A Lesson on Lostness -- Part 2

Have you ever lost something?  Probably most of us have at some time or other.  I absolutely HATE misplacing anything!  "It" will just eat at me until I clean out, clear out, and contemplate on every possible place the lost "it" could be!  I rarely settle on the thought that "it" is just gone, never to be again seen.  Rather, I usually just diligently search until "it" is found, at last!  I so enjoy that "ah-ha" moment when "it" is back in my possession--until I misplace it again!

Jesus demonstrates such a lostness in Luke 15 with the "Parable of the Lost Coin."  He explains that a woman had ten coins, which must have been very dear to her.  One of the coins becomes lost, and the woman frantically looks for it.   She lights a lamp to look into every crack and crevice of her home.  She sweeps the floor.  When the lost coin is found, she rejoices.  She calls her friends and neighbors to rejoice with her because she has found something so very special in her life.

Today, we think of coins as almost trivial.  We find them on floors and between couch cushions.  I regularly find them in my washer, and I usually consider that my tip!  We don't have a lot of information about the woman in the parable.  We can presume any number of scenarios about her life.  Regardless, these coins are of utmost importance to her.  She does not consider the fact that she still has nine coins, and perhaps, the other one is just not important.  She does not consider not looking for it.  She must have felt that nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach until the lost coin was found.  Once found, she doesn't just sigh, and silently feel the weight off of her shoulders.  She cannot contain her happiness, and she shares it with others important in her life.

Several years ago, our family was enjoying a beautiful fall day on Daytona Beach.  Our children were young, and we had packed a trunk full of water toys, buckets, boogie boards and noodles.  Indeed, we were a spectacle with all of our gear!  Luckily, cars are allowed on the beach, so we didn't have to walk too far!  After several hours of play, we took a time out for an ice cream bought from a food truck that travels up and down the beach.  Following our snack, Jeff announced that he would like a nap.  I took the children a little way down the beach to throw a ball.  Conner was about six at this time.  He decided that he wanted his boogie board, so watched as he went back to Jeff to get it.  As I watch him, a car passed by us, and it hid my view of Conner momentarily.  Within those few seconds, he was out of my sight and GONE.  As I tried to adjust my eyes, I saw Jeff lying on the beach towel.  I saw Conner's board.  I saw all of our stuff, but NO Conner.

My heart physically seemed to leap in my chest.  Katie, Colton and I rushed to Jeff, hoping he had seen Conner.  He was asleep.  By this time, I was crying and screaming for Conner.  The people around us immediately saw our distress, and they offered assistance.  Within a few minutes, a little search party was desperately looking for my little boy.  The life guard was notified, and a beach police patrol arrived quickly.  There was absolutely no sight of Conner, and my imagination was running wild.  Could someone have nabbed him?  Could he have been taken in a car?  Could he have gotten in the water?  This was my worst nightmare!

The beach patrol officer advised Jeff and the children to wait at our beach spot in case Conner returned.  The officer took me in the beach truck to drive up and down the beach looking for him.  He radioed in a missing child alert, and I went into a total melt down upon hearing that.  My mind raced.  How would I ever leave this beach without my child?  How would I ever forgive myself for losing my child?  How would I ever explain to Katie and Colton that Conner was gone?

I have never felt such a feeling of utter helplessness in that crowd of beach goers that day.  Everyone looked at me with such pity, and my heart felt as if it would break.  Thirty minutes had passed, and I felt as if I were going to be sick.  I felt as if I were going to faint.  This just could not be happening.  I could not lose something so dear to me.  Yes, I had two other wonderful children; but I longed for my baby--the one that was lost.  I cried out for God to please let us find him.  Please let me find my lost boy.

A call came in on the radio.  Conner had been found almost two miles up the beach.  How had he gotten so far away so quickly?  Was he alright?  The police officer assured me that a life guard had him, and Conner seemed to be fine.  As we drove up, I will never forget the feeling I had when I saw my little boy sitting on the life guard stand looking left and right for me.  I will never forget jumping out of that truck and running to him.  I will never forget holding him and hugging him until he told me I was squashing him!  I never wanted to let go of him again--and I didn't for about two days!  I remember the drive back to Jeff and the children.  I remember Conner telling me that he was trying to find us by following the ice cream truck tracks up the beach.  I remember him looking up and taking my chin in his little hands, explaining that he did the right thing.  He was a big boy.  He had gone to the lifeguard for help.  I remember the cheers of strangers when Conner ran to his Daddy.  I remember Jeff scooping him up into his arms.  Such joy.  Such peace.  Such relief. 

God actively searches for us when we stray from Him.  He does not consider that we are only "one," and that He has plenty other children.  He knows me well.  He knows you well.  He wants to be with us at all times, so that we are not lost.  We are not alone.  We are not without Him.   A Father's love for His children is shown through His desire for all of us to be found. 

Something so dear.  Something so lost.  Something so special.  Something found.  Something so precious, that once found,  joy can not be contained.  That's how important we are to God.  God will do more than light a lamp or sweep the floor to find a lost coin.  God will do more than search the beach or jump from a beach patrol truck to run to His child.   God will come to you wherever you are; whatever time; whatever situation.  God knows.  God understands.  God forgives.  God wants you with Him today -- and for eternity.

In the words of a beautiful song -  How deep the Father's love for us--How vast beyond all measure!

Thank you God, for being such an attentive and loving Father to your children!

A Lesson on Lostness -- Part 1

One of the perks of my job is that, in addition to teaching 5th grader Social Studies and Language Arts, I also get to teach Bible.  It is such a blessing to be at a Christian school where we can pray as a class; talk about God as a class; and read the Bible.  This semester, we have been studying the parables of Jesus.  I have always loved studying the parables, and I love teaching them just as much!  Jesus was the Master Teacher, and He spoke in parables to assist his disciples in better understanding His message.  I learned as a child that a parable is "an earthly story with a heavenly meaning."  The truths Jesus taught two thousand years ago are just as valuable and viable today.  Maybe even more so.

In Luke 15, Jesus deals with the idea of "lostness." He illustrates his point with a story of a lost coin, a story of a lost sheep, and a story of a lost (prodigal) son.   Jesus spoke on this theme to show us that God really cares for those who are away from him.  He will actively search for His children that are away from Him.

I remember a Bible lesson many years ago on the lost sheep.  It was in a pre-school Sunday School class.  We glued cotton on our little lambs, and they were all part of the story.  My little lamb was chosen to become the "lost" sheep.  As Mrs. Moore, my Bible teacher began the story, I became very sad.  I got so upset, as I watched her put my little white lamb to the far side of the flannel board, far away from the shepherd.  I was probably four years old, and I remember Mrs. Moore's reassurance,  telling me to just wait for the end of the story.  I was elated when the Shepherd found my lamb and brought it back with the others.

Jesus is the Good Shepherd, and so many times, we act like dumb sheep.  We wander, and we find ourselves lost.  We are in a foreign place, and we are lost, confused, and desperate.  How did we get here?  How do we get back on the right track?  How did life become such a mess?  Where is the loving Shepherd?

He will "leave the other ninety-nine" in order to search for the "one" that is lost.  That idea is amazing.  That "one" REALLY matters.  That "one" has been me many times during my life, and it probably has been you, as well.  Sometimes I think we forget about how important we are to God.  How important I am.  How important you are.  He knows us intimately--down to the number of hairs on our head.  And He wants us near Him, and He wants to be near to us.

He doesn't rationalize that the lost "one" doesn't matter.  He doesn't settle for the "ninety-nine" sheep that are safely in the fold.  He knows the one that is missing, and He lovingly searches for it, and brings it back.  He doesn't kick it, and scold it about wandering.  He doesn't threaten that it better not happen again.  He doesn't bring up the other fifty times it has been lost in the past.  He lays it around His shoulders and carries it home.  He calls in friends and neighbors to join in the rejoicing over the one that was lost, and is now found.

Sometimes God may use us to seek out a sheep that has gone astray.  We need to be ready and willing to be part of His search party in actively looking for that little lost lamb.  We need to imitate the actions of the Shepherd and lovingly bring those who have strayed away back into the fold.  It is not our job to judge or condemn a wayward child of God.  It is our duty to show him his extreme importance to the Father.  It is our duty to show her that God wants her back, and that we want her back.  Too many times Christians seem to "kick" fellow believers "when they're down."  Well-known minister, Rick Warren, tweeted recently that "The Church is a hospital for suffering sinners, not a hotel for smug saints."  How true!  As Christians, we are sometimes guilty of "shooting" our walking wounded rather than truly ministering to them.   

As the years have passed, I don't know what ever happened to my little cottony lamb.  My mother kept it in a memories box for many years, but somehow it became lost, once again.  Even without it, the story is permanently imprinted on my heart.  What a gift we have in knowing that we can never be so far away from God that He cannot find us, and we can return to His fold. 

What a Difference a Day Makes

 

Twenty-four hours.   One thousand four hundred forty minutes.   Eighty six thousand four hundred seconds.   Not a lot of time in the “big picture” of things, but enough time for changes.  Some changes for a lifetime.

Yesterday, children got out of bed eagerly anticipating Friday, a fun day at school as the week winds down and the weekend begins.  Yesterday, children got up and ate breakfast.  Yesterday, children picked out their own outfits for school.  Yesterday, children ran into the schoolhouse, laughing and talking with classmates.  Yesterday, children greeted their teachers as they walked into class. Yesterday, children put up their backpacks and sat down at their desks to begin what seemed to be like any other Friday.  Yesterday, children wondered why someone was shooting off firecrackers in the school building.  Yesterday, some children saw their last Friday on this earth.   Yesterday, some children experienced a horror that no one should ever have to experience.  Yesterday, some children’s lives were snuffed out in an instance.  Yesterday, some children’s idea of innocence was forever shattered.  Yesterday, some children witnessed images that will be with them for the rest of their lives.

Yesterday, parents got out of bed with the same routine of most days.  Yesterday, parents woke up being thankful for Friday, a day of excitement (even for parents) as the workweek ends, and anticipation of the weekend.  Yesterday, parents prepared pancake breakfasts and packed peanut butter and jelly lunches.  Yesterday, parents reminded their children to get their backpacks and school supplies for the day.  Yesterday, parents and children planned a weekend of dinners out, movies, and Santa visits at the mall.  Yesterday, parents hugged little necks goodbye for the day, and some goodbye for eternity.  Yesterday, parents went to work; went to the grocery store; went about their lives---just like any other Friday.  Yesterday, parents had no idea that this Friday would end up being much different that any other Friday. 

Yesterday, teachers got out of bed; ready to go to school and teach the children in their classes.  Yesterday, these teachers probably anticipated the weekend, but even more so, the upcoming holiday break.  Yesterday, teachers probably got to school early to plan and prepare for the day.  Yesterday, teachers welcomed kindergarteners with smiles and laughter.  Yesterday, teachers began the school day with enthusiasm and dedication that only teachers have.  Yesterday, teachers heard gunshots.  Yesterday, teachers ran straight toward a gunman, only to be shot down in his path.   Yesterday, teachers locked doors and hid students.  Yesterday, teachers shielded students, while laying down their own lives.  Yesterday, some teachers became heroes.  Yesterday, some teachers became memories.

Yesterday, a monster gunned down his mother in her home.  Yesterday, a monster drove to a school and forced his way inside.  Yesterday, a monster methodically and purposely walked down school hallways, and killed teachers.  Yesterday, a monster walked into full classrooms and executed children at will.  Yesterday, a monster took the cowardly way out by turning his own gun on himself. 

Today, children are in shock.  Today, children have lost innocence forever.  Today, children wonder “why?”  Today, children are afraid to go to school.  Today, children are without classmates, teachers, and parents.  Today, children are not concerned with Santa Claus or Christmas.  Today, children know the feeling of heart break.

Today, parents are in denial of how such a tragedy could have occurred.   Today, some parents have lost the light of their lives.  Today, some parents want to die.  Today, some parents would give anything just to be able to turn back time.  Today, some parents don’t know how to go on living.  Today, some parents blame God.  Today, some parents blame guns.  Today, some parents are too numb to feel anything.

Today, teachers worry that this could happen at any school, anywhere.  Today, teachers eagerly await Monday, when they can go to school and hug those precious students a little longer.  Today, some teachers are afraid to go back into the classroom.  Today, some teachers are being called heroes because of the immense bravery and dedication they exhibited in a time of crisis.  Today, some teachers are remembered for the wonderful people they were, and will continue to be in the hearts of those who so dearly loved them. 

Today, a monster has a name and a face on national television.  Today, a monster is dead, but few people mourn the loss.  Today, a monster is said to have been mentally unstable.  Today, a monster has rocked a nation to its core.  

Twenty-four hours.  One thousand four hundred forty minutes.  Eighty six thousand four hundred seconds.   Not a lot of time in the “big picture” of things, but enough time for changes.  Some changes for a lifetime.

"Mr. Bill"

There are some people that we meet in this life that truly change us forever.  Whether they are in our lives for years, months, or just a season, their "mark" in unmistakable, and it remains with us always.

"Mr. Bill" Carlisle, as my children have always called him, was such a person.  I remember meeting him around twelve years ago.  He, along with his sweet wife, June, had begun worshiping at our local congregation.  I knew they both loved music, and I so enjoyed getting to know them as fellow members of our praise team.  Bill had a quiet, unassuming way when I first met him.  He was soft spoken and genuine.  As I got to know him, I learned of his comical side, and how he loved a good prank or joke.  From his flaming red suit to his rockabilly stage presence, Bill was one of a kind!

Bill was a genuine joy to be around, and he loved his family, his friends, and his music.  As part of the Grand Ole Opry for decades with his father (Jumping Bill Carlisle, Sr.), he was a master musician.  He had a beautiful bass voice, and loved to use it in our praise songs at church.

Bill was probably the kindness man I've ever known! When he became a business associate of my husband's, he used to brighten our days quite often.  I was working with Jeff at the time, and many days we would be working away, and we would hear a "vroom-vroom" outside. It would be Bill, pulling up on his motorcycle. He was just coming by to see us, sit and have a cup of coffee. He would sit in the front office with me, and tell stories and jokes, while Jeff, and his partner, Tim, were busy with the everyday life of financial planning/insurance business. He'd stop his stories if I had to answer the phone or greet another customer, and then he'd just continue from there. He might sit there and talk for an hour or so, and then just get up, and say, "Well, I guess I better let you get back to work!" Just sweet Bill in his loving and unassuming way!

A little over two years ago, Bill's and Jane's lives were forever changed after a tragic motorcycle accident.  The doctors were astounded that Bill lived through the trauma, but he did.  Paralyzed from the neck down, Bill's spirit never waivered.  His faith in God never left him.  His love for June never grew any dimmer, and her love and devotion to him seemed to grow every day.  He spoke in a breathy voice, but he said was "here" to do God's work as long as God wanted him "here."  He was ready to "go home" two years ago, but Bill still had a lot of teaching to do with us.  

These past two years, he has taught us so much from a bed and a wheelchair.  He taught my boys that you never give up no matter what happens to you.  When they both saw him shortly after the accident in a rehabilitation hospital in Atlanta, it really bothered them.  They had been used to seeing him so active--singing on stage, or riding his bike.  I remember Conner asking me if I thought "Mr. Bill" would ever get to play his guitar again.  

Well, Bill never physically played that guitar again.  His body failed him over the past two years, and we prayed that somehow God would heal him, and we could have him back just like before.  That was not God's plan for Bill.  God's plan was for Bill to stay with us for a short time longer.  Then, last week, God's plan was for Bill to leave us.  God's plan was for Bill to come "home" to Him.  Bill always knew that God's plan was so much greater than ours.  

So, this week, we will all say goodbye to Bill, and we will celebrate a life well lived on this earth.  A Godly man, who honored God even in a tragic circumstance.  A Godly wife, who showed us the meaning of true commitment and love for a spouse.  Bill has gone away from us, but he has truly changed those who knew him forever.  Our season with Bill is over for now, but so much of him  remains with us always.

My Jeff put it in a sweet way when I called him to tell us Bill had left us.  Jeff said that he could just imagine Bill "jumping for joy" with a new body and no more pain.  I imagine him, guitar in hand, grinning from ear to ear, and telling a joke to the angels!  Heaven is all the sweeter with Bill Carlisle there, and I look forward to seeing him again some day!

Sundays in the South

Sundays have always held an extreme importance in my life.  Sundays are special everywhere--but especially in the South.  Worship.  Family dinners.  Fellowship dinners on the grounds.  Rocking chair talks.  Good times.  Much needed relaxation.  From the time I was a little girl, Sundays have meant family.  Family worshiping together.  Family meals together.  Family time--just being together.

In recent years, Sundays have taken on new meanings.  With Katie, now 22, living away from us in a group home, Sunday is her day with us.  Her day for coming home; chilling out; and eating bread.  Yes, that sounds odd, but it's true.  Several of her roommates deal with diabetes, so their carbohydrates are limited overall in the group meals.  So on Sunday, she gets to "break the bread" with us literally!  From "Sister Shuebert" rolls to biscuits, she dives right in!  The biggest bread binge yet was tonight--5 "Hungry Jack" biscuits with meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and fried okra!  (Topped off with homemade oatmeal raisin cookies!!)  It does a "momma" good to see her babies eat, and Katie does just that!  She is such a blessing to us, and her joy, despite her disabilities, continues to strengthen my faith in God's plan for her, and for us, as her parents!

In recent weeks, Sundays mean Colton going back to college if he has come home for the weekend.  I don't believe that weekends have ever gone by so quickly, and this mom dreads Sunday evening because it means my boy is going back to west Tennessee.  I'm so very proud of him because he has oriented into college in an amazing way!  But, every time he leaves, a little piece of my heart goes with him.  The rest of my heart smiles for his accomplishments and the life he has before him. 

Tonight, Conner is still gone on a church trip, but we will be getting him in a couple of hours.  Mom's ready to see her baby, and I know he will have stories to tell from his retreat weekend!  But, the house is quiet for now.  The laughter that was here just a while ago is now silent.  So, my heart is a little sad; however, it is more glad than sad.  Glad that we have Sundays to worship the Father.  Glad that we have Sundays to be with family.  Glad that we have Sundays to recharge for the week ahead.  Glad that I have all the happy memories of Sundays past, and glad that I have the hope of many more Sundays in the future.  But most of all, glad that I had today--a particularly beautiful Sunday in the South!

A Painful Paradox

Batman has been a staple of American youth from comic book days to Adam West's portrayal of the caped hero during my childhood.  I learned the literary term "onomatopoeia" by the use of "BOOM" and "WHAM" from the televised "Batman" series!

From the time he was a little tike, my son, Colton, has LOVED Batman.  From lunch boxes to backpacks to birthday party themes, Batman has been part of his 18 years of life.  (Little brother, Conner, always had to be Robin!) 

For weeks now, the excitement over the new Batman movie has been evident in our house.  This movie premier would be one of the final times Colton and his high school friends would hang out before going their separate ways to college.  A planned night out with buddies and a beloved youth group coach was planned, and tickets purchased weeks in advance to the midnight IMAX presentation.  Batman costumes were bought, and a great night of fun for all was almost here!

I'm sure this scene was repeated throughout the country yesterday.  In Nashville.  In Atlanta.  In San Diego.  And in Aurora.

But another scene was also repeated yesterday.  A scene of violence.  A scene of cowardice.  A scene of hatred.  A scene of terror.  A scene of fear.  A scene of contempt.  A scene of horror.  A scene of murder and mayhem.  

Twenty four hours ago, a young man was planning a horrific crime at a movie theater.  Guns were loaded.  Ammunition was bought.  Black clothing and a gas mask were readied.  A plan of immense terror was calculated in the mind of a supposedly "normal" guy.  The parents, teenagers, children, and movie workers had no idea of his plan as they stood in line last night for the midnight premier.  They laughed.  They talked.  They anxiously anticipated what they believed would be a great next three hours of their lives.  Little did they know that their excitement would soon turn to survival as they scurried for their lives away from his random bullets. 

Earlier this week, there was speculation that this movie might just break box office records of all time.  People throughout the country enjoyed the long awaited Batman sequel just a few hours ago.    My son and his friends sat in a theater in Hendersonville, Tennessee.  They sang the praises of the movie, and they walked out of the theater alive.   Other innocent people sat in Theater 9 in Aurora, Colorado, and they did not. 

"Can You Hear Me Now?" -- God

Television commercials have always amazed me.  The creative advertising minds seem to really know what sells, and what doesn't!  Most of us have seen the popular cell phone commercial with the nerdy guy repeatedly asking, "Can you hear me now?  Can you hear me now?  Can you hear me NOW????"

 This ad appeals to ANYONE who has ever experienced a dropped call or an infamous "dead zone".  Constant communication has become an apparent necessity in our lives today.  Our cell phone is as important as our wallet, and we wouldn't dare leave home without it!  It is our life line.  An hour without a call, text or Twitter update has us worried that our cell battery is not fully charged.  We live in the communication age, and instantaneous communication has simplified our lives.  (Really?)

Cell carriers jockey for our business promising the best service; biggest screen size; and boldest apps.  It is essential that we have the latest and greatest device on the market that will ensure 24/7 communication at our fingertips.  At any given time in our home, one might see my husband scanning YouTube (he's addicted!); my oldest son playing Song Pop; my youngest son playing Xbox Live; and me checking my email--ALL ON OUR PHONES!  We are 100% sold on this communication revolution. And I don't think our family is alone!  I'm not certain of any reason why we need to have a cell phone growing out of our ear or hand, but it seems we do.

In thinking of the humorous, "Can you hear me now?" slogan, I cannot help but think of God saying those words to me.

"Darlene, can you hear me now?  Can you stop for just a moment?  Darlene, can you make a little time for me?  Darlene, can you stop texting long enough to hear what I have to say?  Darlene, I'm your Father, and I want to talk with you."

And my answer:

"Well, yes, God.  Of course, I hear you.  I know you are here, but can you hurry?  I'm expecting a text, and I have a stack of papers to grade.  I've got to help Conner with Algebra, and I've got to get dinner cooked.  You know, I am only one person!  Everybody expects so much from me!  You know, my life is just so busy.  I love you, God, but can I call you back a little later?" 

Sometimes amid the busyness of life, we just don't hear Him.  It's not necessarily that we cannot hear Him, possibly, we just won't hear Him.   Maybe we choose not to hear Him, or just don't make (or take) the time to hear Him.  The gifts He has given us--a family, a home, a job, good friends.  All of these things are wonderful, but sometimes we get too lost in life to hear from Him, our Creator.

Psalms 46:10 tells us, "Be still and know that I am God."

Be still.  How hard is that?  We are NEVER still.  Our bodies are on the move constantly.  We have errands to run; children to taxi; groceries to buy; emails to send, and reality television to watch.  Our minds race with thoughts of all we have to do.  Those thoughts are often a jumbled mess of not really knowing what we need to do first on our "to do" lists.  We toss and turn in bed at night thinking of all that we have to do "tomorrow," and all that we did not finish "today."

How can we "be still" and listen for God, when we live in such a hurried life?  We are taught to multitask, and to use every minute of time we have.   We don't have time to sit and listen for God.  We don't have time to simply stop and talk with Him in prayer.

All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work.               (2 Timothy 3: 16-17 NIV)

God speaks to us through His Word any time we want to hear Him.  The answer to any of life's problems can be found in His Word, if we just take the time to look.  His Word is as fresh today as it was two thousand years ago, if we just allow it to quench our spirit.

Satan will allow our lives to become so bustled and busy that we don't seem to have time for God.  That's his plan, but it is not God's plan.

So, amid your busy life, make sure to take some time for rest.  Take some time for revival of your spirit.  Be still, and know that God is calling to you.

Can you hear Him now?