Miracles

Some time ago I wrote a letter to a friend of mine, let me recount some of it to you.

My friend 's daughter had written an entry on "caring bridge" about her sick mother. Bravely, she approached the difficulty of praying for a miracle and yet showed us her fortitude to hold firmly onto her Savior for clarity no matter the outcome.

This exact struggle has plagued me for most of my life. When I was a boy my father lay dying, would my God answer my prayers and heal him? As a young father would I only be able to helplessly stand by while my son struggled to survive? When I got sick was my God powerful enough to reinstate my dreams and overpower my failures? Could I handle praying for a miracle and see nothing? If I prayed for a miracle and he didn't provide would He be less of a God? Because, you see, the worse option for me, by far, was not the "no miracle", it was the "less God."

It hasn't really been that long now since my perspective has changed. "No miracle", no longer has the possibility of "less God." Somewhere I came up with thinking miracles were mine. Miracles are not mine they belong to God. I am the recipient of His power. God is not more sometimes and less other times He is "all" all of the time. He never stops working on my behalf...His miracles are continuous! 

The reality, I feel, is that my involvement changes my perspective of each situation. God has allowed me to love deeply so my heart will burn for my desires, my answers and for results. I think He created me like this because He desires me to desire Him. However, because of these deep desires they often shadow God's workings. So, within moments what I had desired and prayed for has changed into something completely different. I am sure God is pleased with my desires and prayers but knows even I would not truly want Him to bring to life my confusion.

God can create situations to grow me. But I also believe God can use life as it happens and even Satan's conniving to help me grow. God has this incredible ability, that I can hardly understand, to work things out and make it good. 

So, though I have no idea what God has in store I am commanded to pray and ask, not only for His will, but for my God centered desires. God created us, I have no doubt He can fix us. I will not be ashamed to pray for just that...just like the daughter of my friend so bravely conveyed to us. She put it simply yet concise. She didn't talk herself out of it, her focus was sure:

"It's hard but I will continue to pray for miracles."

Laughter

Laughter

Often, when I was a kid, our family ate supper together. We brothers would usually tell some dumb jokes or wear some weird outfit and mom would get us all laughing with her uncontrollable giggling. Her laugh was insatiable, it would entice us to keep it coming, not to just put off doing the dishes but because the laughter seemed to clean out some of the toxic world.

Will there be laughter in Heaven? If so what will it be like? Of course there is that uncomfortable, awkward laughter we are sometimes forced into. But it seems that most laughter should come from something which is actually funny. Will it be self- deprecating? This hardly seems as if it would be part of Heaven's humor. Maybe pointing out something peculiar or idiosyncratic would lift our spirits. But wouldn't idiosyncrasies be classified as gifts in Heaven...not something goofy at all? There must be some types of jokes Jesus would tell. Do you think His sense of humor would be dry or roll back and howl funny? Surely there is laughter in Heaven. 

Our world is full of hurting, lonely and sick friends. There are uncomfortable decisions being created and acted upon within our society. We see too many odd situations developing within our political realm. The suffering we see around the world is epidemic. All this makes our hearts heavy...oh for a little laughter.

Kent, my buddy who passed away earlier this year, was a great joke teller not because of the jokes he told but because of how he told the joke. I can see him walking past Jesus on some golden side street, their eyes meet and Kent gives Jesus the "up nod"... " knock knock", and without flinching, Jesus, in all His omniscience, flashes a quick smile..."who's there." Neither of them would make it past the "who's there" because Kent would be in hysterics and although Jesus would already know the punch line His laughter would also be hysterical as he watched His created laughter be so perfectly exhibited through Kent.

Sure, in Heaven there will be everlasting joy. But what about here, what about now? Is laughter necessary? Although sometimes it's hard to come by I do believe it is important. There are healing qualities for the struggles we encounter keeping us healthy and capable for the work God has given.

Proverbs 17:22

A cheerful heart is good medicine,

 but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.

The more we let the bones dry the more susceptible we become to the taunts and testings of the evil ones. Don't give in. LOL 

Disease

                                   Disease

My Father was an incredible man.  He had an amazing drive and desire to serve his God, to the point some may have felt, it was overdone.  He was a diabetic and a researcher, so was often unconventional in his treatment and tried his own way to control the disease.  Often this meant he would end up with some kind of reaction.  The benefit of the malady was that he always had a bag of candy in the car.  However, most of my life these reactions meant cramming concentrated frozen orange juice into his system to regulate him.  Later on they created a syringe, loaded with the good stuff, that we had to inject into him.  When dad had these reactions, many opportunities erupted for angels to stay vigilant by keeping the house from burning down, watching over approaching vehicles and stalling out runaway tractors. 

One particular time Dad and Mom were in a back alley in Watertown, MN, right next to the river.  I must have gotten a text from God because somehow I tracked them down.  Now understand, Dad would either get wacky funny or angry during a reaction.  This time he was extraordinarily angry.  I kept running up to the car and he kept driving away.  My worry was he was so erratic that he may drive into the river.  I finally reached the car and turned it off and while I was wrestling the keys away, dad began swearing at me (he never swore) and punching me in the face.  As I wrestled to restrain my dad so mom could use the syringe I looked into his eyes and longed for my real father to come back.  Finally the medicine took hold...he came back.  He never really spoke to me about the event but I knew he felt awful.  Even though it wasn't who he really was it affected us both somehow.  I think it hurt the most because he felt so bad.

Sin is somewhat like this disease.  It comes over us unexpectedly and its effects somehow overtake us and drag us where we don't want to go.  It makes it seem a grand thing to take life over the cliff into the river.  Satan is really good at that and takes on the form that applies to us; a driver, a debater, a counselor, a thinker; the thing we would have considered a gift not a disease. 

Will I allow friends to restrain me so God can stab me with His Son and let the Holy Spirit drain into my life and bring back the me God wants to see?

 Psalm 43:3

Send forth your light and your truth,

let them guide me; let them

bring me to your holy mountain.

Often when I slip away from God I feel bad just as my father felt so many years ago.  But God offers hope.

Psalm 43:5

Why so downcast my soul?

Why so disturbed within me?

Put your hope in God

for I will yet praise Him

my Savior and my God.

Now these are not words from a weak willed blubbering Scandinavian.  These are words given to a powerful and mighty king who needed and received the same hope I do.

                                              

PIOSITY

As I glance back in time I uncover acquaintances helping me to maneuver through disasters that awaited me. I also see myself shying away not wanting to relegate these maneuverings as warnings from others but instead as a design bestowed upon myself as brilliance. It seems I become frustrated when people, friends or otherwise, dictate the hows and whys of my life; what I do or things I say. The approach of these situations should be my business and decision should they not? These pious ne'er-do- wells are like irritating burrs under my saddle.

But really now, the people who I feel are full of piousness are no different than myself. They are not without temptation or tendency. No one is perfect in all areas of life but we all may have some contribution for betterment.

When I ask for an opinion I most usually am looking for resolution not absolution. Therefore I go to my friends who believe as I do and ask if my participation in some such matter is OK. If I do ask someone who may oppose me, and they do, I consider them pious not practical. I make an attempt to analyse their life and call them heretics not realizing they have succumbed to temptations with which they wish me not to struggle.

Sure there are Pharisaical frumps who have nothing better to do than stomp on my creativity.  But, I must make sure I am dealing with frumps and not parents who care for me or friends who hold me accountable or pastors who use the Word of God to sear my conscience.

Tendency to question, the still small voice or even the reason to reevaluate my steps are there for a reason...I must take heed lest I 

fall. I must be careful not to categorize people who warn or differ as pious for quite soon I may discover that what I thought pious is truth and what I felt was truth is actually piosity.

FRIENDS

Recently my daughter was married. Along with the celebration came many of her friends. It may not have been the idea of these people to include me as one of their friends but they stole my heart so what can you do? I have added them to my list of special people.  Many of Heidi's school comrades stayed with us and I can't tell you all the sweetness, laughter, long talks and just plain fun I enjoyed with these new friendships that were created.

I am incredibly blessed to have so many friends...or am I? What is it with friends? They freshen your life, they accentuate your demeanor, they push you to higher levels, they cry for you, they pray for you, they bail you out, they take you in, they hold you up and pull you along. they build you up and strengthen you... they humble you and keep you accountable. Why am I worthy of this? What do I have to offer? And even so, though I don't offer much, they don't care. I am accepted, propped up, prayed over, laughed with and fed much.

Then they leave and it's not just a bump in the road to climb over...it's a hole in my life to crawl out of. My friend left us and went to be with Jesus. Don't get me wrong, I don't begrudge him since many of our talks included a desire to see our God. Time with Kent was limited since normal life took up most of our time... then why this deep hole? Is this friendship thing all it's made out to be?

Kent was electric! You may think I'm just using a descriptive word... but that's what he was. I have a ninety nine cent extension cord running though my body. Kent was an electrical grid spewing energy all throughout the room. I don't think I remember any punch lines to Kent's jokes because I was waiting for him to explode. And when he talked about his Lord every muscle was twitching and his mind was so far out in front of his mouth because he so wanted to describe the wonder of it all. One never noticed how often he served others because it was so commonplace. And you knew his life was always true, with no show, because his family exemplified his instruction and faithfulness.

Would there be no holes if there were no friendships? Would the sorrow be less if the love was less? I should think the sorrow is great because the love is deep... and would I want it any other way? Thanks Kent for allowing me into your wonderful place of friendship. You will be greatly missed.

Unshakable

As the curtain is opened and this new year unfolds I see much suffering. Many friends of mine are struggling with afflictions life has sent their way. I pray for strength and healing and reflect on what grand times we have spent together. 

My view on what is important often changes from day to day, of which I am sorry to say. I look at what I deserve and see it as mostly what I do not have. What I do not deserve I have; a living God, a loving wife, wonderful children and incredible blessings. Often I want everything; no fuss, no problems and no work. I am a servant not a master. I am a sinner not a savior but I have a part to play in this production I call life. My true desire is that what I deserve I will learn from, what I do not deserve of this I will be faithful and what I want will not overtake me.

When this curtain opens to different acts throughout this next year I pray God will give us all a new appreciation, a greater dependence and a faith in Him that will prove unshakable.

Fringe

As I get older I tend to see myself morph into a stereotype I had had for others.  Generalities are beginning to inhabit entire people groups..."those young whipper snappers."  Respect is being demanded on account of my age not my character.  Seeing certain objects is futile no matter how many times I raise or lower my head.  Times of yesteryear ("when I was a boy") have remembrances of perfection even though many of these thoughts are tainted.

To keep myself from fading too quickly into this morass I look to my kids for some sort of relevance.  In this particular instance I was watching a TV series with my son.  "Fringe" has a story line which develops a parallel universe.  You can bet it took more than a pair of "cheaters" to bring this into focus.

One specific episode shows a man, in our world, who had developed into a caring professor intent on helping people deal with their difficult past.  This same man, in the parallel universe, grew up to be a serial killer intent on making everyone pay for the demons that followed him.  What was shown to be the difference?  This world of ours showed the helpful professor had had a woman who cared for and loved him in his brutal childhood.  The man in the parallel universe had no one to shelter him from the abuse he had experienced.

As usual I got sidetracked. This tangent took me elsewhere and left me wanting more.  No extrapolation on this woman occurred but I so badly wanted her story told.  What was she like?  What did she do?  How was she involved in this boy's life?  I know, it's a TV show, but it's the same story we all live.  Who has affected my life?  Whose hand do I hold when I'm bad?  Whose hand do I hold when they're sad?  Who do I laugh at when they're joked about?  How long is my reach?  How swift is my kick? Do I yell at the merging motorist?  Am I impatient with my co-worker?  Am I short with my child?  Is this really something I do or is it something I have become?  My guess is that this woman didn't plan or do anything unusual, she probably just was.

How do I just be like Christ? Of course, putting aside me watching a TV series about a parallel universe, what do I fill my mind with?  I'm not a hormonal rhythm crier or a subliminal backwards masker but what do I allow to affect my life?  Do I hold true to the statues God puts forth in His Word?  Does the love and mercy of my Savior ooze from my life?

And why shouldn't it ooze?  In a way I live in a parallel universe. In I Corinthians 15:42  Paul states it like this;  "...the body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body."

Unlike the "Fringe" God has enabled me to move past the depression of the parallel universe and the hopelessness  of our universe and has given me the opportunity to change my eternal outcome and enjoy peace, joy and hope through the shed blood of His sacrificial Son.