Finding the Lost

When I was fresh out of college, teaching in the Chicago school system, my bank account was flush with paychecks and very few financial commitments. The dollars piled up, and a friend suggested I swap my Chevy Corvair for something classier.

I bought another Chevrolet but this time a Corvette convertible with both hard and soft tops. It was candy apple red and full of speed. With an apartment on Chicago’s near north side, 3 great roommates and a secure job, I was enjoying my new independence.

One busy Sunday afternoon I arrived back at the apartment planning to stay only a few minutes and parked my Corvette on the street without putting up the top. In less than 10 minutes, it had been stolen.

I called the police, filed a report, posted notices and drove a borrowed car through Chicago neighborhoods in search of my beloved Corvette, but it had vanished.

On this 10 year anniversary of the 9/11 attacks, while listening to a recitation of casualty names, I thought about the nearly 3000 people who had vanished that day. Hospitals were staffed and waiting, but very few patients ever arrived. For weeks family members believed their loved ones might still be found alive, so they posted pictures and desciptions throughout the city.

Bus stop shelters and phone booths became makeshift bulletin boards covered with photos and names as hopeful people tried to connect with those they couldn’t find, but precious few succeeded. Yesterday I heard the gruesome statistic: only 39 bodies were actually found in the rubble.

None of those 3000 planned to finish their lives that day, but just like them, the rest of us don’t pick our last day either. It takes exceptional planning to be ready, and apart from God, none of us can be.

But there’s a big difference between New York’s picture Lost and Found and God’s. Every one of us start out lost because of our inherited bent toward sin, like pictures on a bulletin board waiting to be rescued. Thankfully, God’s finder fee was paid by Christ, and 100% of those who want to be found, are.

If it were up to God, his Lost and Found would be completely empty, nothing on the bulletin board, no pictures of the lost. But he’s left it up to each of us. And with unplanned last-days like September 11, 2001, a decision that says “yes” to being found by the Lord is better made now rather than later.

(As for the red Corvette, against all odds the police found it 24 hours later, in tact except for the screwdriver where the starter had been.)

“The Son of Man came to seek and save those who are lost. Now is the time of God’s favor; now is the day of salvation.” (Luke 19:10, 2 Corinthians 6:2)

Fairy Tale Living

When Nate and I got married in 1969, Pastor Sweeting asked each of us for a favorite Bible verse he could incorporate into our wedding ceremony. As a 24-year-old, I looked ahead to the fairy tale life Nate and I would lead, unaware of the twists and turns we would have to take. So I told the pastor my favorite verse was 2 Samuel 22:33: “God is my strength and power, and He makes my way perfect.” And that, along with Nate’s favorite, was the Scripture he used.

Life was perfect back then. I was a bride with a handsome groom looking toward endless bright tomorrows. Although I had only a perfunctory relationship with God, I thought my wedding verse summarized exactly how life would unfold: perfectly. At that moment, “my way was perfect,” though I don’t recall crediting God for any of it.

As the Lord would have it, though, life wouldn’t be the fairy-tale I’d envisioned. He loved me too much not to put some bumps on our road. In his view, hard times would be the reason I’d step closer to him.

Since those idyllic days of 1969, I’ve learned life may have brief moments of fairy tale happiness, but this side of heaven, that can’t be the theme. I’ve also learned that rough patches do have the capacity for joy buried in them.

In 2004 I was asked a second time about my favorite verse. Mom surprised us at her 90th birthday party, arriving with 23 gifts for her 3 children, 3 children-in-law, and 17 grandchildren: a Bible for each one, the style, translation and cover chosen to match the different personalities. Then she said,  “Next year when I turn 91, the only birthday gift I want is for each of you to write down your favorite verse from your new Bible and tell me why.”

I didn’t have to think long. Although 2 Samuel 22:33 is still God’s inspired truth, the verse I’d needed most often in the 35 years since our wedding, had been a different one. Despite my fairy tale expectations in 1969, troubles had, indeed, found us, and I’d needed God’s practical help, as well as a way to find joy within struggles.

I found both by claiming my special verse: James 1:5.

If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.”  

God hopes his Word will come in handy for us. He says it’s alive and able to empower us to get through each dilemma that comes. As we use Scripture for everyday purposes we’re actually linking up with eternity, because God’s Word is established in heaven.

And maybe when we get there, instead of relying on one favorite verse, we’ll automatically have the whole Bible memorized, a grand finale’ unmatched by any fairy tale.

“Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.” (Matthew 24:35)

The Death of Summer

Some people favor autumn over other seasons, but many more prefer summer with its beach-worthy days and balmy evenings. I’m in that camp.

Last week my kitchen thermometer dipped into the 30’s overnight, unseasonably cold for the Midwest in early September. It was a glimpse of much colder days immediately ahead. Although September is lovely, it prompts sadness over August’s demise.

Today when Jack and I went walking on the beach, 20 mph winds whipped around us, and I was glad to be zipped into a winter coat. Temperatures weren’t extreme, still in the high 50’s, but the beach felt chilly. I laughed, remembering how the same temperature feels warm in April or May. When it gets “that warm,” we dig out our capris and sandals. I suppose that’s because in spring we still have our winter skins on, after muscling through bona fide cold.

Now it’s time to get used to falling temps again, and that doesn’t feel so good. The same holds true for life’s emotionally cold, harsh seasons.

Once in a while God lets winter winds buffet us, causing us to mourn the loss of warmer, cheerier times. We’re forced to leave a pleasantly warm emotional season and enter a ruthless cold one, usually against our wishes. My many new widow friends feel this way. None were ready to say goodbye to their men or to go-it-alone. But God allowed death to come anyway, and each wife found herself in the unwelcome season of widowhood.

Some of the women tried to bargain with God: “Please, Lord, don’t take my husband! If you do, then take me, too. I can’t possibly live without him.”

A few prayed, “Transfer his illness to me. Do anything you want to me, but just don’t take him!” And yet God did, bringing in a wintry season of deep loneliness and forced change.

So they struggled along, doing what had to be done, feeling what had to be felt. Then one day they realized they’d found a bit of relief from grief, and after the first year, actually felt hopeful. This isn’t to say they’d stopped missing their men. But signs of spring’s emotional thaw began at about that time, and “I can’t” slowly moved to “I can.”

This is true for most of life’s crises. Time spent squaring off with the undesirable changes and tackling the new beginnings gradually mitigates the negative impact. And one day, a widow who said, “Oh, Lord, anything but that!” finds herself smiling again as her heart moves into a new summer season.

God allowed her to experience winter winds, but he was also faithful to bring spring blossoms. So when we’re tempted to grieve the passing of our favorite season, we should remind ourselves God will eventually bring it around again, outside our windows and inside our hearts.

“I will send down showers in season; there will be showers of blessing. They [his people] will live in safety, and no one will make them afraid.” (Ezekiel 34:26b,28b)