True Freedom

Attending the “True Woman 12” conference in Indianapolis turned out to be 3 productive days of discovery and challenge. One of the most impacting moments happened on the first day when a parade of conference volunteers entered the expansive convention center floor carrying something unusual: a paper chain, nearly half a mile long.

As we watched over 100 women snake their way down the aisles and around the perimeter carrying the colorful construction-paper chain, we were told that the name of each person attending the conference was written on one of the links, along with a prayer specifically written for them. Those prayers had been prayed over us during the last month by 150 women who hoped we would be nourished and uplifted by “True Woman 12.”

Since there were 8200 of us at the conference, that meant each of those women who made the links, wrote the names, recorded the prayers, and prayed them, did so for over 50 women apiece. But most significant was that these women were praying from their prison cells at a correctional facility in Arkansas.

As we took in the magnitude of their gift, those 150 women wanted to connect with the 8200 of us in one more way, too. Some of them recorded prayers for us on video, and we watched as they passionately asked God to bless those of us sitting at the convention center. I was so bowled over by their kindness toward a mega-crowd of strangers I can’t even remember what they said. But God heard and began acting on their requests well ahead of our arrival to Indianapolis.

We had one more gripping surprise, a real-time greeting from these same women. As the video screens clicked on, suddenly we saw them and they saw us. These sisters in Christ, who would have loved to attend the conference in person themselves, didn’t let that “not” get in the way of blessing all of us, waving their arms wildly in a greeting.

Making that chain and praying those prayers wasn’t rational and, by the world’s standards, made no sense. But 1 John 5:1 says, “Everyone who loves the Father loves whoever has been born of him.” Because of that, these prisoners reached out to us with the love of the Father, which was absolutely spilling out of them. We were delighted, and surely God was, too.

Humbled and stunned by their depth of caring, we were amazed at what happened next. Two women came on stage with gladness and joy written all over their faces, telling us they had both been prisoners with the incarcerated women on the screen. Taking the mic, the first woman said something I’ll never forget. “I was in prison for 12½ years…. the best years of my life.”

She could say that for only one reason: while she was behind bars, she met Jesus Christ. From that moment on, no chains could bind her, and by her own testimony, he had made her a free woman.

“If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed. (John 8:36)

The Price of Commitment

Sundays aren’t as upsetting as they used to be. Watching a husband put his arm around his wife or share a hymnal doesn’t bring tears like it did a year ago, and last Sunday I even felt sincere delight watching the senior couple directly in front of me. As the congregation sang a rousing hymn, they not only shared the hymnal, they shared something else.

The husband, as he sang, occasionally glanced at his wife’s face. Every so often she looked up at him, and they shared a knowing smile. Part of the hymn they sang from memory, to each other, face-to-face. Once he leaned over and whispered something in her ear. As he did, she leaned toward him slightly, just enough to communicate acceptance and love.

On the hymn’s 3rd verse, these two 70-somethings standing side-by-side, began slowly swaying together, left and right, to the hymn’s cadence. It was so subtle an observer glancing at the congregation wouldn’t have noticed, but since they were right in front of me, I did. And it was charming.

Two things popped into my head: (1) gratitude that I wasn’t crying while witnessing this marital harmony, and (2) when one of them dies, the other will suffer. But that’s the natural consequence of a good marriage. When the time comes, even though tears will flow, the one left behind won’t wish away the years they had together to spare the pain of separation when it ends.

Most of life’s valuable commitments put us at risk for sadness, even sharp, agonizing pain: a happy marriage faces eventual widowhood and loneliness; parenthood brings incredible joy but also the misery of saying goodbye … over and over again; even taking on a family pet includes knowing we’ll one day have to bury it. Our world is full of opportunities to commit, each one involving a sacrifice, a risk, or both.

All except one.

The most important commitment any of us can ever make includes no price to pay at the end of it, and that’s our commitment to Christ. The risk and sacrifice for the greatest treasure on earth was all made by him, not us. Why he would ever agree to do what he did in order to get us is beyond figuring out. With all our imperfections and sins, we know we’re not worth the sacrifice he had to make, but apparently he thought we were. Mindboggling.

Unlike at the end of our human commitments, most of which finish with a goodbye, the final result of a commitment to Christ is an eternal hello and a life so unique and fresh we don’t now have the ability to picture it. The commitments of this world all come to an end, but signing on with Jesus is a forever partnership.

This morning, back in church, I scanned the congregation for the loving couple I’d seen the week before, but they weren’t there. When I asked, I learned they’d gone on a long trip to Europe. A second honeymoon? No, just making the most of an ongoing commitment to one another.

“At one time we thought of Christ merely from a human point of view. How differently we know him now! The old life is gone; a new life has begun! (2 Corinthians 5:16-17)

Lest You Fall

Psalm 91 includes an interesting promise about God’s care. He says he’ll command his angels to protect us from danger to the point of making sure we don’t even stub a toe on a stone. (vv. 11-12) Taking this literally as a child, I figured invisible angels would make sure I never got hurt.

But experience said otherwise. I got hurt lots while growing up, and never once saw an angel, much less felt one rescue me. So what could those verses mean?

As I’ve gotten to know the Lord over the years, I’ve seen how occasionally he allows hurtful experiences and at other times shields us from them. Our frustration comes in not knowing when he’ll do which. But rather than questioning the when, where, or why of his rescues, we should thank him for the “saves” we recognize as his doing.

Recently I learned of a spectacular one.

Hans and Katy had been entertaining another couple in their home, and after putting the 3 children to bed upstairs, the four adults were enjoying quiet conversation. Suddenly a neighbor from across the street ran into their front yard, visible from the living room window. He was waving his arms, shouting, and pointing to the second story.

“Something must be wrong upstairs,” Hans said, and bolted for the steps. Bursting into the children’s bedroom, he saw 2 year old Evelyn kneeling on the window sill with her hand on the wide-open swing-style window, leaning out (no screens). The neighbor, having just pulled into his driveway, had seen the situation and come running, not knowing if he should head for the front door or stay below the window in case Evelyn fell out.

Hans grabbed Evelyn from behind, preventing a fall to the pavement below and a sure death. “But,” Hans concluded as he told me the story, “she didn’t fall, Mom, and everything’s fine.”

After we said goodbye, I began to tremble all over, visualizing that precious child hitting the ground in a terrible accident. It wouldn’t only have altered her life but the rest of ours as well.

“Lord!” I cried. “How could you let her get on that window sill and open the window? It could have been a disaster!”

But God quickly chided me. “Who do you think arranged for the neighbor to arrive home just then? Who do you think had Hans and Katy facing the front window when he came running? Who do you think kept Evelyn anchored to the sill till her daddy reached her?”

Of course it was him, saving her from dashing her foot and the rest of her against the stones below. And suddenly I was ashamed of my accusations.

Within hours new key-locks had been installed on the windows, and Hans’ family was praising God for his rescue. As for me, after that initial dip, I could praise him, too.

“He will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways… lest you strike your foot against a stone.” (Psalm 91:11-12)