Spiritual Growth

Pining for the Moon

As a kid, I had several albums of stories told by animated readers. My brothers and sisters and I would gather around our little blue record player, crank up the volume, and sit spellbound as we listened.

I vividly remember one called, The Boy in the Moon. A deep male voice told the story of a little boy who lived with his loving family in a land far away. The boy had everything and yet, nothing made him happy. Nightly his father asked him what was wrong. And mournfully the boy pointed up to the heavens and said,

“I want the moon papa, I want the moon.”

Ladder to the MoonThe story goes on to tell how after years of seeing his son unhappy, the father decides to grant the boys wish. So one night he puts the boy in a boat and rows and rows until they reach the place where the ocean meets the sky. There they find the ladder that leads to the moon.

The father kisses his son and sadly watches as he begins his climb. For the rest of the father’s life he misses him, but is comforted by waving at the moon, knowing his boy is happy.

Boy in the MoonEach time I listened to that story, I thought it was the dumbest thing I ever heard. All my life I wanted a loving father. And the thought of a child leaving a happy family to go live all alone on the moon seemed so stupid to me. I never could see what the moon had to offer over a father whose greatest desire was to see his son happy.

I always wanted to rewrite that story. I wanted it to end with the boy coming to his senses. I imagined him dangling from that ladder until a boat comes by to take him home. I imagined the look of joy on the father’s face knowing his son finally realized there is nothing greater than a family, not even the fulfillment of his wildest dream.

Prodigal SonI hate to think how much time I’ve wasted pining after dreams, that if fulfilled, would have been a disaster. How grateful I am for a loving Father who has many times, patiently waited for me to come home. And each time I do, He runs out to greet me.

How about you? What dreams are you chasing? Is it time for you to turn around and go home?

Passing the Baton
AJM & Grandfather 1

Uncle Eugene and Aunt Jeanne Marie 1980’s

About thirty years ago, after spending a day touring the sights in San Francisco, I sat down at my Aunt Jeanne Marie’s dining room table while she busied herself in the kitchen.

The table was clear except for a small very thick photo album I’d never seen before. I slid it in front of me and opened it to the first page. There sitting neatly in its plastic sleeve was a picture of my mother. On the next page was a picture of my brother Jim, his wife, and their three kids. Page after page, a new family appeared, including mine. We were all there, including Uncle Eugene’s sister and her families.

Aunt Jeanne Marie came in from the kitchen and sat across from me.

“Oh you found my prayer book. I find it so much easier to pray for someone if I have a picture of them in front of me.

I smiled as I turned the last page to a formal picture of then President Ronald Reagan.

“Oh, you know the bible says we’re to pray for our leaders, so I pray for him too.”

Now I’d like to say I went straight home and made me a prayer book of my family’s photos. And that each day I took it out and prayed diligently over each member. But I didn’t. At that time, my prayer life consisted more of desperate pleas for God to remove me from my latest trial.

But lately, I can’t stop thinking about that little photo album. And the idea that for most of my life, well probably all of it, Aunt Jeanne Marie has prayed for me.

TPDFrank Peretti’s compelling novel, This Present Darkness, tells of a demon invasion of a small American town. And whom do those demons fear? The tiny “remnant” of saints whose greatest weapon is prayer. And the one they fear the most is an old lady named Edith. When she begins to pray for that town, the demons recoil in fear.

The bible says we struggle not with flesh and blood, but with powers of this dark world, and spiritual forces in heavenly realms. Perhaps Frank Peretti’s story is truer than we’d like to think. And if it is, we need more remnants in constant prayer for our families and our towns.

DSCN0224_0004

My Granddaughter Jo with Aunt Jeanne Marie, 2010

Aunt Jeanne Marie is in her late 80’s. And I’m convinced when she begins her prayers, evil forces in heavenly realms have to withdraw. And the weakening of her physical body does not deter the strength of her spirit. And daily she goes to war for the souls of the ones she loves.

As I contemplate the future of my family, I realize my generation needs to pick up that baton. We need to prepare to do battle in spiritual places. To build remnants who understand the scope of the fight. To prepare to walk through the valley of the shadow of death and fear no evil. Are you in?

 

 

 

 

 

King David Did Not Deserve That Son

In 1972, when we were dating, Tim had a startling encounter with Jesus. It happened when he ran into a man he had wronged. Expecting a punch, the man instead reached for Tim’s hand and said, “I forgive you, I love you, and I want to tell you about something.”

Tim 1972

Tim 1972

For the next several months, Paul and his wife Ann shared with us their stories of faith. And Tim quickly accepted Christ, and then encouraged me to do the same.

Now I’d like to say, Tim changed and radically pursued God. That he led those around him in bible studies and church attendance. But he didn’t. For the next 35 or so years, save a big crisis, Tim’s faith stayed in the shadows.

On top of that, he famously bent the rules. All without a shred of shame.

Many times, as I struggled with my own faith, I questioned his. “Do you ever think faith is a big hoax?” I’d ask. “Do you ever doubt there is a God?”

His answer was always an emphatic, “No!” God was real, and that was all there was to it. But that faith didn’t motivate Tim to change the way he lived.

But when Tim got cancer, his faith kicked in. Although a drive across town, sent pain ripping through his body, he refused to miss a Sunday church service. Nausea that would keep the average person in bed, couldn’t keep him away from our small group meetings.

His greatest source of peace came from the bible. When the pain became unbearable, he’d beg me to read it to him. When I could no longer stay up, he’d put on earphones and listen to an audio version all night long.

IMG_0006

Tim 2008

A peace came over him in spite of his diagnosis. It drew people to him and it inspired everyone around him, including me.

So this past Sunday when our pastor preached on the life of Solomon, it reminded me of Tim.

Because, really, King David never deserved that son. After all, he’d turned His back on God. And in that turning, he committed adultery and murder. And I get it that the consequence was the loss of one son. But then God gave the adulterer and the adulteress another. And the bible says right there in 2 Samuel, that they named him Solomon, and the Lord loved him.

In Tim, I saw first hand that kind of grace. A grace that never keeps score. That never says, “Sorry, you haven’t given enough.” That gives the full portion for no reason other than we’ve acknowledged the giver.

I think all our life, God waits for us to acknowledge Him. And His patience is epic. And His love for us is beyond measure.

It was beautiful to see God pursue Tim. And it was beautiful to see Tim acknowledge God.

If you don’t know Him, will you turn around? I promise, if you seek Him, He will be found. And He will change your life for eternity. Don’t wait. Do it today.


 

 

Rule Followers vs Rule Benders

I had an incident recently where I felt rejected by someone I love. I can’t say I understand what prompted it, but it was clear.

Now, my life over the past several years has certainly been an uncomfortable bed to lie in. And consequences for bad choices have cost me dearly. And my loss has made me needy.tencommandments

But over the past forty plus years, I’ve learned Christians basically fall into two groups – rule followers and rule benders.

Years ago I worked with a Christian man who was engaged to a beautiful young lady. In conversation, he ran off a list of “plans” they had for their future “good” marriage. He and his fiance were all set to follow Larry Burkett’s financial advice. They were diligently going to premarital counseling. And if and when they had children, they had all the books picked out to guide them in their quest for a great family.

I remember feeling jealous as he peeled off their relationship strategy. Where was all that help when Tim and I got married? I remember thinking, really God? Couldn’t you have guided us a little better.

But I’ve learned following Jesus isn’t as easy as obeying a set of rules. And consequences are painful, but so is empty obedience. Because most of our sin is buried deep within our souls, and rules will not flush them out. And if my real purpose in being good is to avoid the consequences, then I miss the whole point of grace.

Now I’m old enough to finally be done as a rule bender. And I welcome the peace that obedience can bring. But I also understand the danger in allowing myself to become prideful over my good behavior. That it’s easy to look on those mired in a pit, and feel superior.

I recently discussed this with a dear friend who’s been a rule follower all her life. And she wisely said to me,

“You know, lately I’ve wondered if I ever really loved Jesus like I should. I think I’ve always been good because I was afraid not to be.”

And therein lies the root of the problem. It’s all about our motivation.

I’ve noticed amongst some Christians a growing division between rule followers and rule benders. It’s even tearing families apart. Rule followers want more focus on obedience and benders want to point to everyone’s need for grace.

But somewhere, we’re all supposed to come together and represent Christ. And I struggle with either sides need to protect their position by alienating the other. After all, no matter what we do, we’re all filthy sinners.

Someone once said, the true opposite of love isn’t the passionate intensity of hate, but the emptiness of indifference. And how often, in our need to protect our position, do we build that wall of indifference around ourselves?

So today I pray, Lord, say it isn’t so in me.

Photo Therapy

Going throughDaniel 3 years old an old box of photos, I ran across this picture of Daniel. There’s something about the ordinariness of this moment and the sleepiness in his eyes, that melts this mother’s heart. I want to reach right in there and rub that bare little back again.

I also found this picture of Kelly and suddenly, the memory of our morning ritual of combing and braiding her hair came flooding bacDaniel & Kelly 1979k. I can vividly remember the posture of her body as she leaned against me as I stroked her long brown hair. Our conversation was usually soft and gentle as we prepared for the day.

Picture after picture took me back years. Each one represented a moment in time. There were vacations to the beach and the mountains. Graduations, birthdays, and holidays. Through pictures I could relive my children’s entire childhood.

I have a vast collection of memories built up over the years. My mind has recorded them in brilliant detail. Unfortunately, it has hung onto the bad ones as well.

But, we can choose the thoughts that wander in and out of our minds. Even something as simple as the look in my son’s eyes, or the many mornings spent in gentle quiet conversation with my daughter, can have a powerful effect on me. Such uneventful moments that years later still have the ability to bless my life.

Kelly, Ellen, Daniel 1982I have been told when we relive a memory; our bodies physically experience that moment all over again. Just thinking about past episodes of anger, rage, or tragedy causes all the wear and tear on our bodies that we suffered the first time we lived through the event. Our bodies are unaware that we are not in the midst of the moment again.

Unfortunately, it seems more difficult to select the memories that will heal us as opposed to those that bring us more harm.

I suppose that is why the Bible urges us to bring every thought captive to the will of God. Daily, we have to choose our good memories over our bad.

Photographs are a great opportunity to trigger those moments. If you have them in boxes, take them out and put them in albums. If you have them in albums, take them out and explore their magic. Hang them on your walls. Relive them one by one until your heart is full. I promise you, it will be a great source of therapy.