Rising From The Ashes

In literature, the "pheonix" is a mythical bird that was able to bring life from hopeless death.  After a life-span of about one thousand years, this legendary bird would settle in a tree to die.  At the moment of death, the bird would burst into flames, only to be given life and rebirth from its ashes.  The phoenix serves as a symbol of hope in a time of despair.  As Christians, we don't look to a bird for our hope.  We look to Jesus.

Sometimes life seems to cloud that hope.  The older that I get, the more often reality checks come.  I am just about to the point of not watching the news anymore.  Tragedy strikes daily.  This morning's headlines covered a story of a family in New York driving to a family reunion, when the driver lost control of the car.  The mini-van plummeted sixty feet into the Bronx Zoo, killing all seven family members.  A precious family in the middle of a Sunday afternoon drive-- gone in an instant.

Last week, I learned of a friend's diagnosis of inoperable brain cancer.  He is the father of three children, in the prime of his life.  Also, last week, we celebrated the life of a wonderful friend and mentor who lost (or won, however you may look at it!) a nine year battle with cancer.  Sometimes it is so hard to make sense of life.  Sometimes, life seems almost too difficult.  The hard times blot out our remembrances of joy.  The clouds roll in, and it seems as if they will never again part to reveal a ray of light.  Life is hard, and it is so easy to lose our faith. 

As Christians, we are called to serve those in need.  To hold up those who are weak.  To give strength to the weary.  But how do we support and help those going through such terrible heartbreak?  I try to teach my children daily about empathy--not sympathy.  Not just sympathy of feeling sorry, but true empathy.  Being able to put yourself in another person's shoes.  Being able to really feel their joy and their pain.  Being able to use our experiences in life to help other people in a way that only we can.

Suffering and joy teach us, if we allow them, how to make the leap of empathy, which transports us into the soul and heart of another person. In those transparent moments we know other people’s joys and sorrows, and we care about their concerns as if they were our own.”
~Fritz Williams

Several weeks ago, our school family suffered the tragic loss of one of our students.  Matt, was a junior, and his smile is engraved into my mind for all time.  A star football player and overall great young man, Matt was taken from us so suddenly.  The impact of his death has been so evident on our student body.  The students give hugs and love much more freely.  Typical high school drama has taken a backseat to more important things.  Matt's positive influence lives on, although his laughter was noticeably absent from our banquet last weekend.  I have thought of Matt's father, Pete, a thousand times in the past month.  Pete admittedly was Matt's best friend, and Matt was his whole life. I cannot imagine the pain; the loss; the void.

Friends have ministered to Pete in the past weeks.  Prayers have been offered daily that God bring healing and comfort to this grieving father.  Prayers that somehow good can come from such loss.  God has been present and working in those few weeks.  Yesterday, Matt's influence shined extremely bright as Pete took on the Lord Jesus in baptism.  What a tribute to his son!  What a remembrance that God, too, lost a son, and through Him, we are given the promise of eternity!  What an example of rising over tragedy! 
What a blessing that God used people to minister to another!

In thinking of the joy in the midst of sorrow, I am reminded of an Old Testament story about David.  David has always been one of my favorite Bible characters.  David is said to be "a man after God's own heart," but he messed up -- ALOT!  (That gives me hope!)  After an adulterous affair with a woman, their newborn son becomes extremely ill. David prays and prays for God to heal the baby.  He fasts and puts on sackcloth, begging God to spare the child.  God answers is "No."  After the baby's death, David arises, washes himself, and eats.  He states that although he cannot bring the child back, he can one day go to the child.  When I heard of Pete's baptism, I couldn't help but think--Pete cannot bring Matt back, but he can surely go to him one day!  What a blessing to begin healing his broken heart!

So today, I encourage you (and me!) to be an encouragement to someone in your life.  Someone who is going through a difficult time.  Think back to a time when you were in a valley, and how support was so needed and appreciated.  You never know how your smile, your presence, your kind word can uplift another.  Be the imaginary pheonix in someone's life, and help them to rise up.  Be Jesus in someone's life, and give them the hope that only He can offer!

What a Weekend! What a Savior!

Earlier this week, Danny Gregg, youth minister of Donelson Church of Christ, here in Nashville, spoke in our school devotional.  As he tried to help the students wrap their minds around the sudden and tragic death of a class mate, he spoke of God's victory over death.  He spoke of Jesus being raised to a new life.  He spoke of Heaven, a place where death's sting will never again be felt.  He spoke of resurrection moments. His words have remained in my heart this week, and I've seen so many of those little glimmers of hope and healing.  Those are not coincidences.  Those are God's works.

As I enjoyed my new routine of daily walks this morning, I was amazed by the beauty of spring around me.  Every tree is bursting with new life.  Roses are blooming in brilliant colors of reds,  yellows and pinks.  Tulips are lifting their gorgeous little heads to a vibrant blue and cloudless sky.  The birds are chirping and readying for new life in their nests.  Lawns are being mowed, and shrubbery is being mulched.  It's Easter weekend, and there is a sense of happiness in the air.

I've always loved Easter.  I remember it being such a special time when my three children were younger.  My mother and I always "stuffed" hundreds of plastic eggs for our family's annual Easter Egg Hunt.  (Yes, they were spoiled!  Three children did not need hundreds of eggs!)  The last egg hunt we had was in 2006, just a few months before she went to be with the Lord.  We decided it would probably be the last one we would have when Colton and Conner physically fought over the $25 golden egg!  I almost never got the grass stain out of their Easter pants!

But Easter is not all about bunnies and baskets.  It's about a Savior, and the Lord put these thoughts on my heart this morning.

As we enjoy this Good Friday, I am reminded of a fateful Friday two thousand years ago.  A day much like any other day in the lives of most people.  A day when babies were born.  A day when an elderly woman drew her last breath.  A day when the sun rose just as any other day.  But this day was different.  This would be a Friday when men in high places, who had plotted against our Lord, would carry out those sinister actions.    This would be a day when a beloved friend would do the unthinkable for a bag of silver coins.  This would be a day when a mother's heart would be broken as she saw her son hung on a cross.  This would be a day when Satan would feel like he had won. 

On that Friday, my Lord; your Lord; God's son, would make a conscious decision to be beaten and shamed.  Scorned and spat upon.  Mocked and ridiculed.  He had asked God to take this dark cup away from him, but he obediently fulfilled the will of His Father.  He would endure this because of His love for people.  His friends.  His family.  His followers.  Even those who hated him.  Even those who had never seen him.  Even those who had never been born.  Even me.  Even you.

On that Friday, my Lord, your Lord, God's son, would have nails driven through his body.  He would be raised on a cruel cross at Golgotha between two criminals.  He would be offered vinegar to drink when he asked for water.  He would cry out in agony.  He would promise paradise for eternity to one of those criminals hanging beside him.  He would ask his loyal friend to take care of  his mother, Mary.  Hateful eyes would gawk at His writhing body.  Hateful hearts would turn stone cold as they witnessed this treachery.  Hateful souls would be happy when this "Jesus, King of the Jews" was dead.

On that Friday, my Lord; your Lord; God's son, could have called ten thousand angels to come to his rescue.  He could have called a legion of hosts to rein down vengeance on the hateful mob.  He could have taken Himself down off of that cross.  But He didn't.  His love for me won out over the hatred of that day. His love for you was more than the hateful actions of the mob.  His love for His Father trumped it all.  God had asked Jesus to complete this task, and that was enough.

On that Friday, my Lord; your Lord; God's son, would cry out one final time before it was finished.  His side would be pierced, and blood and water would freely flow from it.  Darkness would cover the land as His Father showed His own power.  The veil of the temple would be ripped in two, as evidence that truly Jesus was the Son of God.

On that Friday, my Lord; your Lord; God's son, died.  His lifeless body would be taken down from that wooden cross.  It would be lovingly washed and prepared for burial.  Tears would flow by all that loved him.  But tears would not bring him back.  Jesus was dead.  That torn and tattered body would be placed in a borrowed tomb.  Friends would leave that place in a state of shock  It would be a Friday they would never forget.

I can only imagine the hurt.  The loss.  The feelings of not knowing what to do.  Jesus, the Savior, was dead.

This was real.

But on Sunday, my Lord, your Lord; God's son, would burst forth from that grave.  That torn and tattered body would be filled with new life and new hope.  Death would be conquered.  Christ's resurrection would take away the pain of death.  The pain of separation.  The pain of hopelessness.

On Sunday, my Lord; your Lord; God's son, would show His power, and His love for me, and for you.  The sting of death was lessened.  Separation might be temporary, but salvation would be for eternity.  This earthly life would pass, and with it would come physical death.  But spiritual life everlasting was promised because Jesus came out of that grave on Sunday!  Death had no victory!   

On Sunday, the plan of those men in high places had failed.  The betrayal for a bag of silver had been of no use.  On Sunday, a mother's heart would be healed.  On Sunday, Satan would be defeated. On Sunday, I was given a promise of eternal life.  On Sunday, you were given that same promise.

What a gift!  What a weekend!  What a SAVIOR!

Mustard Seed Faith

Sometimes life just seems a bit too overwhelming.  In the past weeks, I have watched friends go through  immense seasons of sorrow.  Young people lost in traffic accidents, just as their lives began to unfold.  A high school buddy gone before his 50th birthday.  A dear friend ending his courageous battle with cancer.  Parents  taken from their families right in the prime of life.  Sometimes I think that we forget that Death is not a respecter of persons.  Death does not seek out to rid this world of only the wicked and treacherous.  Death comes to all of us at some point, but seems extremely "off schedule" at times.  Young people are supposed to be born, grow up, get married, raise a family, and grow old before Death comes for them. 

I'm reminded of an old church song that we don't sing very much anymore.  "No Tears in Heaven" was one of my daddy's favorite songs.  His quartet sang it often, and I can still hear the harmonious bass runs of the chorus in my mind.

"No tears . . . in heaven fair; 
No tears . . .  no tears up there; 
Sorrow and pain will all have flown.
No tears in heaven will be known." 

The older I get the sweeter those words seem to get.  I long for a place where there will be no more tears.  No more pain.  No more separation.  No more doubt.  No more guilt.  No more stress.

But, what do we do until we get to that place?  How do we smile through the pain?  Laugh when our hearts are broken?  Believe when the unbelievable shakes our world?  Be strong for our children, when our own knees are buckling beneath us?

Our faith somehow gets us through this life.  But what is faith, and how do we get it--or keep it when life throws us those  proverbial curve balls?

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" (Heb.11:1).

Faith is trust and belief.  It acts as the support structure to hope.   It gives us the ability to get up some mornings. It gives us the knowledge that "this too shall pass."

Romans 12:3 states that God gives us a "measure of faith."  Later in Romans 10:17, we learn that "faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God."

Jesus tells us in Matthew 17, that we don't have to have a tremendous amount of faith.  He says that only a small amount, the size of a mustard seed, will suffice.  A mustard seed is tiny.  It is smaller than an eraser tip on a pencil.  Yet, the Bible tells us, we can do great things with only this small, seemingly insignificant, amount of faith. 

Our faith is increased when we dive into Bible study and prayer.  Getting into God's word allows Him to speak to us, and to our situations.  God is our Father, and He loves us.  Sometimes I have to remind myself of that almost daily.  He is MY Father.  He loves ME.  Although sometimes I don't understand that, it is true.  And MY Father understands when I hurt.  He understands when I'm crushed.  He understands when I cannot go another step.  That's when HE offers comfort.  HE offers peace.  HE picks me up and carries me.  God WANTS to hear from ME.  He WANTS me to talk to Him.  He WANTS me to cry out to Him in those tragic times.  He WANTS me to KNOW that He cares and has a plan to carry me through all this jumbled mess of a life. 

Many times it is not until we have gone through a valley of life that we truly "get it."  We fully  understand that God was right there beside us during those difficult times.  The untimely death of a parent.  A stage 4 cancer diagnosis.  A miscarriage of a much wanted child.  An unfaithful spouse after thirty years of marriage.  A death of a young person seemingly snatched from the cradle of life. 

My mother was a shining example of faith in my life, and I've thought of her everyday since her death in 2006.  Following my father's suicide in 1984, Mother sank into a real depression.  She dealt with all of the "if onlys" and "what ifs" that follow such an event.  After a year or so, her faith blossomed.  There was nothing she could do to change the events of my father's life, but she could use that experience to help others.  In the twenty plus years that followed, Mother ministered to families that experienced suicide.  She spent hours just talking to spouses that had gone through the same valley.  She wrote notes of encouragement and understanding.  She became an advocate for persons with mental health challenges, and she was a beacon in many lives.

She told me many times that the things of this life can make us "bitter or better."  Those words ring in my ears in so many instances.  Satan uses our situations for his glory too many times.  Life throws us junk, and we turn our backs on God.  We blame God.  Someone is surely to blame.  God could have stopped this if HE had wanted to.  God could have changed this if HE had wanted to.  But He did not.  So, HE does not love me.  And I, in return, do not love him.  We cannot let the troubles and trials of this life pull us from God. 

Ecclesiastes 3 speaks of various "times" in life.  There is, indeed a time for everything.

  There is a time for everything,
   and a season for every activity under the heavens:   
  a time to be born and a time to die,
   a time to plant and a time to uproot,
  a time to kill and a time to heal,
   a time to tear down and a time to build,
  a time to weep and a time to laugh,
   a time to mourn and a time to dance,
  a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
   a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
  a time to search and a time to give up,
   a time to keep and a time to throw away,
  a time to tear and a time to mend,
   a time to be silent and a time to speak,
  a time to love and a time to hate,
   a time for war and a time for peace. 

Isaiah 3:11 states that God will make everything beautiful in its time.

I love that promise.  Everything will be beautiful in time.  So, although to day is such a gray, cloudy day for so many around me, the sun will shine again.  It may not be tomorrow.  It may not be next week.  It may not ever be the same as it was before, and sometimes life is changed forever.  But it will shine again.  


Don't be afraid, for I am with you. Don't be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up with my victorious right hand. (Isaiah 41:10)

God is right beside of us today--and always. We hurt. We ache. Our hearts are broken. But we are His children, and His love will get us through these challenging days. Do we understand? No. Do we question? Yes. Will we ever fully comprehend? Doubtful. 

We just have to grab on to that small grain of mustard seed faith today. God will do the rest.