From my heart to yours . . .
“The Bolivar Lighthouse”
When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, "I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." John 8:12, NIV
Growing up in Galveston was a child’s dream in countless ways. Life was so very different back then. I thank God I grew up in this time when nearly all the activities of daily life were so family-focused. All of the things we did, we did, by and large, as families…being together was a HUGE part of every day life. With its “year-round summer” climate and year-round-vacation atmosphere, Galveston was indeed an exciting place to live. One of my most favorite things to do was to take a ferry ride over to Bolivar Peninsula. At that time, there were very few residents or buildings. There was one café at a crossroads right down from the ferry landing – and that was about it unless you went into the little village of Bolivar itself….
Except, that is, for the tall, stately, old lighthouse that stood right next to the highway. Adjacent to it was a beautiful old home that had been built years before as a residence or office for the lighthouse keepers, perhaps??? The house stood high on its pillars, and to me, its long, white-painted porches seemed to say “Welcome, traveler…you’re safe now. Come and sit for awhile and have something cool to drink.”
My childhood imagination would work overtime each time we drove past it. In fact, my fascination with this beautiful lady of the seaside continues still. When my own children were young, we would take at least one ferry ride every time we came to Galveston to see Grandma and Grandpa. We would park on the side of the road, and while the children played on the sand dunes, I would sit and sketch one drawing after another of my favorite lighthouse. I longed to live there, to be quite honest with you. Even though I knew that was impossible, I never lost that desire to live there. I would still love to live there.
Over the years, this weather-beaten lighthouse became a symbol of hope to me, so as Ike approached the upper Texas coastline, one of the places I prayed for the most was Bolivar…knowing it’s extreme vulnerability to tidal surges, I wondered how on earth, or even if, its hardy residents or my precious lighthouse would survive.
Throughout the storm that night, my thoughts turned to Bolivar often as I prayed for the many people in this area. As the news reports began to show the damage as circumstances and daylight would allow, I longed to know how Mom and Dad’s old house and the places I used to frequent in Galveston were faring. Most especially, I prayed for my lighthouse, longing to know how or even if it had made it through the storm.
Each day I watched the televised reports of the storm damage and searched the photos on the web eager to get a glimpse of my lighthouse, and after days of searching, I began to accept the fact that it was gone. How could such an old relic make it through such a powerful storm – standing all alone, no one able to care for it, the gusts of winds and stinging rains beating against it time and time again, wave, after wave, wave after wave, wave after wave, crashing against its old rusting walls, hour after hour, after hour.
As I opened my mail Monday, there were yet more pictures of the storm damage in my box. After so many pictures over the past ten days or so, I didn’t even open them until later on in the day – there were just too many other things to do and meetings to make, and errands to run, and people to see, and calls to return, etc., etc., etc. When I went home for lunch, my son Kenneth told me he has forwarded some pictures to me – some of which he knew I would want to see. “Your lighthouse made it, Mom. It’s still there. I sent you the pictures I got this morning.”
I could hardly wait to open the file. It was such a huge file…with hundreds of pictures, so it seemed to take forever to finish downloading. I scrolled from picture to picture until at last, there it was…tall and stately as ever before, my lighthouse had made it – a bit bruised and battered, of that I am sure – but she made it! Tears of joy and prayers of thanksgiving were lifted to heaven as I thanked God for this miracle.
The weariness of the past few weeks, the intensity of making the preparations for the storm and mucking through the mud, the lack of electricity and pools of standing water, and piles of storm debris in the aftermath of the storm … the frustrations of trying to help so many people and feeling so helpless and overwhelmed, the pressures of just trying to make it through the day, in all the traffic, seeing all the damaged areas, seeing and feeling the pain of so many who are suffering – all of this now began to take on a new perspective.
My sense of hope was lifted in new ways. I felt renewed energy, inside and out. Strength began to surge throughout my spirit. In the mess and mire of trying to get life back up and going again, seeing my lighthouse, and knowing she had made it through such an awful storm released a spirit of hope in me more powerful than any tidal surge. An answer to prayer. A symbol of light in the darkness. God was speaking to my child-like heart, reminding me that the Creator of the Universe still hears the simplest of prayers from the simplest of people – and most especially those spoken in the midst of the storms of life that assail us from time to time.
In his first letter to the church at Corinth, Paul writes that there is no temptation, no situation, no flood, no storm that can assail the believer in this life that God has not ALREADY provided a way through…nothing, I repeat, NOTHING can ever come against His children that He will not be there with us and help us through – we just need to look to and lean on Him and not ourselves. While I do not believe God sends the storms, I do believe He does allows them, yet there is always, always, always a divine best reason for why He allows them. He will never allow anything into our lives we cannot handle when He is our guide and stay, our refuge and strength!
The Amplified Bible gives us a deep understanding …”For no temptation (no trial regarded as enticing to sin [sin that which separates us from God]), [no matter how it comes or where it leads] has overtaken you and laid hold on you that is not common to man [that is, no temptation or trial has come to you that is beyond human resistance and that is not adjusted and adapted and belonging to human experience, and such as man can bear].
But God is faithful [to His Word and to His compassionate nature], and He [can be trusted] not to let you be tempted and tried and assayed beyond your ability and strength of resistance and power to endure, but with the temptation He will [always] also provide the way out (the means of escape to a landing place), that you may be capable and strong and powerful to bear up under it patiently.”
1 Corinthians 10:12-14
Now, just one more word about my lighthouse…she’s old, but she’s tough…and I pray that these very words can be true of all of us as we continue to grow in our walk with the Lord. It’s the storms of life that make us grow. It’s the relentless battering of wind and waves that develop the tenor and strength of our character. It’s the battle scars that mark our hearts that remind us we are never alone and walk in covenant with God. In Isaiah 43 God’s Word never says that we won’t get wet or be burned – but it does remind us, He will be with us – especially at these times!
"You are the light of the world.” Matthew 5:14a
As disciples of Jesus Christ, I pray that each of us will be houses of light of hope to our world no matter where life finds us. I pray the words we speak will be words of hope and love, peace and encouragement…that as we encounter others, they will feel valued and loved…that as the circumstances of life beat against us, we will respond with faith and forgiveness. And for us older lighthouses, let God keep shining through you into all the darkness of this world, for “some poor fainting, struggling seaman, you may rescue, you may save.”
“Brightly beams our Father’s mercy from His lighthouse evermore;
But to us, He gives the keeping of the lights along the shore.
"Trim you feeble lamp my brother! Some poor seaman tempest-tossed, trying now to make the harbor, in the darkness may be lost.
"Let the lower lights be burning! Send a gleam across the wave!
Some poor fainting, struggling seaman you may rescue, you may save.”
Hymn by P. Bliss
From my heart to yours . . .Kay!
From my heart to yours . . .
Are We There Yet?
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.
Those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the sinful nature
with its passions and desires.
Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit.”
Galatians 5:22-25
Years ago, in a “Family Circus” cartoon, the artist had drawn a picture that showed the family car being backed out of the driveway by an obviously highly-frustrated dad. The car is bulging with all kinds of vacation gear. The mom has the “deer in the headlights” look of someone in shock who feels totally overwhelmed at the prospect of the family “vacation”. The children, on the other hand, are as excited as can be, evidently jumping up and down for joy over the trip. The caption read, “Daddy, are we there yet?”
Isn’t it interesting the things we choose to remember over the years? …the many kinds of memories or phrases imprinted in our minds – a line from a song, or a favorite saying or expression that “pops” into our mind as we go through the course of a given day.
This particular cartoon and caption have been favorites of mine for a long time. I tend to think of it when I’m bogged down with too much to do, and too little time in which to do it! This last week was a perfect example of how remembering this phrase helped me make it through a really difficult week as we moved from one parsonage to another.
God bless Lucy Harvell! She had come over early Monday morning to help me and accomplished miracles with all that had to be packed! Before she arrived, I was deep into heavy-duty grumbling and complaining – so totally frustrated at all that had to be done – and was wallowing in a sea of self-pity! But then, Lucy walked in with a smile like sunshine, radiating the fruit of the Holy Spirit within her -- love and joy. Her boundless energy and “git-r-done” drive made everything move along soooooooo much better! She so inspired and lifted me with her joy, that even after she left that afternoon, I was able to keep the pace going . . . until later on that evening, that is.
By then, and once again, I was totally frustrated and worn out from all that needed to be done. Whether I was wrestling with putting boxes together, or trying to pack like things together (hard to do when one has so little time to pack), or trying to keep a clear pathway through the stacks of heavy boxes so no one would trip, this phrase, “are we there yet” crawled out of the deep, dark recesses of my “leettle gray cells” (as Hercule Poirot would say), and I began laughing as I applied it to whatever I was in the midst of at any time…I was getting more and more tired and desperate – so it was either laugh or cry, and I knew I would only make things worse if I allowed myself to get more down.
I realized the more I would say to myself, “Are we there yet?” the better I felt. My spirits would lift. I would laugh to myself and begin to remember other things that brought a smile to my heart. Laughing made me stronger. Laughing made the seemingly impossible and unbearable more possible and bearable.
Choosing how we will confront and deal the frustrations of our lives is ultimately up to us. Things people do and say will hurt us or “impossible” circumstances can and do make us angry from time to time, but it we who must make the choice of how we will respond to them and how long we will choose to stay angry or hurt.. Circumstances can and will pile up against us – that’s life -- but it is up to you and I to decide how we will tackle them … positively or negatively. God’s way or our way. Laugh or cry!
Another phrase many of us often use is “under the circumstances”. Life is unfair. Hello. God knows this. One of the reasons He gives us the indwelling of the Holy Spirit is to help us through such frustrations, both small and large, of this life. How different would our lives be if we made intentional efforts to live “above” the circumstances instead of “under” the circumstances? How much further would we be on our spiritual journeys if we chose to live above the troubles of this life by God’s grace rather than allowing life’s difficulties to trouble our hearts and hold us back from growing more and more into His image?
These verses from Galatians 5 assure us that indeed, we can live above the troubles of life that threaten to bring us down. The wonderful fruits of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control are ours when we allow God’s Holy Spirit to really settle down into us and make His home within us. Then, whenever life throws us a curve ball, we have access to the wonderful fruit of the Holy Spirit to help us through whatever has come our way.
To put it another way, if, “when Momma ain’t happy, ain’t noooooooooooobody happy!” is true, then how about the reverse? …“when momma’s happy, evvvvverybody’s happy!”
And so, Beloved, “Are we there yet?” John Wesley spoke of our spiritual journey as “going on toward perfection -- King James’ English for spiritual maturity”. How we make our journey is up to us. God has promised to give us every gift, grace, piece of wisdom and pathway we need to make our journeys complete in Him when we walk through our journeys in His Spirit.
Are we there yet? Probably not.
But in the name of Jesus, and by the grace of God, we’re getting there!
From my heart to yours . . .Kay!
From my heart to yours . . .
“The Stages of Our Lives”
Then Peter stood up with the Eleven, raised his voice and addressed the crowd:
“Fellow Jews and all of you who live in Jerusalem,
let me explain this to you; listen carefully to what I say…” Acts 2:14
Peter. Stage 1. When we think of Peter’s career as a fisherman, we’re not surprised that he had a few rough edges. In his day, fishing was hard, tedious, monotonous, back-breaking work done primarily on the night shift. The days were so hot that the fish would settle to the bottom of the Galilee during the day, then come up to the surface at night to feed – consequently night fishing was mandatory most of the year. After they returned to shore and separated the good catch from the little serpent-like fish that shared the Galilean waters, they took the fish to be sold at market. Then, they had to hang their nets to dry out in the hot sun and mend the ripped, knotted ropes to ensure strong nets for the next night of fishing. They broke this routine only to celebrate Shabbat (the Sabbath) – their only day of real rest. No vacation time back in those days for fishermen – only the weekly Sabbath could offer them a day and night of rest and relaxation. So yes, Peter had to be tough and rough to endure and succeed as a fisherman, yet he was not living the life God had planned for him – there was sooooo much more – IF Peter sought Him.
Peter. Stage 2. Peter’s life could have gone on like this for all of his days – but then he met Jesus, and remarkably, decided to follow this stranger from Nazareth, drawn to Him so strongly that leaving his family and his thriving fishing business seemed the right, if unusual, thing to do. Peter joined this tiny group of people and for the next three years, was by the side of Jesus 24/7. A pride-filled, bold, self-willed, gregarious, outspoken, occasionally rude, frequently arrogant, bossy, adventurous know-it-all. It was PETER’S WAY – or no way. Impulsive! Quick to plunge ahead, act without thinking – why the man even jumped out of the boat in the middle of a fierce storm, thinking he could walk on the water! A big mouth who was unafraid to call Jesus, the Son of God – and yet, the same big mouth who denied he even knew Jesus when the going got rough. He was with Jesus, yet he was still held captive by his pride, his lusts for power and selfish desires.
Peter. Stage 3. The events of that last week with Jesus proved to be some of the best and worst in Peter’s life. Jesus had told him he was in for the struggle of his life – a fight like he had never fought before, nor would ever fight again – a fight that God would use to purge every ounce of pride from Peter’s soul. (Luke 22: 31,32)
Throughout those darkest days, Peter allowed the Spirit of God to strip every ounce of pride from his mind, his will, and his heart, and repented and wept in ultimate surrender before God, receiving the forgiveness he so desperately wanted and needed. The words of Jesus in Luke suggest that Peter would indeed return to strengthen his fellow believers – but this time, not merely by his words, but by living the example of profound surrender and submission to the will of God, he would inspire and encourage his fellow believers.
But Peter’s story does not end here! For on the day of Pentecost – a Feast day created by God for His people to remember the giving of the Law to Moses at Mt. Sinai.-- God once again reaches from heaven and gives to His people the gift of the indwelling Holy Spirit that touches them with flames of fire in the midst of a mighty wind – and bestows upon them and within each of them the Power of God that will enable them to be all they will need to be to be the church of Jesus, the Christ, Yeshua HaMasiach, as they proclaim the Gospel story that is still being heard this very day. “Foot-In-Mouth Peter”, filled with the power of God, preached his first sermon EVER, and 3,000 people came to Jesus!
You see, there was NO WAY Peter could become the man God had planned for Peter to be…NO WAY Peter could become one of the main leaders of the infant Church…NO WAY all those negatives in Peter’s life could be turned into positives, unless he walked through the darkest days of his life, and allowed himself to be humbled before the Lord, receiving God’s forgiveness, grace, and mercy.
But Peter persevered! Throughout those darkest of days, he allowed the Spirit of God to strip every ounce of pride from his mind, his self-will, and his heart, and repented and wept in ultimate surrender before God, receiving the forgiveness he so desperately wanted and needed. Then, at this point, he took that crucial next step by returning to his brothers and sisters in Christ, and humbling himself before them and the Lord – Peter strengthened them with his new-found grace and mercy!
Beloved, where do we find ourselves in our spiritual journey this day?
* Are we just so busy with living that we have no real time for God?
* Are we coasting on spiritual fumes, barely addressing the spiritual needs of our lives
– taking little or no time to read the Bible, pray, or come to worship
-- content to spend our time and resources on whatever we’re looking for in the world
– content with the “false glamour and deceitful riches” the world offers us
– letting others pray for us, letting others do our thinking for us,
thinking that we’ll get closer to God one of these days…?
* Are we “making do” by running to God when we’re in trouble,
then as our needs are met, going back to the same old, same old, day-in, day out?
* Are we in the middle of some of our darkest days?
* Or, are we hungry for more and more of God,
seeking His face and His will for our lives,
taking advantage of moment we have to spend in His presence
feeding on His Word, fervent in prayer, faithful in worship?
The good news is that God has not given up on us – He never will!
But should we deceive ourselves, be content as we coast through life,
and risk letting time run out on us?
(When your time of captivity is completed) “I will come to you
and fulfill my promise to bring you back to this place” (the Promised Land),
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord,
“plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a (true) hope and future.
Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.
You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.
I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity.”
Jeremiah 29:10-13, NIV (parenthetical notes, mine)
From my heart to yours . . .Kay!
From my heart to yours . . .
“Waiting: One of the Most Difficult Aspects of Discipleship”
"And while being in their company and eating with them, He commanded them not to leave Jerusalem but to wait for what the Father had promised, Of which [He said] you have heard Me speak. For John baptized with water, but not many days from now you shall be baptized with the Holy Spirit." Acts 1:4,5 The Amplified Bible
We 21ST Century people are not into waiting, are we?….and yet, we spend countless minutes each day just going through our daily routines at home and work…waiting to check out in the grocery line, waiting to speak to a real live person on the phone or leave a message, waiting for people who are late to meetings, going through the loops as we navigate computer programs and surf the web, waiting on lengthy red light changes at busy intersections, waiting on our doctors to finally see us, waiting for test results, waiting on (I’ll let you fill in the blank here)!
Waiting, waiting, and more waiting. Countless minutes that can, far more quickly than we realize, add up over the months and years. There is as particularly large, busy intersection in our area that I have to travel through frequently to run errands and go visit in our people. During the height of rush hour it can be a mini-nightmare to cross. Each of the light changes takes five minutes to change from red to green. One afternoon, I waited through FOUR of these changes to cross the intersection. Twenty minutes spent trying to get through a single intersection!
And yet, our modern understanding of “wait” – as in “expecting an event” is not a complete understanding of the Hebrew sense of the word, but is only a part of what this tiny, but important word means for believers.
While we know our English translation of the New Testament was translated from the Greek, there is a fascinating, growing body of evidence being developed by David Biven and other contemporary Bible scholars that indicate the Gospels and Acts may well have been written originally in Hebrew – then translated into Greek as the gospels spread throughout the Mediterranean world by Paul and others during the first several centuries of the Church. At the very least, even if written originally in Greek, as most earlier historical research assumes these days, it was undeniably written by Jewish writers who may have written in the Greek language – but from a Hebrew linguistic perspective of their “mother-tongue”. So for these reasons, I looked in the Gesenius’ Lexicon of the Hebrew language to check for a better understanding of “wait”.
I first studied the word “wait” years ago when the Holy Spirit directed me to become focused – immersed, if you will -- on the study of the Old Testament as the Hebraic roots of the New Testament and Christianity. During this particular word study I went to the book of Isaiah to look at one of the best known Old Testament scriptures that speaks about “they that wait upon the Lord”… Isaiah 40:31.
But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.
“Wait” in Hebrew is the word, qavah (pronounced kah vah’, using the short vowel sound for “a”). And, as one might expect, one of the meanings does indicate a sense of lingering and waiting for expected event to occur. Yet, the other meaning of the word wait means, “to collect, bind together, to be strong, robust, for the notion of ‘binding fast’ or tightly about”—like a wild vine wrapped within the links on a chain-link fence.
With this in mind, Jesus is telling His disciples to remain in Jerusalem, waiting – not merely in anticipation – but intentionally binding themselves to Him and together as the body of Christ, meeting and eating together, spending their time each day in prayer and studying the Scriptures together – to prepare their hearts and minds for the soon coming baptism of the Holy Spirit by which they will be filled with a Holy Power from heaven.
The task they have lying ahead of them is overwhelming and enormous at the very least. Their lives will be forever changed. They willingly, out of their love and devotion to Jesus Christ will face incredible hardships, beatings, starvation, imprisonment, rejection and persecution – and all of them, except for John, will endure horrific suffering as they die painful deaths as martyrs because they refuse to deny Christ and keep preaching the Word no matter what the cost!
Knowing and understanding all of this is an humbling experience – especially when I realize how little it takes to get me upset, frustrated, and full of self-pity as I go about my daily tasks. Who am I to complain about anything?
If we were to emulate these stalwart early disciples and “wait” – prioritize and intentionally carve out the BETTER PART of our days (not just the “left-over minutes”) to study, pray and sit at the feet of Jesus … what changes might happen? How would our lives change for the better? How much more strength would we have to confront the stress and chaos of each day? How would the witness of our lives change for the better? How much more of the peace of Christ would truly live in our hearts and guide us into the wisdom of God in making daily decisions? How much more of the love of Christ would we have to give to others?
The scriptures say we will be know as the people of Christ by our love. What does our love say about us as believers, as Easter People at this very moment -- today? Are we willing to wait in His presence to be more of who He calls us to be? By the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit who lives within each believer, I pray that we will gain a whole new perspective on “waiting”, and seek His face with greater fervor and passion each and every day.
From my heart to yours . . .Kay!
From my heart to yours…
“Eternal life, God’s Gift of Easter”
"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, NIV
I hesitate to write this story – for the first part of it tells of one of the greatest tragedies in all my life – one in which I stood helplessly by and watched someone I loved more than life itself make her final journey home to the Lord. A little five-year-old girl. Who suffered untold pain and agony. A beautiful blond, blue-eyed, full-of-JOY little girl who met each day with incredible enthusiasm, and an uncommon strength of will to fight the overwhelming odds in her life! So please stay with me…as I write this story and lift it up unto the Lord as a testimony of His measureless love for you and me.
Kathy was born to a wealthy, prestigious family – the youngest of three siblings. Her father and mother were the ideal couple – honor grads…he, the consummate football hero quarterback of a leading university; she, the most-likely-to-succeed, most beautiful head cheerleader at the same university. But here’s where the story takes a tragic, terrible turn.
Kathy was born years after her older brother and sister – “a caboose”, a “mistake”. She was diagnosed as a “failure to thrive infant” immediately at birth. She was quickly transferred to a special nursing home where she was attended by doctors, nurses and aides – no family.
Fast forward three years. The father takes a huge promotion with a major American business and the family transfers to Texas and they decide to take Kathy from the home to put her in a new home in Texas. The mom enrolls her older brother and sister in a school where an Early Childhood class is offered for all young developmentally delayed children. My class. My students. Kathy is three years old chronologically…but 12 months old developmentally. Just learning to walk. In diapers. Still bottle-fed. Cannot talk. Unresponsive – sits and stares, does not interact with me, or any of the other students, or even her family.
“Dear God,” I pray, “What do we do? Where do we begin? Oh, God, I need you. Please, show me what to do.” I pray – and God hears. God hears and He answers, “Just love her like you would your own baby. She needs a mother’s love.”
No fireworks, no bells, no whistles. No tricks. No advanced degrees or teacher training. No grand schemes, no well-developed curriculum, no complicated lesson plans. Just a simple mother’s love.
That’s all I ever did for her – but oh, what she did for me! Every single day, for 12 months a year, for the next 2 years, God met me face to face each time Kathy walked into my room! Through Kathy I learned a depth of love I never ever knew was possible.
One Thanksgiving, we had the typical preschool/kindergarten dress-up Thanksgiving Feast where the children cooked the meal! That was the year that I asked Brian, one of my other little darlings to please wash the potatoes for our stew. And he did. Complete with soap and water!
We had planted “sweet potatoes” in jars of water as gifts for their families. Everyone’s potato was flourishing except Kathy’s! It didn’t’ even have a single tiny root! Kathy was frustrated and cried when she checked the barren potato each day. Everyone took their potato home with them that day except Kathy. (we made another gift for her parents!).
We had chocolate cake just before school dismissed that afternoon for the holidays. All my babies (and I, as well!) – but especially Kathy – got far more one her than in her. We laughed and laughed. I kissed them all “good-bye” and went home to enjoy my family.
That Sunday after church, my principal called, “Had I heard about Kathy?” “No.” “There’s been a terrible accident,” she continued. “They were all involved in a head-on collision just outside of Hot Springs, Arkansas. The parents burned to death upon the impact. Kathy’s brother and sister are okay – they were belted in, and got out in time to pull Kathy out of the burning car. Kathy was not belted in. She was thrown from the back seat to the front seat and has suffered severe brain damage. She’s dying.”
I honestly do not remember what I said or did next, but mere minutes later, I was on my to see Kathy who was lying in the ICU ward at the St. Joseph's Catholic Hospital in Hot Springs. When I walked in and spoke her name – she tried to rally from her coma. That tiny little girl, with a head swollen 3 times it’s normal size, lying in an adult-size bed. The medical staff encouraged me to stay by her side and keep speaking to her to hopefully help wake her from her coma. Her grandparents came and got her brother and sister, and then left within minutes to go back to Georgia without even saying “good-bye” to her. I called a lawyer and began the process to adopt Kathy that same day.
One evening, about 10 days later, I sitting up in the bed with her, holding her and rocking her in my arms, singing her favorite songs when suddenly, she suffered a major stroke. I watched as the medical staff tried desperately to save her. She survived, but now there was no hope for her. A heat beat, but no evidence of any brain activity at all.
I remember standing at the foot of the bed, pleading with God to let her live so I could take her home with me. “Dear God, she deserves to live. She’s never hurt anyone in her whole life! She’s loved everyone! She deserves to live – not me! I’ve been so mean and hurt so many people! Take me instead! Please, God! Let me die and let Kathy live!”
At that moment, a strong, but inaudible voice arose in my spirit and said, “Now you know how much I love you! My own Son died for Kathy and for you, and all who believe in Me.” Eternal life. Paid for on a cross by the only One who never sinned, Perfect Love, God’s Word made Flesh.
Kathy died two weeks or so later. The call came from the hospital at 4 am that Friday morning. The same day we were dismissing for the Christmas holidays. I trembled and sobbed and could not speak for 3 days. I could not bear going back into the school yet.
In January, I entered our classroom to clean and prepare it for my students. When I walked in, my eyes looked out the window that faced the school playground – Kathy’s favorite place in the whole school!
Kathy’s potato was still there on the window sill -- in it’s jelly-jar vase. But now! It was covered in beautiful vines, thriving here on earth as I knew Kathy was thriving in the presence of Our Lord, standing by her parents. I cried and smiled and laughed all at the same time, for I knew that someday, I too will stand by her side, in the presence of Our Risen Lord, Jesus Christ who died and rose again so that you and I can have eternal life.
From my heart to yours… Kay!
From My Heart to Yours . . .
“Free, at Last! An Easter Story!”
“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” John 8:36
One of the most interesting people I ever met was Father Lawrence Jenko. Sound familiar? Along with Terry Anderson, an American journalist, and others he was captured and tortured for over a year by the Hezbollah in Lebanon in 1985. Jenko lived in Lebanon where he had been directing a Catholic Charity Organization mission effort. After he returned to the United States, I invited Father Jenko to come and speak to our students at Our Lady of Fatima School while he was in Texas City preaching as part of the Mission Week Emphasis at St. Mary’s Church.
The length of captivity had taken its toll on Father Jenko. His slight body was bent over because he had spent so much of his captivity locked in cells or closets too small for him to stand, or even stretch out his legs when he lay on the floor. Weakened by the confinement, by the rounds of torture he endured, and tremendous sleep deprivation, he spoke in a voice that was barely above a whisper. And yet, I never met anyone that glowed with such a look of peace and joy as did he. His eyes sparkled, revealing a spirit that, although once badly beaten and deprived, had refused to give in. I had invited Father Jenko to Fatima School in Texas City to speak to our students. All of us listened in awe as he told his story…
As captives, they were moved from place to place frequently. They would be wrapped like mummies and tied to the bottom of the frames of cars or trucks, to be transported during the darkness of night. In fact, the captives would go months at a time without seeing the sun or being allowed out inside the house during daylight hours. Having been denied access to a Bible, to grow his faith and give him hope, Father Jenko relied on his memory bank of Bible verses his mother had insisted he learn as a child. He thought much about sharing in the suffering of Christ and the Cross, but focused even more so on the power of Jesus’ Resurrection.
He recalled his last closet of imprisonment as he spoke to us that day. Once again, it was far too small to stretch out his body so he lay in a fetal position in total darkness. But this night was different, somehow…
He felt unusually tired and weak. He had finally come to a point where he felt he had done all he could to remain faithful, but just before giving in to the doubts and fears that were tormenting him push him to admit defeat and give up, He breathed one more prayer and asked for God to give Him a sign of hope -- a sign that someday, somehow, all would be well.
After hours of prayer in which he fought the fears that were welling up inside of him, he dozed off into a fitful sleep. When he awoke, he noticed that a tiny sliver of a crack in the wall allowed a glimmer of light into his closet long enough for Father Jenko to see God’s answer to his prayer. The light showed him that the walls were covered in layers of dust. As he thanked God for the brief moments of light, he noticed that someone had drawn something with their finger on the dust-covered wall – it was a CROSS! Father Jenko rejoiced as he thanked God for showing him this sign of mercy and grace! Of what God had done for him. Some poor soul, (God only knows how long ago) in similar circumstances had drawn that cross on the dust-covered wall to encourage himself, and now, it was lifting the heart of another man of God.
In the midst of praising God as the moments of daylight were fading from his tiny closet, a guard came and jerked Father Jenko into a darkened room. While the guards always wore masks, Father recognized the eyes of a guard who had befriended him during his captivity. He began wrapping Jenko as a mummy once again, and told him that this was to be his last day alive. He was to be taken out into the desert, dumped where his body could not be found, and left there to die. As the guard told of his impending fate, he also did something most unusual. Without saying a word, he slipped a small metal cross into Jenko’s right hand as he wrapped it tightly against his body.
Jenko was carried out to car and tied to the bottom of it as usual. He could not tell how long they had driven – he only knew it had been a much longer journey than usual. The car stopped. The guards got him from under the car and pushed him over the edge of a sharp embankment. Jenko felt his body rolling faster and faster down the rocky terrain, as he heard the car speeding away. He landed with a thud against some large rocks, and listened to the silence that surrounded him.
Clinging to the cross, he slowly, but surely, began to use the metal edges of the very cross the guard had forced into his hand to slice away at the bandages that held him captive. He does not know how long it took – only that it seemed to take hours before he could get enough of his hand and arm free to remove the rest of his wrappings. He opened his eyes to see the first sunlight he had seen in months.
As his eyes adjusted to the glare, he managed to climb up to the top of the embankment. As he was standing there, praising God for his release, a car driven by some Lebanese Christians “just happened” to come by. They took Father Jenko to the nearest safe place where he could begin his journey back home to America. As they bid him good-bye, they told him they had noticed him on the side of the road as they were on the way to worship because. . .
it was Easter Sunday!!!
Beloved, what is it that binds and cripples our hearts and spirits today? Fear? Rejection? Failures? Bitterness? Jealousy? Loss? Pain? To live without hope, without the joy and peace of Our Lord, without believing that God really does hear us and cares for us is a horrible way to spend what precious moments we have on this earth! These are fetters that bind and cripple human hearts and spirits, and lead to spiritual, and possibly even physical death.
Father Jenko’s story shows us that even in the worst of times, when we dare to believe and carry His word in our hearts, we will be able to endure whatever we must. It tells us that when he felt weakest, God was strongest. When he felt like giving up, God said, “Don’t quit”!
When I look at all this precious man of God endured and yet remained faithful, I am encouraged that I, too, with God’s help, can remain faithful, especially since my cares and concerns pale in comparison to what Father Lawrence Jenko suffered and endured. When I remember Jesus in Gethsemane and on the cross of Calvary, and see Him as the Risen Lord of the Resurrection, I am persuaded that nothing is able to separate me from the His Eternal Love! Rejoice, Beloved! We are saved by the Cross of Jesus!
HE IS RISEN! HALLELUJAH!
From My Heart to Yours . . .
Kay!
From My Heart to Yours…
The Laver: “God’s Wash Basin”
A Lenten Meditation
“And he made the laver of brass, and the foot of it of brass, of the lookingglasses of the women assembling, which assembled at the door of the tabernacle of the congregation.” Exodus 38:8
One of the first places I journeyed to in Israel this last August was a place way out in the “middle of nowhere” – a deserted place on the side of a mountain, where there’s not much there but tall grasses, thistles, one or two trees, and rocks, and rocks, and more rocks. As we drove to the spot there was one small “cabin” and a modest larger cabin further back up the hill, farther away from the dirt road we were traveling. I could not help but wonder why my friend Avi had brought us out to such a desolate, seemingly unimportant place…out of all of Israel. “Were there not many more important places we should be going?” I wondered to myself.
We got out of the car, climbed over some larger rocks and walked on the mountain side where there was no path, the dried-out thistles scratching our arms and legs and pulling on our clothing. Avi asked us to stop and look around where we were standing. Then he asked us to sit on the larger rocks, and pulled out his Bible and began to teach from his heart the story of the place where we were.
He read from Exodus where God was telling Moses how to build the Tabernacle – the Tent of God’s Dwelling – "Emmanuel" – God with us. Then he continued on with more scriptures and finally said, that after the children of Israel had crossed into the Promised Land they traveled through the land of Israel, they fought their battles and defeated their enemies, as God had told them they would. The most important thing they carried with them was not their food, not their family’s tents, not their animals, nor their weapons. The most important thing they carried with them was the Tabernacle that would be put together exactly as God had instructed Moses many years before, so that the people would have a place to meet with God. The Tabernacle of the Wilderness and all its furnishings are a picture of Jesus, Savior and Lord for you and I as Christians.
One came to the Tabernacle to make sacrifices in atonement for their sins. As Christians, our first step to relationship with God is to confess our sins and receive forgiveness by the Blood of the Lamb, as we declare our faith in God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. No one – not even a priest – could take any more steps forward into the Outer Court of the Tabernacle until they had blood shed in forgiveness for their sins. At this altar, one’s sins were justified on the basis of the shed blood.
Salvation begins at the cross – but it certainly does not end there. John Wesley taught that while salvation was a life-changing moment in time, believers then entered a process he called sanctification – a lifelong process of building one’s faith and relationship with God as they allowed the experiences of this life to grow them into spiritual maturity and more like the image of Christ. After the blood was shed on the Brazen Altar, one proceeded to the Laver, a huge wash basin, mounted on an attached pedestal that stood in the Outer Court of the Tabernacle. It was made of brass, and was kept filled with clean water. Its function was the washing of the hands and feet of the priests, continually, as they ministered in the Tabernacle service and worship. At this Laver, those who served the Lord were to be repeatedly cleansed from the defilement of the world, day by day, hour by hour. The Laver then speaks of the sanctifying power of the Word of the living God.
Made of solid brass and filled with pure water, we learn this: water is symbolic of the Word of God, and brass in the Bible is symbolic of the judgment of God – being able to withstand the fires of being tested. So even the sins committed after one’s regeneration are provided for completely…separation from the world, and cleansing by the Word of God. Self-judgment. Yielding to God for His service alone.
Mirrors in those days were made of highly polished brass. This particular laver was made from the looking glasses of the women of Israel which they had brought out of Egypt with them on the Passover night. Mirrors. Used to see one’s natural features.
Looking glasses were for the glorification of the flesh, and the gratification of one’s old nature. Symbols of human pride and vanity. The Laver in the Tabernacle then, speaks of separation from the flesh and the world, from the old nature with its pride and lusts, habits and sins. After a person is saved, he must next be separated before he can go on to be of service in the Tabernacle, or to put this in more modern terms, to be of service to God wherever He has put us in this world.
We are not only “regenerated by the washing of the water of the Word”, but we are also “kept” clean by out constant recourse to the Word, by continual confession of our sins, by a willing surrender of all those things which belong to our old nature and by a joyful, willing submission of all we are and have to Him.
The season of Lent can be a Laver for those who seek greater intimacy with God -- deeper understanding of His Word, and greater insight into His will for our lives. Beloved, do not let this season of Lent be diminished and cheapened by the Mardi-Gras-Fat Tuesday lusts and distractions of this life. Rather, let this be a season like no other – one of prayer, fasting, meditation in the Word of God, and worship – not just at church services, but daily, private devotions of praise and thanksgiving to God who will never leave you nor forsake you. Let the Lenten Laver of God’s Washing of the Word cleanse and purify your hearts as never before.
My heart pounded as I looked out across the mountain side and valley below us. I was standing on Holy Ground. Overwhelmed by the holiness of this place and these moments, I could not even speak for hours. All I could do was praise Him in my heart, with all my heart, for these moments with Him in His land, at the site of where the Tabernacle once stood.
From my heart to yours, Kay
From My Heart to Yours…
ONE OF MY MOST MEMORABLE CHRISTMASES...
EVER!
Do you have a special Christmas story?
– Something so special that those moments are etched into your hearts as well as your minds... forever???
As a child, and later a parent of young children, I considered myself to be well-steeped in both the Biblical story of Christmas and loved the traditions we practiced at home with our family. I would have never guessed that there was a far deeper way to remember Christmas – for I had never experienced what I was about to happen!
A number of years ago, we adopted two young girls, ages three and five from the Texas Department of Child Protective Services. They had spent all of their young years locked away from neighbors and other family members in a tiny shack of a home near Paris, Texas. The police were called when one of the neighbors finally had the courage to report the terrible screams they heard coming from inside the house. The youngest little girl, Linda was nearly dead when they found her, and her older sister, Theresa was close to death as well. They had never known anything but the most horrific abuse – even in their adoptive homes – so when they came to live with us, it was as if they were entering a whole new world. They came to us with nothing but the clothes they had on their backs and two little purses our state case worker had given them. And at no time was their former poverty more evident than the night we decorated our Christmas tree – the first Christmas tree they had even seen! Their First Christmas. Ever. Period.
We always had a fresh tree – sometimes one we cut down ourselves. After we would bring the tree inside, we would put on the strings the lights, and then hang as many ornaments (many of them handmade by our children) as our little tree could hold! When we determined there was no longer a single square inch left open on the tree, we would turn out all the lights in the house and plug in the lights on the tree. It was always a momentous event, with cries of ooohs and aaahs and joy coming from each of us – child and parent alike.
But this time, it was sooooooo different. Knowing this was their very first Christmas, we were all looking at the girls as we plugged in the lights. The beautiful colors of the bulbs danced on the walls, while our precious daughters took huge gasps of breath, stood speechless at first, and then let out tremendous screams of joy! They danced up and down clapping their little hands together, and left two little puddles on the floor while they danced for joy! (That was one potty accident I never minded cleaning!)
We all laughed for joy until we ached, and sat wrapped up in each others’ arms as we stared at the beauty of our tree for the rest of the night. Both of the girls fell to sleep on the sofa – refusing to leave “their tree”, and had to be carried to bed that night.
Christmas has never been the same for me since that night. We, who thought we had so little, shared our lives, our home, and our love with two little girls who had only their first names when they came to us. On one occasion later on, one of the neighborhood children asked Linda when her birthday was. She looked at me, and without hesitating while pointing to our front door said, “I was born the day I walked through that door!” My heart skipped a beat or two as I dissolved into tears of thanksgiving to God for giving us the opportunity to love these babies and welcome them into our home.
(God gives us) beauty for ashes,
the oil of joy for mourning,
the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;
that they (or we) might be called trees of righteousness,
the planting of the LORD, that he might be glorified.
Isaiah 61:3 NIV, emphases, mine
From my heart to yours, Kay
From my heart to yours . . .
AMERICAN IDOL: Materialism
“Sleigh Bells Ring, Bling! Bling!
Ka-Ching! Ka-Ching!”
The Devotional for the month of December, 2007
Romans 12:2a The Phillips Translation
“Don’t let the world around you squeeze you into its own mold…”
From Matthew 6 The Phillips Translation
“Don’t pile up treasures on earth, where moth and rust can spoil them and thieves can break in and steal. But keep your treasure in heaven where there is neither moth nor rust to spoil it and nobody can break in and steal. For wherever your treasure is, you may be certain that your heart is there too!
ONLY ____ MORE SHOPPING DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS!
OH, MY!
The focus for today’s message is on Christmas and WHO, WHAT, and HOW we celebrate during this holy season. Among all of our present day cultures, it appears that no one culture can take a holiday and make it a “stupendous mega event” quite like we Americans do -- so much so, in fact, that our two most holy seasons, Christmas and Easter, have been remolded into events that have become shopping frenzies in our quest for more and more material things. Sadly, many people – including those who call themselves Christians -- have taken these holy days, and turned them into mere secular “holidays.”
An issue of The Methodist Reporter once carried a major length article that was entitled:
Affluenza: America’s Greatest Disease.
With this in mind, and as Americans in general, what are some ways that we as a society have let the world around us “squeeze us into its own mold?” -- in changing our personal moral values, in succumbing to societal pressures for climbing the ladder and keeping up with the Joneses, and attempting to gratify our unquenchable thirst for things?
What will we as individuals or families be spending on Christmas this year?
What does the typical child's Christmas list look like these days?
Does our present-day concept of “love” now mean “giving me what I want, when I want it, without restraint?”
As Christians living in the most affluent society in the world, how would we answer all these questions? Has the Christian response to these questions changed over the past 2-3-4 generations? If so, in what ways? How can we still celebrate Christmas and keep Christ in the center of all our celebrating -- parties and gift giving and holiday schedules and preparations? -- be specific and list practical ways we can simplify and honor Christ in each of these areas.
What are some ways people can distinguish true necessities from other items?
Should it be a concern that today, many young couples begin their lives together with many conveniences and luxury items that their parents and grandparents may have had to work for most of their adult lives to acquire (if they ever did manage to get them)? And even more problematically, how many today (of all ages) fill their lives with things at the cost of accumulating thousands of dollars in debts to get what they want, when they want it?
What does today’s scripture lesson have to say about accumulating things that are only temporal at best? How much more time and money do we spend taking care of our physical bodies and the other temporal things in our lives as compared to what we spend taking care of the spiritual and eternal aspects of our lives?
S0....WHAT ARE SOME WAYS WE CAN WE KEEP CHRIST
IN THE CENTER OF OUR CHRISTMAS?
RE-EXAMINE our present Christmas plans in light of the scriptures
and make adjustments and new plans...
the keep It Simple Stupid Principle - SIMPLIFY!
INTENTIONALLY schedule times for scripture and prayer
in both personal and family devotionsal times . . . DAILY!
HELP our families (and maybe ourselves too!),
and most especially, our children,
learn how to better distinguish needs from wants.
CONSIDER new ways of giving that would help make our world a better place...
* by making a gift to a charity or ministry "in memory" of a beloved family member
or "in honor" of someone the person to whom you are giving loves...
* by keeping track of what we spend on Christmas
and matching that amount with gifts to ministries.
HONOR the Sabbath day by being faithful in worship
and by refusing to succumb to the temptation
of using the Sabbath as just another day to shop.
“The place where your treasure is,
is the place you will most want to be, and end up being”… The Message
So, Beloved, have a blessed and merry Christ-centered Christmas!
From my heart to yours, Kay!
From my heart to yours . . .
“The Kitchen Table”
The Devotional for the month of November, 2007
(WHEN) THE LORD is my Shepherd to feed, guide, and shield me….
(THEN) You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
Psalm 23, NIV
David wrote the 23rd Psalm based on what he had learned as a shepherd. That’s why it speaks so strongly to us – it is all about living a real life in a real world, and why we get into trouble when we don’t listen to our shepherd, and how life is so much better when we do listen!
In the summers in Israel, the best grazing lands are those which are up on the mountaintops. The snows have melted, the rains have tapered off, and the sun turns the pasture land into rich feeding grounds for the sheep. A good shepherd will go ahead of his flock, check out the land and prepare it for his sheep. He’ll look for poisonous weeds and bring minerals and nutrients to enrich the soil to ensure greener, better pastures. He will be sure there is an ample source of fresh water for his flocks, and look for a safe place to build a sheepfold to protect his sheep from various predators that roam about – especially at night!
A good shepherd will take the time and do whatever he needs to do to prepare the best pasture land -- a table for his flock – a safe place to eat, relax, and enjoy being a family, unafraid even when enemies lurk in the shadows.
As I reflected on this verse – especially about how a good shepherd prepares the best, safest places to tend his flocks, I made a connection between this and the kitchen table my mom prepared for us each and every day. Our kitchen table was never a fancy table, never decorated with fancy linens or fine china and silver. But it was the center of life in our home where we came together as family day in, day out.
Having such limited counter space, the kitchen table became the place where food was prepared. Cake batters were stirred and cookies were rolled out and decorated. Southern cornbread dressing was made to stuff the turkeys. Watermelons were sliced. Homemade ice cream and fresh-baked apple pies came together on this table -- so refreshing on those hot, sweltering, Texas summer nights...served up fresh on the front porch as we children caught fire flies in a jar and daddy watered the grass – yum, yum -- life didn’t get much better than that!
The kitchen table was the center for all kinds of family activities. Homework was done. Patterns for sewing projects were cut out. School science projects were pasted together. Valentines were addressed to our classmates and friends. Paper dolls were cut out of Sears’ catalogs and home-made Christmas ornaments were cut out and sprinkled with glitter! Christmas packages were wrapped. Birthdays were celebrated. Home-made gifts were made and wrapped for giving. Vacations were planned. Secrets were shared. Lots of love! Lots of laughter!
We actually sat down as family and ate together! IMAGINE THAT!!! Nothing fancy – but oh, so good. A simple bowl of cereal, a peanut butter sandwich, or cups of coffee were all treats because they were served and shared together with love as we gathered together as family. For Friday night supper, mom always served simple foods like home-made soups and grilled cheese sandwiches -- family favorites devoured as we listened to “The Lone Ranger” and “Dick Tracy” over the radio.
Yes, the kitchen table was the most favorite place in our house – but the attraction was due to far more than food, and far more than being the center of family activities – it was quite simply, the best place in the whole house where we could be ourselves – we could relax, love and be loved, and feel safe within our family.
Sadly, over the years, it seems like so many of our families seem to have lost this part of being family. We’ve become so sophisticated, so overscheduled, so multi-tasked, and so technologically driven and distracted that we don’t always find time to sit down together, share the day, and share our love within the format of a simp | 
®
