was white but the participants included several African Americans and people seemed more middle class. I felt more comfortable, this is the world I am most familiar with.

Two months ago I switched to a new facility owned by an African American with all the instructors and most of the participants being African American as well. So on a typical week when I make it to class four times, I am the only white person present.

Yesterday I was tired from traveling all week, and I felt during my class not only the physical exertion but also the emotional strain of the discomfort of being the obvious person different from everyone else. Realizing that made me appreciate all the people who are constantly in that situation. I can retreat to my white world if I chose, but many people can't do that.

And I especially appreciate my church, because on a Sunday morning when most of America worships with people of their own race, my congregation has the courage to cross that line and fellowship across those racial barriers.

And I"m glad we talked about it today, even though someone misunderstood, hopefully we got that straightened out. It's not that I don't like being the minority in a group, but I was just acknowledging that at times it's hard to ignore the discomfort and strain that creates, for everybody in the room. We all need to experience that, more often, to be more understanding of the reality many never escape.

Thank you Lord for those who face that daily and still stand strong.

Dogless

Dozens of brightly colored Easter eggs await my consumption, but I only like the yellows and I've lost my egg partner who came when she heard me peeling one and patiently waited to help me out with the whites.

I can go out my front door for my walks without her barking, I used to leave by the back door which she accepted as me driving away.

Last night I got up out of my bed without worrying about stepping on her.

We cleaned up the dog hair and it's not back this morning.

I'll have to remember how to use a broom when I drop food in the kitchen, a habit hardly used in my adult life, since I've been without a dog only for weeks at a time on three occasions.

The verdict is still out on whether we'll again enter the world of dog ownership. Meanwhile life seems a bit less impactful, as no one is home to notice.

Rest well Sunny. I'm glad not to hear you panting and circling and falling down anymore. But for sure the silence is deafening.

Dogs

As a preschooler we had a boxer chained in the backyard named Lady. For me she was scary. Later we got a miniature schnauzer, but my dad didn't like having a dog in the house having been raised with hunting dogs, so that dog had to live at my granny's. When my dad left later, I wanted the dog back. He was a mean dog to all but family, and they put him to sleep and told us he died.

At 18 my brother found a beagle mutt puppy at the restaurant where he worked and brought her home. For the first time I had my own dog. She chewed up everything, so I named her Trouble. Shortly after that I moved in with my dad. I had to travel one weekend and left Dad and Trouble alone together, and that created a bond. He was now sold on house dogs and had several more over the years. He loved her even though she chewed on his high school diploma.

Trouble came with me when I got married. Roger too was skeptical, until he also found himself one on one with her for a weekend while I was gone. After that she had him wrapped too.

Trouble had a great temperament. With other dogs she never started a fight but would defend herself. With people she would protect me at all costs but if I accepted someone she was friendly. In the first house Roger and I lived in I could not see out the door when someone knocked. If Trouble stood wagging her tail, I knew a friend stood on the other side. If she barked, I needed to go to the window to see.

I didn't know how Trouble wouldd respond when Nora was born, but she adopted her as another charge. When Junia was born we put her out in the living room in a cradle. Our friend John came by to see her, and bent over the cradle. Trouble saw John weekly at our home for Bible study. When he bent over, Trouble stood on her hind legs between him and the cradle and barked. Later that day my dad came, who lived hours away and only occasionally visited, and Trouble didn't make any move when dad picked up his granddaughter. She understood.

Trouble lived to 18. The day after she died, my son Luke wanted to give her his leftover milk from his cereal. We took it out and poured it over the porch where we buried her. She had been unconditional love all my adult life to that point.

After that we adopted an older dog from friends moving into a retirement home. We only had him a couple of years and he got into everything, so I never got attached.

Next we took the family to the pound to pick a pet. They chose another beagle mutt we named Regal, about 10 months old. She was cuddly and fun and the kids adored her. She died at only four years old, somehow paralyzed, and some of the kids never gave their heart to a dog after that.

Christmas of 2000 we adopted a two year old shepherd mutt named Sunny from a man who was getting married and his new wife didn't want the dog as part of the package. I'm glad my spouse didn't feel that way about Trouble.

Sunny was sweet and energetic and had no manners as her former owner allowed her to jump on him then he'd pick her up. We took her to visit my mom in Jackson and she climbed the 6-foot privacy fence. But she never ran away, just waited for us to return.

That next February I lost my mom unexpectedly and Sunny sensed my grief. She hung close and comforted me and has been "my" dog ever since. She has loved chasing tennis balls with Luke on our concrete backyard, and would keep going until she ran her paws raw and couldn't walk the next day. She would go on runs with Wesley even though she wore out before he did and he'd have to drag her home.

She hasn't gotten along with other dogs, but like Trouble she's been great with people. She tolerates children, including those who knocked on our door this week and asked if she could come out and play. She's convinced children who were afraid of dogs to like her and give other dogs a chance.

She's smart too. Once she got in the van that I had loaded up to take Nora to college. I looked out the kitchen window and told her to get out and get in the house, and she did. She sleeps next to my bed and waits patiently for morning. I can get up and go to the bathroom and she stays curled on her mat. But when an alarm goes off, she's up. She lays next to me at my computer and when the email program says, "good-bye," she stands up figuring we're going downstairs.

Sunny has lived a good long life, even getting to go on vacation with us to Lake Walloon a couple of years ago. Sadly she has reached a point of needing permanent rest. As any pet owner knows, it's hard to say good-bye. Thanks, Sunny, for again providing me with unconditional love with fur on.

Sad but Not Despairing

On Good Friday the father of one of our church members died. He had not been in bad health in particular but was 86 years old. Evidently he just laid down sometime in the day and didn't wake up.

One of my friends asked me last night if I was having a good Friday. I told him what happened and he said what a sad day. I responded that Good Friday is supposed to be sad. He said but not that sad.

He's right. The first Good Friday was the saddest day ever. Hope died. But since that first Good Friday, nothing is as sad as that day because other deaths now have lost their sting.

On Saturday despair must have reigned as the reality sunk in. That's probably how my church member feels today too.

But on Sunday morning, dawn brought a tremendous surprise. Jesus had risen, just like he said. And hope won, despair was dashed, eternity opened for all.

I'm sure my church friend will still feel sad tomorrow. But the resurrection brings hope of reunion, and that takes the edge off our grief.

It's Not Killing Us

For Lent I have observed several disciplines, one of which involves abstaining from sugar. This has impacted me in particular during this long cold March when spring refused to show up, and I had to resist my favorite cold weather comfort, Starbucks hot chocolate.

Today I needed to buy the Easter flowers for church, and stopped in a grocery across town with a Starbucks conveniently located as I entered the front door. I looked longingly at the options as I walked by, thinking to myself, "It's killing me."

The moment these words formed in my head I thought how ludicrous this sentiment is, especially today. Much of the point of Lenten deprivations lies in the reminder of Christ's sacrifice on our behalf. On Good Friday to even consider comparing my abstaining from hot chocolate with the sacrificial death on the cross of Jesus proves laughable. I embarrassed myself even thinking such a thing.

Years ago I stopped letting my children use the common expression, "I'm starving." I told them no matter how hungry they may be, starving did not apply. People in other countries starve.

Today I realized how ridiculous it probably ever is to say "It's killing me." Perhaps it applies if one has cancer, or is overworking to the point of destroying their health, but most of the time when we use this expression no real threat of loss of life exists.

I'm also reminded that although Jesus could have said, "They're killing me" about his enemies, he actually chose to lay down his life for us. He could have avoided the whole drama of Good Friday, but he willingly sacrificed himself.

Lent will end soon. I'm looking forward to hot chocolate again. But I hope I also remember the lessons of Lent.

Trusting the Plan

From John Ortberg's book Who is This Man?:

"Leadership, says Harvard’s Ron Heifetz, is the art of disappointing people at a rate they can stand. In the last week of his life, Jesus exceeded the disappointment rate." 

The people couldn't handle how Jesus wouldn't step up to their expectation of a physical kingdom. So they killed him for it.

That historical death of Jesus is over. But aren't we guilty of something similar?  When Jesus doesn't live up to our expectations in some way, we bail too. Whether we actually lose our faith or not, we often disengage in frustration when we don't get our way.

We'd rather Jesus be our puppet, just like the people of his time on earth wanted. We have a hard time letting Jesus do it His way.

Maybe we should trust Jesus to have the best plan. That resurrection idea worked out pretty well.

Faithful

Today I am grateful that my husband is hardwired for faithfulness. His Myers-Briggs describes him as a pillar of society, and he brims with integrity and unwavering loyalty. What a gift that is.

When couples experience infidelity, the injured party usually wonders, "what did I do?" Even in a "bad" relationship, the choice to respond with unfaithfulness is just that, a choice. Having marital issues does not need to result in infidelity, and blaming the spouse for your own unfaithfulness is scapegoating.

I want to have a marriage that is more than just faithful, I want it to be full of mutual joy. But I am grateful for this bedrock of fidelity that makes trust and vulnerability possible. Thank you Roger.

The Reality of Holy Week

For most folks, Palm Sunday flows right into Easter Sunday. One Sunday they are celebrating Jesus' popularity as he rode into Jerusalem on a donkey, and the next Sunday they rejoice in the resurrection. What a nice sequence of events!

If we look at Holy Week this way, we lose the significance of what happened. Resurrection means little without the betrayal of Maundy Thursday, the torture and death of Good Friday, the anxious waiting of Holy Saturday. Even these earlier days of this week are represented in the Gospels as times of sparring with the officials and continued teachings and interactions of Jesus.

Consider how you can grasp the reality of this week. Attend a Maundy Thursday or Good Friday service. Fast part of this week. Participate in a prayer vigil or holy waiting. Plan on a sunrise service. Read the story of the passion in your Bible.

Resurrection means a lot more when we see from whence it came, when we grasp the depth of sacrifice made our on behalf. Determine to participate in this week in a way that deepens your gratitude for the risen Savior.

All God

In the past month we've had visitors at church weekly. All are folks who have moved into our neighborhood, which is the focus of our ministry. Some have returned, some haven't, but even having them come try us out can only be attributed to God attracting them.

I greatly appreciate the work of the Holy Spirit in their hearts to interest them in attending. May God guide them to the church they need to connect with.

Discernment with Divine Appointments

Tonight before going to an Emmaus event I stopped in Sam's Club. There I ran into the woman I served with in Emmaus last spring, picking up photos for this weekend's walk.

As I walked to my car, a woman approached me asking for help. She cried while telling me of her granny's funeral, being lost and needing gas and her special needs son who needed food. I listened trying to discern her authenticity. Roger and I don't give cash to strangers, but I offered to follow her to a gas station and buy her gas. When I did so, she said she would ask someone else for cash to buy food for her son. She walked away and I knew she wasn't sincere and I was relieved not to have fallen for it.

When she began talking I wondered if this was a divine appointment. It's easy to rush to help, but that can lead to helping people continue negative life patterns, so I was grateful for caution.

Arranging

Earlier this week I mentioned how God got Mark to University Hospital here in Cincinnati. Today one of our own folks, John, is having surgery at the same hospital. Now that may seem insignificant, but you have to realize how many hospitals Cincinnati has.

This makes it easier to visit them both, but also adds to prayer power. John's mom is my chief prayer warrior, so I can put her onto Mark's case up close and personal. She is disabled so would not usually get out to a hospital to pray for someone, and of course she can pray from home, but nothing like personal contact to up our prayers.

Words Will Be Given

Many times I have quoted these words from Luke 21 when facing a challenging adversary:
13 And so you will bear testimony to me. 14 But make up your mind not to worry beforehand how you will defend yourselves. 15 For I will give you words and wisdom that none of your adversaries will be able to resist or contradict.

My husband Roger's organization City Gospel Mission has been locked in a legal battle for years over a new location and the neighbors that don't want them there. Despite continued victories on the side of the Mission the neighbors continue to think of new tactics.

Today Roger had to testify, and lawyers are good at twisting our words, confusing us, making it hard to communicate the truth clearly. We have been praying for Roger to be calm and speak as God would want.

Last night at Bible study, guess where we were in our journey through the Gospel of Luke? Yes, reading those words I quoted above. No coincidence there.

And today the Holy Spirit guided Roger, the lawyers labeled him their star witness, and the Mission again won their appeal. Praise God.

Please pray for more funding so they can break ground on this new building that will great bless the homeless and needy of Cincinnati. Thanks. 

More Holy Tracking

At night I turn off my cell phone, because I'm such a light sleeper a text message will wake me. Once awakened I can really struggle to return to sleep.

Last night I didn't want to turn it off because I gave that number to the family of Mark in ICU. I woke up about 3:30 to go to the restroom and I was literally holding my phone when my brother texted me about his latest medical progress. (He lives in California, so not so late for him.) Since I was already awake this did not disturb my sleep and I was glad to get the message.

More Coordination (for Tuesday)

Over the weekend a trucker named Mark had a stroke while driving through Kentucky and had to be admitted to University Hospital here in Cincinnati. His sister-in-law attends a Free Methodist Church in Lansing, one whose pastor was also at CUE with me last week. Because of this connection, Christians here in Cincinnati have been able to reach out and care for the family and pray for the trucker.

We have a lot of cities in our country without Free Methodist Churches, but God sent Mark to a city where connections could be made for his benefit and to support his family.

Holy Tracking

Several times in the last few days I've had a special sense of knowledge or sensitivity. Last week I had a song in mind that the next person we saw quoted. Another day I thought of someone then heard from them.

Today I texted my brother to check on him and he texted me at the same time. You have to understand that my brother doesn't communicate with me much. He thought it was weird timing. And he's not a believer.

I haven't done anything to orchestrate any of this. But perhaps trying to pay attention to God's workings has heightened my sensitivity to the movings of the Holy Spirit. Lord, direct my path.

St. Patrick

When I was arranging my wedding one of the places I called upon hearing my name asked if I was marrying an Irish boy. Roger does has some Irish blood mixed with the British.

At times being Irish can be embarrassing, and the way people act on St. Paddy's Day would be one of them.

But as for the original saint, he inspires me. After being captured as a slave by the Irish and escaping, he felt God calling him back to the land of his captivity to reach the Irish with the gospel.

What I really like about his approach is he didn't try to rob the Irish of all of their customs. He didn't try to turn them into British Christians. They kept their own flavor to their faith. That was brilliant, and the missionary movement of later years sure could have learned from him.

As I minister to others of different culture than myself may God give me the wisdom to allow their own practices to continue, and yet follow Christ. Thank you St. Patrick for showing the way.

Moving with the Spirit

This morning at our urban conference I had to fill in for the devotional speaker who had been in the hospital earlier this week for gallbladder stones.

My morning reading as I travel through the Bible was Joshua, which I had also been reading about in the Circle Maker book, concerning walking around Jericho before the battle. We planned to pray in the nation's capital, so this formed a perfect text for our day.

Later we prayed in front of the Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. memorial, and as we finished the song came to mind "on Christ the solid rock I stand." Then we visited a church, where the pastor quoted that song.

Next we saw the United Methodist building where another of our Free Methodist church plants worships. The church I pastor started in a United Methodist building, which they later gave us, so I prayed this would happen to New Vision in the City as well. I look forward to hearing the future results of those prayers.

Passing the Baton

In 1987 I took my first born child to our Free Methodist urban conference (CUE), a babe of two months. This morning that baby now grown taught a workshop at CUE on race in the church. I have heard Nora share her material before. But the first time today that I heard her step up with authority and exercise group management, calling out adults more than twice her age and keeping them on track, even I was taken aback. She not only knows her material, she knows how to facilitate a difficult topic with a group.

This particular group of people have prayed for her over the years, today they saw the fruit of their prayers.

Flying

Not a new miracle, but still unbelievable that a heavy piece of metal full of people can soar like a bird and deliver me in one hour what takes all day to drive, and even longer to walk. Modern transportation provides us with access to events previously not possible, as I attend our denominational urban conference today. I will reunite with friends from California, all able to gather because of this modern miracle of human ingenuity and the laws of the universe created by an amazing God.

I am grateful for flight. (I left today from the Dayton, Ohio airport, the home of the Wright Brothers!)

Orders My Steps

Today I was frustrated when I realized I forgot my coupons so I had to go home after my therapy appointment before stopping at the grocery.

When I got home I arrived at the very moment a friend was bringing clothing to donate to Roger's work. He was able to load it all into my van directly for Roger to deliver.

Then I had to take crutches to an injured parishioner. I arrived when the physical therapist was visiting, which answered a question about why his nurse hadn't come, and took care of another issue for me.

On this day before I leave town, I appreciate God's extra help.

God Knew

This winter I saw my friend's wife in Santa Barbara the week before her mother died. I have only met her twice, her husband travels more so I have seen him more often.

Her mother died on the same date as my mother years ago. So a month after her mom died I contacted her to tell her I was thinking about her on that date.

Sunday morning I dreamed that this couple came to visit me and I was able to comfort her in person. When I emailed her about my dream, she responded, "Such timing – today is my birthday – thanks for sharing your dream."

I didn't know it was her birthday. My first birthday after my mother died was one of my hardest days, and if I had known, I would have certainly reached out. But I don't think it was a coincidence I dreamed about her on that day.

Circles

The same day I finished reading the Circle Maker, which talks about marching around places we want to claim, I called my friend Erin. She said her husband John wanted to apply for a job that seems like a great fit for him at the VA Hospital, and she wanted to march around the hospital 7 times like Joshua did Jericho. I told her I'd come too! I had just finished reading about that very thing, and I don't believe in coincidence.  I believe in God's timing.

So today their family and I marched around the hospital, praying for favor, asking God to install John there where he could share the compassion of Christ with veterans. Looking forward to good news!

Drumming

Earlier this week I mentioned our need for a drummer. Tonight we had a guest at our church who is a drummer. That doesn't mean he's staying, but I did ask the group to pray for a drummer for us, so we'll see what happens.

Also at this meeting (a city wide invitation) was a woman who used to work for Roger when we first met. I hadn't seen her in years so it was quite a treat to reconnect. I was admiring her for how she worshiped, then figured out I knew her.

Tonight was also Roger's birthday, and the group sang to him and prayed for us. Without any family in town that felt like a nice substitute.


Send that drummer Lord!

Good News

For months my shoulder has been hurting. The chiropractor hasn't been able to help, and suggested I see an orthopedic. I dreaded being told I'd need surgery.

I postponed the visit for awhile, trying to see if a better diet would help. No change.

Today I saw a doctor we used years back, who has the nicest bedside manner of any doctor I know. I enjoyed seeing him again.

And I enjoyed even more being told it's tendonitis, not a tear requiring surgery. What a relief!

Still a Dream (for Wed)

Recently I finished reading Mark Batterson's book, Prayer Maker. Much of his book I like, Jesus suggested bold praying like the widow who pommeled the judge with her insistence.

But much of it left me discouraged. For example, Mark's church needed a drummer early on. God told him to get a drum set. He bought a drum set, even though funds were tight, and the next Sunday a professional drummer showed up.

I have a drum set at church, and my son played until he left for college last year. I have prayed consistently for a new drummer, to no avail as of yet.

Mark marched around DC and prayed like Joshua for wherever he put his feet. We have done that kind of praying here in our neighborhood...but not had the same results.

However when God was directing my playlist on prayer day (see Soundtrack of My Soul) I heard "Still a Dream" a Nicole C Mullen song I created a video for about our church.

We may not be huge, but we have accomplished something rare in this country, an integrated church. That was our dream, and it still is, and I appreciate God reminding me.

Soundtrack of My Soul

This morning on my walk I started my music without realizing it was on shuffle. Of course I like everything on my playlist, but today God sure picked what I needed to hear.

The first surprise song was Still a Dream, which reminded me of my dream for a diverse church being realized, more on that tomorrow.

I also heard Amazing Grace, My Chains are Gone, a favorite at our church which we just sang Sunday as we prayed for folks to be set free.

Another was Joyfully, which is one of my favorite joyful songs, based on Psalm 23.

Then Never Once, which reminds me I am never alone. I first loved this song when I heard it after Junia's accident, so it has a special meaning for me. I noticed for the first time an extra phrase Matt Redman says in his recording that's not in the music, "we shall not be overcome." I have been feeling overcome, so that was a good reminder.

I am grateful for God's orchestrating my soundtrack this morning.

Helping

This morning I was thinking about a particular young person I know. Later she texted me because she needed help with how to file her taxes.  I was able to direct her to what had used for my kids. She did the work herself and got a great refund, which she never had received before. I was glad to help in a small way and even more gad she got a refund!

Praises

Each week at church we share our praises. Today one of our folks shared a job promotion! This is a great blessing for her financial situation. Premature twins we have prayed for both are now home from the hospital. A woman and her daughter we haven't seen in a year came to worship. Another young man we've been praying for came for his third time. Praise God for these blessings and more.

Welcome March

Welcome March.

Beneath your petticoats hides spring.

As Sun rises sooner

And Moon retires later

And Rain soaks your skirts

So that flowers burst forth to herald approaching warmth

May Spring have courage to step out and receive

A hero’s salute

For valiantly rescuing us from the captivity of Winter.

My Dog

Today I had to catch my dog when she almost tumbled down the stairs. She's 14, in regular years. A shepherd mutt.

We got her at Christmas 2000; she was two years old and her owner was getting remarried and his new wife had a cat and didn't want the dog.

That coming February my mom died unexpectedly, throwing me deep into a paroxysm of grief. Sunny sensed my pitiful state and brought me great comfort. She's been "my" dog ever since.

I'm glad I could catch her today. I'm not sure where this is going, sadly. But I am grateful for the comfort this furry creation of God has been to me over the years, my constant companion, the Holy Spirit with fur, not that the Holy Spirit inhabits my dog, but she has been a concrete expression of unconditional love and regard that I appreciate.

We humans are created uniquely in the image of God. But certainly all of creation reflects and "images" God in some fashion.

I've been carrying her up and down the stairs ever since. She took a turn carrying me, it's the least I can do.

Even More Provision

About this time two years ago my youngest son had to decide where to attend college. None of the possible engineering school gave him much support, so sending him to school meant some creative financing. I thought perhaps I needed to find some source of income, a second job of some kind, and I even looked on Craig's List for options.

I am a full-time pastor, but only get housing. Yet trying to find something to fit with my other responsibilities and pay enough to be worthwhile proved difficult.

For these first two years of his college time we have been able to keep up with the costs. Our other son graduates this year, which means the government expects we can devote more to the remaining son, so we don't know what to expect the next two years.

At the beginning of this year I began a project that I can work around my other responsibilities weekly and provides some extra income. I enjoy doing it and appreciate the benefit of being paid. Without my actively looking again, God provided.

More Provision

Yesterday my youngest son Wesley received an offer for a summer job internship. That alone can be attributed to his own skills, as the employer complimented his interview skills. So how does this qualify as a Day of Wonder worthy event?

Wesley also had an internship offer here at home. As he has looked for other opportunities,  my concern was the living expenses of living elsewhere, which could greatly reduce the gain of the summer employment. I hated to have to tell him he could not take a position out of town due to the finances.

He is excited about this new offer, working for Club Car. He remembers with fondness my father working on golf carts, and mentioned this to the interviewer. In addition he'll be testing prototypes, not doing some kind of meaningless mundane task. So of course he wants to take this position.

And the Wonder element is they provide a living stipend! The pay actually exceeds the position in Cincinnati, and the living stipend neutralizes those expenses. Yea!

Provision

Last fall a young man who attended high school with my son asked if he could volunteer for our church. We run a Sunday evening program for children and youth that always needs help, so I was glad to welcome Sean to the team. As it happened he came a few times before Christmas and met Stephanie, our volunteer for 20+ years.

Stephanie graduated to heaven in January and I mentioned to Sean how grateful I am for his coming to help, and I am glad he met Stephanie so that when the children talk about her, he knows who they mean.

This past Sunday night we were especially short handed, with some workers out of town and one sick. Sean asked if his friend Sharise could help, and she was able to help my husband with the pre-schoolers. God provides!

Prayer Answered

Last Sunday Margarette shared in our fellowship lunch prayer time that she needed to buy a washer and dryer. She had driven all over and missed the deals she wanted. We prayed about it.

The next day the lady Margarette cleans for offered to put a new set on her credit card for Margarette, take what cash she had saved and allow Margarette to pay her off over time. A new washer and dryer the day after we prayed about it! God is good.

Angels Watching Over Us

Nora and I got up early this morning to meet my cousin for breakfast. He works third shift as a cop, so he wanted to see us after he got off and before his day job. After breakfast, we were on the side of town with stores where we needed to buy final supplies to finish organizing her room. So we were driving back and forth between stores on a misty morning that steamed up the windows.

Nora pulled out in front of an approaching car coming out of one of the parking lots but we avoided disaster. What a relief. Besides the obvious risk of bodily harm, her older model car only has liability insurance so fixing it would be out of her budget.

She hasn't had an accident since early in her driving career, on another rainy morning, when the brakes didn't work fast enough. She said it probably wasn't to her credit that she'd had no other accidents, and I think we can all say that. I am grateful for guardian angels that protect us. And I'm counting on that as I fly home tonight.

Part 2:
When I got to the airport I sat in the wrong place, right by my gate, but the announcements from my flight could  not be heard. I was starting to wonder why we weren't boarding when I heard an airport wide announcement for my plane. I jumped up, grabbed my stuff and hurried to my plane. I normally wouldn't mind another night at Nora's, but Roger would have minded having to stand in for me preaching!

I couldn't sleep on the plane, so I was worried about driving home the hour from Dayton's airport to Cincinnati. UK's basketball game against Mizzou kept me awake, plenty intense, then went into overtime. Thankfully they won but the bonus for me was the overtime got me almost home! Thank you Lord for traveling mercies.

Intervention

Sometimes it's the little things. I came to Baltimore to help Nora paint and organize her bedroom in the new house. She wanted three walls yellow, and one white as a backdrop to photograph her art. The room used to be blue, so after trying to paint yellow over blue, we discovered we had to prime it all. Primer required a four hour drying time.

When I returned to put yellow over the primer, the window wells were not dry because of the high moisture around the windows. We had to use a heater to dry them, therefore we skipped painting them while we continued with the walls.

Today when we returned for the next coat, we decided we really liked the window wells left white. Had they dried with the rest, we would never have noticed that option.

Her room is finally painted, fresh and beautiful. I love helping my children get settled in their home away from homes.

Moving

In the fall of 2009 Nora moved to Baltimore to begin her graduate work. I rejoiced with the blessing of her moving in with Bekah, a fellow Wheaton grad, who had moved to Sandtown to work for the school run by New Song Church. Bekah had rented a house on Presstman Street on the same block as the church, right next door to the coffeehouse also sponsored by the church. Despite the rough neighborhood, I felt the Holy Spirit covered them, with the church having such a good rep in the neighborhood and the coffee shop staff right next door on one side, and a church couple on other.

Through the years the Presstman ladies have struggled with the rental property, as any rental, it had issues. At the beginning of this year, Bekah bought the house right next door, as the church couple bought another house in the neighborhood. Moving could not have been easier! No vehicles to rent, just helpful people who carried everything down one set of stairs and up another.

Now they have their own place that was already in much better condition and they can change as they want. Bekah, Nora and Margot have established a rapport with their neighbors by throwing many parties and block events, and they don't have to start over on another block!

Perspective

Today before our plane could leave we had to de-ice and  it took awhile so our plane arrived late in Baltimore. This gave Nora more time to get ready to pick me up and we re able to buy paint for her house. Even late can be a good thing when you're looking for God at work.

When we took off from the airport it was still dark, the street lights of the city creating points of light in the darkness. We lifted up through the misty cover of sky, and when we arrived above the blanket of clouds the horizon shone red from the rising sun. Darkness still shrouded the earth below but light had begun to dawn above.

Never Alone

This morning I took a walk in Spring  Grove Cemetery near my house. For those of you unfamiliar with this location, it might sound weird, morbid, and dull to walk in a cemetery. But Spring Grove spans over 700 acres, is also called an Arborteum, showcasing ponds, trees, and beautifully manicured grounds. To take a loop around the perimeter involves over 5 miles. I greatly enjoy walking there, often surprising deer in the early morning.

I had done my "Tuesday" route which involves some steep climbs (Cincinnati boasts seven hills) and hit the final way home, a long stretch of open straight road where I could see no one. Just as I did, the music on my phone played "Never Once" by Matt Redman, which says "never once did I ever walk alone, never once did you leave me on my own, you are faithful, God you are faithful."

I first heard this song the Sunday after my daughter Junia's horrific bike accident, the one where she flipped onto the pavement in Houston and no car ran over her. We couldn't be more thankful that despite multiple injuries she survived. I had flown down to help, and we worshiped with my friend Margaret  Dunn that Sunday morning and I heard this song for the first time, immediately grasping its significance for Junia's deliverance.

So this morning on that vacant path before me I was once again reminded we are never alone, despite what our eyes would tell us.

Return

Two weeks ago a young man came to church with his friend. He sat alone in a back pew, and I considered it a challenge to get this Will Smith look alike to smile. The next week he said he would come, but at the last minute left to do some "work."

Yesterday he was back. Still not smiling much, but seeming a little more engaged. Stay tuned for the next development in what God is doing in his life.

Orders Our Steps

Roger attended a conference in January hosted by the fund raising company that helps City Gospel. All the attendees are director and marketing folks from gospel missions in the US and Canada that use this company. Hundreds of people.

I flew out to CA with him so I could see my brother, his wife and my two adorable nephews. So I joined him to return home.

The morning before we left I had breakfast with everyone at the conference. We sat down at a table with the massage therapist that works for the company. Two women joined us and the one next to me engaged me in conversation.

I learned Sharon lives in Toronto, and I mentioned I have a pastor friend there, Howard Olver. Turns out she attends Howard's church.

I was at this event for ONE meal. I sat next to Roger and ONE other person. That one person knew someone I know, in a huge metropolis in another country. How crazy is that? Not crazy in God's amazing way of ordering our steps.

God's Timing

Tuesday Roger needed some prescriptions picked up from our neighborhood grocery. I rushed over during the UK_Florida game, intent on being as quick as possible.

While I hurried through the crowded store, someone grabbed by arm. I turned to see a woman who had been missing from church, and I thought had moved. I was able to get her new phone number so I could keep in touch when she does move. God's perfect timing!

Side benefit: I missed the terrible crash of Nerlens Noel, so I don't have to replay the gruesome season ending injury in my mind.

God is good.

A Valentine Salute

We celebrate this holiday named after a martyr, for which someone created a hilarious cartoon, showing a man holding his decapitated head at the romantic dinner table of a couple celebrating in his name.

St. Valentine suffered arrest and martyrdom for continuing to marry couples despite the government edict to desist. Then he wrote letters to the jailer's daughter, (not romantic ones) so now we have this flurry of Valentine mail in that tradition.

On this second day of celebrating God's miracles in my daily experience, today I celebrate the daily miracle that is my marriage. After 30 years, four children born, raised and moved on, his para-church ministry that grows exponentially, my church plant now church that grows in ways mostly unseen, I appreciate my husband who stands by me through it all.

Last night before our Ash Wednesday Service he had to carry my guitar and microphones over, return to the house for the ashes I forgot, come back and hang the banner, then run the computer and sound. Then he washed up the extra dishes before bed. That's just a typical evening.

Tonight we get to celebrate with dinner out, then he's going along to my monthly Emmaus Gathering, a romantic touch to the evening.

Some of my friends have lost their husbands to death, for which I am saddened, others to divorce, another way of heartbreak. I am grateful Roger still stands strongly in my corner, cheering me on, keeping me encouraged, helping me in so many small and large ways.

Today I celebrate the miracle of marriage, for any, and for us.

Set the Captives Free

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen:
to loose the chains of injustice
    and untie the cords of the yoke,
to set the oppressed free
    and break every yoke? Isaiah 58:6

Lent begins today, a time of fasting. I appreciate this yearly call to regroup and discipline myself. What's missing sugar compared to what Jesus did for us? And every time I'm tempted to whine, which is often, I try to remember that. Easter dawns with great joy after a season of deprivation, and hopefully my spirit soars with more than just Easter candy.

This year besides the deprivations I will impose on myself, I hope to write a daily blog, even if brief, documenting God's work. I'm calling it 40 Days of Wonder.

God has no trouble supplying me with material, I already have enough for days. On this day of Ash Wednesday, with verses like the above in mind, I met with someone who had been captive to a lie of the enemy most of her life. Jesus with his still small voice spoke truth to her and set her free. 

I told her to give up depression for Lent. That's a worthwhile choice to make. In fact, give up depression, negativity, criticism, pride, judgement, inertia, self-centeredness.  Imagine what would happen if we gave up things that bind us.

God is waiting to free us, so let that be the kind of fasting we participate in, fasting that sets the oppressed free. Welcome Lent!

Ruby Sparks

In the movie Ruby Sparks, a writer named Calvin writes a woman into existence. He falls in love with her, and after proving to his brother that what ever he writes about her happens, like making her speak French, Calvin puts away his writing and lets Ruby just live her life. He enjoys their relationship until Ruby begins to show some independence. Dismayed at her response to him, instead of letting that happen, he pulls out the paper and typewriter and writes her back into his presence. He continues to manipulate her by writing about her, until a crisis of proving his power over her then releasing her to herself. She leaves, he is heartbroken and writes a book about it. Then one day he happens on her again. She has no cognition of who he is to her, and he begins to woo her again as any man woos a woman.

When his brother first finds out the startling truth, he says he would love to be able to write his wife's annoyances away. Imagine if we could change those we love...which we often try to do, manipulating others to fit our own needs. Perhaps the very annoyance we would love to eliminate has some greater purpose.

Truthfully the only one who should be re-writing our character is God, who must shape us into the image of Christ. Yet because God gave us free will, we must submit to that change.

In fact, God did not make Calvin's mistake. God after creating us could have made us dependent on his every expression of who we are, but God knew that love forced is not love at all. So God allowed us to be ourselves from the moment God created us. Thank the Lord we are not subject to the capricious whims of a writer, or the selfish conceits of a lover, but instead have been empowered by a loving God to walk our own path, yet offered the option of obedience.

We do well to allow the Supreme Author to write our story. Then we know we can live happily ever after.

The Why of Grief

Recently I've written about grief. I mentioned that when my mom died, I felt quite unraveled. While missing her terribly, I could acknowledge the reality that her entrance to heaven represented a wonderful upgrade from her earthly life. True for anyone, but my mother had suffered much in this world and mentioned before her death a need for a vacation. She sure got one.

Currently I am dealing with a dear friend in a coma. Unlike my mother, this woman faces life with gusto. She serves God at our church with youth. She has young adult children she anchors and mentors. A granddaughter she has helped to raise. She is the most optimistic person I know. Laughs at everything. Tells me every time we talk, "love you much," and means it.

Heaven is an upgrade for anyone, but it's harder with someone like this to discern why she needs to depart so soon.

We always want to know why. We detest randomness. We know God is a God of order, so life cannot be random. When situations make little sense, we protest. Or at least I know I do.

If we can find a logical answer, we can avoid that circumstance. If we can blame something concrete, we know how to stay safe.

But that doesn't work, not for the children at Sandy Hook, or my friend, or many others who suddenly face death without a logical reason.

I don't understand why. And that ranckles me.

But I am comforted by the reminder that as much as death seems the enemy, death is really the door to eternity, and although we don't want to pass that way in haste, it is actually a door to freedom and glory. These words comfort me:

The righteous perish,
    and no one takes it to heart;
the devout are taken away,
    and no one understands
that the righteous are taken away
    to be spared from evil.
² Those who walk uprightly
    enter into peace;
    they find rest as they lie in death. Isaiah 57:1-2

I have no specific answer why my friends is being taken away while so young, so useful, so loved, so needed. But I do rejoice that she will find rest in death. She does deserve that.