Monthly Archives: January 2011

Say it in words.

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Once in a while Jack will walk up to me and quietly whine. If he’s been walked and fed, I’m not sure what he wants and wish he could say it in words, so I could help him.

Little children have a similar problem. They’re born with needs and opinions but can’t talk for a couple of long years. Parents are left to interpret the different nuances of their cries and behavior, hoping they’ll understand.

Recently when my five grandchildren were here, all of them were sick. When they didn’t feel good, they’d whimper and cry, but four of the five couldn’t use words to say what they were feeling. Sore throat? Clogged sinuses? Tummy ache? Headache? We could only guess.

During those weeks, there were several other reasons we wished our little ones had words: important items began disappearing. One day a baby monitor we’d used in the morning was nowhere to be found by afternoon. About the size of a cordless phone but white and with an antenna, it should have been easy to find.

All of us hunted with diligence, becoming increasingly frustrated not to find it. A day of searching went by and then two. We even prayed about it, not so much for the intense need of the monitor as to know where it went. “Lord, you see it right now. Won’t you show us?”

Of course we asked our small fry, using the other half of the monitor-set as bait. “Do you know where one of these is? Where did you put it?” Only half joking, we said, “Just say it in words!” But of course they couldn’t.

Many times Nicholas or Skylar would dash off, acting like they knew, raising our hopes of finding it. Sadly, though, after several days, we could only conclude it had gone into a local landfill by way of our trash.

Why didn’t God answer our prayer and show us the monitor? It would have been easy for him, yet he refused. I find this exasperating yet symbolic of many of our unanswered prayers. It’s as if we pray, “Just say it in words, Lord! Tell us where to look, what to do, which to choose.”

I can’t count the times I’ve prayed the “tell me” prayer. Right now I’m asking about my phone charger. I put it someplace safe before the kids arrived and now can’t find it.

Why doesn’t God usually answer these prayers? Maybe he wants us to:

  • practice waiting
  • increase in patience
  • learn to be careful next time
  • learn to handle frustration
  • order our priorities
  • find humor in the situation

 

Apparently our family needed to learn those things, because we never found the monitor…

…until today.

While cleaning out the candle cabinet (a child-high, double-door cupboard), there it was. Little hands had hidden it in the back. Maybe we’d learned our lessons after all.

And interestingly, God didn’t use words to answer our prayer.

“ ‘Can anyone [or anything] hide from me in a secret place? Am I not everywhere in all the heavens and earth?’ says the Lord.” (Jeremiah 23:24)

Welcome Home to Heaven

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Sometimes I wish I could think simply, like a child, free from decades of mental detail. It’s easy to surmise, assume and guess about the way things are, but often I’m wrong. Ever since Nate died, my thoughts have leaned toward heaven, trying to imagine what his life there is like. But how accurate are they?

I often wonder how God could ever extend the privilege of heaven’s utopia to ordinary humans. We’re hopelessly flawed and completely undeserving. And of course if it weren’t for Jesus’ willingness to pay a sky-high price for our entry, we wouldn’t have a hope of ever living there.

This morning my day began by reading a thrilling blog-comment left by “Beth Jones” in response to yesterday’s post about not losing heart. Here’s part of it:

“[My husband] Bruce preached a funeral message Saturday that focused on Psalm 116:15 ‘Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints.’ His last point was about the joy and excitement of our Lord to have us come home to Him with nothing in the way of perfect fellowship with Him. How delightful it is to think of His joy in our coming home… from His perspective!”

When I read this, I got goose bumps. In all my thinking about heaven, I’d always pictured Jesus as the giver and me as the getter. What could I possibly give him that could matter at all? It had never occurred to me he might rejoice to see me coming as if given a gift. Such a thought seems prideful on my part.

What I now understand, however, is that his joy in receiving me and all other Christians is rooted in the enormous investment he made to save us from eternal destruction. Our arrival into heaven is inextricably linked with that sacrifice, which is why he’ll be happy to see us when we arrive.

I can hardly take it in!

I emailed Beth, who talked to Bruce, who emailed me back. During last weekend’s funeral, he expanded on those thoughts: God created us in his image with the intention of having an eternal relationship with us. Until I’m standing in front of him, looking into his eyes and talking with him face-to-face, there will always be a barrier to our relationship, a distance between us.

As Bruce said, it’s because he loves us so much that his heart will “rejoice when we die and are finally home with him.” And that’s why our deaths are labeled “precious” in Scripture.

In recent weeks half-a-dozen elderly “saints” from my childhood church have died, people I grew up knowing and admiring. We’ve joked about a Moody Church reunion going on in glory, with Jesus in the middle of it. I can picture these friends huddled in a circle, arms around each others’ shoulders, jumping up and down as one unit of boundless exhilaration with Jesus the most enthusiastic of all… because they’ve come home to him.

Maybe as I picture that uncomplicated scene, I’m finally “thinking simply,” just like a child. Every little kid loves a party, and I’m glad my invitation to that one is safe and sound.

“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.” (Psalm 116:15)

Don’t lose heart.

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Last week I received a note in the mail with handwriting I hadn’t seen for quite a while but recognized immediately. It was the strong script of Pastor George Sweeting, the man who married Nate and I in 1969. He was the head pastor at Moody Church then, and we were delighted he was available to perform our ceremony.

As we met with him privately in the days before the wedding, Pastor Sweeting told us he felt invested in the couples he married and offered to be available to us indefinitely through the years of our marriage, should we need him in any way. Although he eventually left the church to become the president of Moody Bible Institute, he kept in touch with us and occasionally reminded us of his offer.

About a month ago, 41 years after he married us, I bumped into Pastor Sweeting and his wife Hilda at a funeral, and we exchanged hugs and had a quick conversation. His letter followed that meeting and means a great deal to me.

This is a man who has spent a lifetime teaching and preaching the truth of Jesus Christ with indomitable optimism and joy. His letter was filled with encouragement not to “lose heart” in my walk through widowhood, and he cited four Scriptures urging me not to get discouraged or give up, two of them from Nate’s favorite biblical chapter, Hebrews 12. When we grow weary and don’t feel like fighting our battles anymore, whether they’re struggles with sorrow or loneliness or the difficult tasks of the day, the Bible tells us to examine the life of Jesus “so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”

Jesus didn’t have an easy life in any category, yet according to Scripture he never lost heart, gave up or walked off the job. He remained focused on his mission, difficult as it was, all the way to the excruciating end. God offers to equip us to do the same.

Where Nate lives today, not one soul is discouraged, because the temptation to lose heart has no place in heaven. Rather his life is overflowing with  joy beyond words as he lives with Christ among a crowd of other contented believers. Although Nate sometimes lost heart in his earthly life, all of that is but a dim, powerless memory for him now, if even that. And the same happy destiny awaits all of us who align with Jesus.

Although Pastor Sweeting helped Nate and I “tie the knot” that death has now untied, he’s still making good on his promise to help us by encouraging me not to lose heart.

 “We know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus from the dead will also raise us with Jesus…  Therefore we do not lose heart…” (2 Corinthians 4:14a,16a)