A Fresh Perspective

Posted on by

Through cyberspace relationships I’ve heard incredible stories of hardship coming to widows and widowers. One woman lost her husband, her mother and one of her children in the same 18 month period, and yet she perseveres.

While walking Jack today, I saw a great visual for this kind of resilience, a simple day lily growing on a hill. It looked every bit like it’d once been at death’s door but was now thriving.

The life-giving stem had been crimped, as if someone had tried to snap it off but failed to break it completely. Left hanging, it had gathered new strength through what little stem was left in tact and had reversed its direction. Today it was growing toward the sun and had put forth a fresh bloom.

The same can be true for people. Life’s load can force us low, but as we entrust ourselves to God, he prevents total breakdown. The question is, why does he let us get so close to complete collapse before rescuing us? Can’t he hear us “crying uncle” as we go down?

I can think of several reasons why severe adversity comes to us. They’re the reasons Christians usually give in an effort to bring comfort or understanding: (1) Life isn’t fair, and bad things happen to good people; (2) Disease and accidents occur because we live in a fallen, sinful world God never intended; (3) God allows trials so we’ll turn to him during the struggle; (4) Sometimes God takes people in death to save them from something worse; (5) God wants to show us he can bring good things out of bad circumstances.

Each statement contains an element of truth, and I’ve experienced bits of all of them through Nate’s cancer, death and my widowhood. But when a loved one is hurting or even dies, none of those answers bring much satisfaction.

More satisfying to me has been simply to accept the truth that I’ll never fully understand. Although God is omniscient and omnipotent, he makes the choice not to stop all evil, terminate all persecution, or heal all illness.

He could, but he doesn’t.

And that’s the part I don’t like and don’t get. It’s a disconnect from human logic. But then again, he’s not human.

The good news is, miserable circumstances are also a golden opportunity to trust God in spite of them. It’s a chance to increase my faith in him and overlay the negatives with the perfection and goodness of his character. He is without flaw, the topmost Being in existence. I can rail against him if I want, attacking, spewing anger, laying blame. But at the end of it I’d feel just as bad.

Strangely, it’s when the flailing and fighting has stopped that God pours his peace into troubled people. He may not change the circumstances, but he gives a new way to look at them.

And just like the damaged lily, we end up blossoming again, too.

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.” (Isaiah 43:2)

Hit me.

Posted on by

It was a spring morning in 1980, and our three young children were dressed and ready for Sunday school. The balmy weather coaxed them outside while Nate and I finished organizing, and all three went next-door to play on the swings.

In those days swing sets were nothing like the wooden fortresses today’s youngsters enjoy. Back then they usually included two chained swings, a two-seated glider and a short slide, all made of metal.

Nelson, age 7, Lars 5, and Linnea 3, were playing nicely until suddenly blood-curdling screams came through our windows. We raced out and found Linnea on the ground, the boys hovering over her. Apparently they’d been on the glider pumping vigorously when Linnea had walked in front of them. One of the metal foot pegs had blasted her behind the ear, sending her flying and cutting a deep wound.

By the time we reached them, Linnea’s white pinafore was covered with blood as well as her hair, hands and arms. Nelson saw our alarm and quickly threw up a defense. “We didn’t do it! Not on purpose! It’s her fault!”

Nate carried his wailing daughter into the house, and we mopped her up enough to realize the gash would send us to the emergency room instead of Sunday school. It was difficult holding her still for the stitches, and at one point she had to be bound. But the outcome was good, and she healed 100%.

Many times I’ve asked my heavenly Father to “whack me over the head” with his answers to my prayers, and although I hope that doesn’t involve hospital stitches, I do want him to “hit me.” Especially when in the throes of making a difficult decision, I crave clear understanding of his preferred choice and don’t want to move ahead without hearing from him.

Amazingly, sometimes he complies, not with a bloody head or even audible words but by stopping me from making a mistake. For example, one time I was about to post a blog that wouldn’t have been wise, and the power went out in the house, preventing me from doing it. By the time it came back on, God had given me a more suitable idea.

He works this way in all our lives, speaking first with a still, small voice we often miss but then upping-the-ante by “hitting us over the head” with his answers to our prayers. I love that he gladly increases the intensity until we “hear” it. The fact that he never gives up is confirmation of his love.

When little Linnea got her glider-whack on the head, it probably wasn’t from God. But she definitely learned a valuable lesson and never again walked in front of a swing.

That’s exactly the kind of dynamic influence I hope God has on me when he’s trying to get my attention, a “hit” of insight that will make a permanent impact.

“Listen, my people, and I will speak… I am God, your God.” (Psalm 50:7)

Boy Oh Boy!

Posted on by

I clearly remember the day our fourth son was born. We had one girl, and as a six year old, she’d been praying passionately for a sister. God was planning to give her her heart’s desire but not yet, because along came yet another brother.

That night at the hospital, after the wonder of a safe delivery and its joyful aftermath had calmed, Mary asked Nate, “How do you feel about having another son?”

Nate’s answer was a good one: “You can never have too many boys.”

Back in biblical times, having boys was critical to carrying on the family name and profession. The more sons, the better. Even in the early days of our nation, as pioneers moved west and took advantage of the government’s free 60 acres and a mule, fathers hoped for boys who could help on the farm.

When our 4th boy came along, our good friend Florie gave Nate a poem with a valuable message about little boys and their fathers. I still have it hanging above a photo of Dad, Nate and our four sons:

A careful man I ought to be.
Four young fellows follow me.
I do not dare to go astray,
For fear they’ll go the selfsame way.

Not once can I escape their eyes.
Whate’er they see me do, they try.
Like me, they say they’re going to be,
Those four young chaps that follow me.

I must remember as I go,
Through summer sun and winter snow,
I’m molding for the years to be
Those four young chaps God gave to me.

God’s plan is that boys grow into men who can be humble, godly leaders, especially in marriages and families. Warren Wiersbe used to say he didn’t understand how husbands could forfeit the chance to spiritually lead their children, telling us he counted it a golden opportunity and a considerable privilege to do so in his own home.

Raising boys well is a big job. James Dobson wrote a thick book about it, and experts agree it calls for different tactics than raising girls. The most difficult part of fathering comes in being a strong example for sons to emulate, and that includes loving their mother. The list of all a man should do is long and difficult, but God doesn’t leave them without his encouragement and assistance.

He, too, is a father to a son, and they’re a unified pair like no other. Jesus told us, “I do what my Father tells me to do and say what he tells me to say.” (John 14:10, John 12:50) When a father is 100% perfect, this tact works out well for the son. Earthly fathers can’t claim perfection, however, but they can study the example of divine fatherhood and emulate that close, loving bond.

I’m thankful daily for our four boys. They’ve demonstrated strength during my days of weakness and have, I’m sure, made their own father proud.

Nate was right. You can never have too many boys.

“Children born to a young man are like arrows in a warrior’s hands. How joyful is the man whose quiver is full of them!” (Psalm 127:5a)