"The Sweetest Gift of All"

The Christmas Celebration has come and gone. Relatives are heading home and the tree is a little bare. For many the Christmas celebration is bittersweet. It is a time to celebrate the Savior's birth, however it can be a time of reflecting upon the shadow of the loss of a loved one. A spouse, parent, child, friend, the ones passed on who leave that vacant spot on Christmas day. A good friend shared a music video that speaks to that reality. It was a source of comfort for me. Perhaps it will be for you as well. Consider it a belated Christmas gift from Torah Paranoia.

I Never Want to "Get Over It"

We live in a world that abounds with comings and goings. The truth is, things in life are subject to change. From the simple things that wear out, like the toaster oven, refrigerator or technology that seems to come and go overnight. These sort of things are fairly easy to deal with. Most of us do not develop a deep meaningful relationship with a blender, though I have known people to get pretty attached to their cars. However, when it comes to people that is a different story. The comings and going of people can be more challenging to deal with. Social media can ease the parting with face-time and Instagram. But, no amount of technology can help when the parting comes through death. Death is a very real part of the lives we live. And with the passing of years it becomes an all too frequent visitor. It is these times of loss that we are called to cope with. We have grief ministries, and stages of grief and reminders that, "Time heals all wounds". Well, maybe time just dulls the pain a little. By the grace of God healing does come, yet the scars may linger longer than we thought possible. Well meaning friends are there to encourage us to move on. To get on with life and, with time, to get over it. Initial grief and sorrow is expected and comfort is readily available. That first anniversary of the passing often comes with comforting words and empathy. However, beyond that we are expected to get past the loss and begin to start fresh. With the Lord's help, of course.

But what if, in some ways, we are not supposed to get over it? What if God has other ideas of what to do with loss? The Apostle Paul tells those in Thessalonica, "But I do not want you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning those who have fallen asleep, lest you sorrow as others who have no hope" (1 Thessalonians 4:13). So we are not to sorrow as those who have no hope. Yet, we are allowed to sorrow. We are allowed to fell sadness. And there does not seem to be some set time limit as to how we can feel this way. I do not see a "Well, it's time to get over it. You've felt sad long enough." I am not talking about a debilitating grief that makes us bedridden as we wait to die. There is, or should be, some expected healing from God's Spirit as we cope with the loss. However, deep relationships are replete with abundant triggers of memories and special thoughts of the one who is gone. As believers, we know where our loved one is. We have the hope of the resurrection, we know they would not want us to be consumed with sorrow. However, are we intended to just get over years of special occasions that are special only to the ones who shared the moment?

I for one do not want to get over it. I am past the sorrow of a lost friend, at least for the most part. I have the full comfort of what God has provided. However, there are times when I miss the, "I am so frustrated right now!" phone call. I miss long talks in the parking lot. I miss knowing someone always has my back. I miss Dunkin Donuts conversations, ice cream at Friendly's and knowing he was just around the corner. I don't get sad quite the way I did at first but I never want to become calloused to the memories that somehow keep the friendship alive. We were not designed by God to go through life alone. I am blessed with a loving, remarkable, supportive, wife, and she is cute on top of that. I cannot imagine life without her. I have also been blessed with a number of friendships, some more like brothers than friends. However, I have only been blessed once with the kind of friendship that has been taken from me. I do not want to get over it. It was a special gift and blessing from the Lord. I want to treasure the memories. Be prompted to relive some moments when we laughed, enjoyed some music and were burdened for our children.  I want to celebrate some answers to prayer that we shared before he went home. I want to feel the prompting to pray for his wife and children and grandchildren, just like when he was here.  I am beyond grateful for the years of friendship and having a brother in the Lord that I may never experience again. So, no, I don't want to get over it. I want to treasure it. I want to remember it for even the pain of loss is something we had shared before. He was truly a gift from God. Why would I ever want to get over it?

God's Painful Pearls

Do you ever get frustrated with your brain? It is s remarkable tool God has provided. However, it seems to have a mind of its own, wandering into thought patterns that cause discomfort. I would like to have a disciplined brain. One that reflects the Apostle Paul's claim, "We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ" (2 Corinthians 10:5). My brain is more of the "free range" sort of brain, meandering about and finding bits of garbage to feed on. I am grateful for the indwelling Spirit to poke my brain to flee the garbage and get back into the protection of God's hen house I just wish it did not wander to begin with. Time on this planet is limited and wasted with absurd notions, which encourages me to gently tap my head against the nearest wall. Things like, "If I won the $387,000,000 lottery I would ..." knowing this will never happen as I never buy lottery tickets. Yet, there goes my inner being listing the charities, ministries, and people I would be able to bless. The trips to Israel and then follow the Apostle Paul's route through the Middle East, Greece and onto Rome. Books I could purchase, like the Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, and works of the Ante-Nicene Fathers. Then I snap back to where my mind was suppose to be and I focus on the necessary task at hand.

Perhaps more frustrating are the darker thoughts. Hurts that come back with vivid clarity. Temptations that just do not seem to take a permanent departure but poke out through the recessed folds of my mind. They remind me of that thorn Paul spoke of to the Corinthians, "And lest I should be exalted above measure by the abundance of the revelations, a thorn in the flesh was given to me, a messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I be exalted above measure" (2 Corinthians 12:7). I do not experience the exaltation or abundant revelation, but I can relate to the thorn and Satan's buffeting. It would just be so wonderful to be completely free from such needless thoughts and the wasted time dealing with them. They are like covert pieces of sand in the soles of my cerebral cortex; they slip in and distract me with their irritating fragments of things I dealt with long ago. I have studied, taught the Scriptures, acquired a few degrees, meditated and prayed and the old seeds of doubt and failure still sprout from my memories and send me down mental trails of discouragement. I do not live there, but, the unwanted weeds still return to my mind and need to be extricated before they take root.

Going back to Paul's personal illustration of the thorn I have some hope. There was a purpose for the pain. It kept the Apostle dependent upon the Lord. Without it Paul could have succumbed to the pride that would have damaged his ministry. Perhaps I need to view these irritations as that grain of sand lodged in the tender parts of my mind. I coat them with prayer and tears and lean on the Lord for victory. Yet, it seems the irritating grain remains. So I coat it with another layer of prayer, reminded again of just how vulnerable I am. Over time the prayer coatings have smoothed off the rough edges of the memory, even if it has not been removed. As the years go by, the prayer coatings continue as this memory, though faded, lets me know it will not go away. In the process I have become more dependent upon the Lord. More aware of my own weaknesses. The realization of needed prayer and dependence comes more easily. The barbed irritation has become a pearl of great value. No longer tearing at my mind with painful memories, it is a gentle pressure that reminds me that my life is in God's hands. Whatever the pain or failure the Lord can use the sand to make a pearl of dependence in my life. It can help me see the pain of others and offer comfort from the pearl still lodged in my own mind.

My mind still wanders into stupid things. Moments lost with mindless day dreams and a few vain imaginations. Maybe my brain just needs a momentary vacation from the challenging realities of life. However, the truly painful moments, the darkest barbs delivered by Satan are becoming valued pearls. Pearls made of the ongoing salve provided by God's Spirit as I pray and trust in Him.

Perhaps, I am not alone. It may well be that some great pain, or loss, or failure invaded your life. The painful barbs in your mind have become a source nearing despair. Whatever the cause, like the Apostle Paul's thorn, it can become a pearl of dependence and even victory. The Lord can remove the anguish and smooth off the edges of those thoughts and memories. Coated with prayerful tears the Lord can heal and help you see that He can work through even this to enrich your walk with Him. Even more, He can then use you to help others build pearls out of pain. As was true with the Apostle, God's strength can work in our weakness. Our pain and failures can become God's pearl of great price. The difficult question is, "will we let Him?"

"What Now?"

The intensity of the past twenty-five days has been somewhat replaced with the dulling metronome of daily responsibilities. However, it does not remove the shadow of the Tom-shaped loss that will now be a part of my existence. I would like to be more like David. To respond like he did in 2 Samuel 12. After agonizing in prayer and fasting over the declining condition of his infant son, David is confronted with the child's death. He gets up from his earnest but unanswered plea, bathes, eats and moves on with life. When asked how he can do this, David replies, “But now he is dead; why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me" (2 Samuel 12:23). David simply trusts God and moves on. I know the truth that David did, but it seems my emotional fasting has continued. I do and will miss my friend. My thought is that this loss will only become more real in the coming days, not less. I am still consoled and wrapped up in the protective shroud of the "peace that passes all understanding" but I am far from joining David in Psalm 30:11, "You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness."  The abrasive sackcloth of a loss I have yet to fully comprehend chafes at my soul.

"What now?"

Now I will live each day with the memories of what has been. I will sort through the plethora of words and feelings that consumed my life these past few days. I will remember that Sunday the 4th of December has additional meaning with the memory of hundreds of people gathering to pay tribute and honor a man who had touched their lives. A simple man who simply live out the love of Christ in his every day contact with people. I will remember the broken hearts of his family as they shared those intimate memories of a husband and father and brother. I will remember the many who stood to recount Tom's life of love and grace personified. The hymn "Majesty" will now always hold a special place in heart, not just for Tom but for a little guy named Louis that Tom loved. I will reflect upon the many who sought me out to tell how Tom and his compassionate  leadership at Craigville Bible Church had drawn them into a closer walk with the Savior. I will try to overlook how many of them walked away and left him behind. Such partings were never easy for him. I will remember the hugs and the friends from years past who made the trip to honor their friend and brother. It was a remarkable afternoon to honor a friend and brother who honored the God and Savior he loved.

Personally, I will remember the time squashed in an Escort, Vigilantes of Love, Friendly's, the Pizza Hut Buffet and so many talks while spreading mulch at church or piling wood into my pick-up. I will remember putting sheet rock in his stairway and Elders Meetings on his deck. I will remember praying for our children and our wives. For the joys of shared ministry and shared anguish over the pain and personal attacks that can come with leading God's flock. To know he always had my back. I will remember one of the best renditions of "Nothing but the Blood" that I have ever heard. I will remember how we recognized that we were little more than the broken stones that God, in His remarkable grace, had placed into the structure of His Temple. I will remember most of all his desire to please the Lord and his devotion to his family. Of his smile at the very mention of the woman named Jeanne that he adored. Of the pride and, at times, pain he felt for his son and daughter and the unconditional love he held for them. I will remember that, even though he was pretty sure he was right, he would hear my point of view and on occasion even change his mind.

"What Now?" I will lean on 2 Corinthians 6:2. It is a verse often misapplied by evangelicals to convince people to "Trust in Jesus to be saved today for there may not be a tomorrow".  "Behold, now is the accepted time; behold, now is the day of salvation." The word translated "salvation is the Greek soteria. It means  deliverance, preservation, and safety as well as salvation. In the context of 2 Corinthians 5 and 6, it applies to every day I exist on this planet. Not some special salvation day experience. Right now I need a daily dose of deliverance from thoughts I do not need to dwell on. I need preservation from the enemies "what if" assault. You know, those thoughts that accuse us and condemn us for not being the friend we should have been or when we should have been there or said something. Satan loves to hit us with accusatory "what ifs" when we are in pain and vulnerable so we miss the comfort and peace of God while robbing us of the memories that honor our friend. I need to know I am safely in the arms of my Savior when the emotions of loss roll over me from time to time.

"What now?" Will be spent following my friend and brother's example. We did have the distinction of having married the two most amazing women on the planet. In the midst of all this, Tom's love and devotion for Jeanne never wavered. For my part, I have been supported and held tightly in the compassion and grace of the woman who I have been privileged to call my wife for 39 years. I would have been far less together through this if not for my beloved Debbie holding me tenderly when I was too numb to even know how to feel. We both have remarkable and gifted children that held and hold a special connection in our lives. Tom honestly loved my five and I have  loved Jonathan and Melody in the love only two fathers could share. It is likely from the times of prayer, concern, and joys we often shared concerning them when we talked and ate too much pizza together. I will continue to love Christ's Bride as my brother Tom did. He had many earthly reasons to abandon his call as an Elder. However, his love for the Lord and His Bride held him true to his calling. I am forever grateful for having him at my side in all these years of ministry. Oh, and I will make sure the kids ring the bell on Sunday mornings.

It snowed here in New York last night. The ragged trees, bare bushes and dormant lawn of late fall has been painted in silver and white by the Divine Artist. "Washed whiter than snow" is our promise. One realized by my brother Tom and all who would call upon the Name of the Lord. I am at peace. "What now?" I will face each day for today is a day I will be delivered and preserved and held securely in the love of my Lord. And I will be tomorrow and the next day and the next until God takes me home. I can live with that.      

The God Who Abandons You

What do you do when God abandons you? I know that we are told that He never abandons us. It is true that Yeshua did say "I would never leave or forsake you" (Heb 13:5b) and that "He is with you even until the end of the world" (Matt 28:20). However, life does not feel that way and it hasn't for a long time. I was jarred with that reality just a week or so ago. Twelve Marines were lost in a helicopter crash off of the coast of Oahu. it could have been just another tragic news story but that was not to be. We have friends from years ago that sort of reconnected thanks to Facebook. Our children grew up together and we ministered together in the same fellowship. They are just a cool family. I know if we saw them face to face we could just pick up where we left off. Their son-in-law was on one of the choppers. He leaves their daughter and a five month old baby behind. One could ask, "Where was God?"

I have been in ministry long enough to have a mental file of these sort of events. The "God Abandoned File". In my early days of ministry I was close to a couple in our church. They found love a little later in life and were married in their early forties. They were so in love and devoted to each other it was a bit of an inspiration to those who knew them. We shared in their joy when she was found to be with child. She asked for prayer as her father was battling cancer and longed to live long enough to see his only grandson. So we prayed. And he lived. His grandson, however, lived two days and was taken. I remember standing by the tiny white casket looking at the tear filled eyes trying to make some since of it all. It was my first funeral service. There is something that will never allow that image to leave the "God Abandoned File". Words were spoken. Prayers and sorrow shared. "Let the little children come unto me" should never have been applied to such a time as this.

I know the theology and cold reality of the truth that God is love and merciful and just and sovereign. Yet, there are times when things just seem wrong. Romans 8:28 is little comfort in the midst of a spirit crushing loss. The grieving widow rests her head on my shoulder and says, "For over fifty years he greeted me each morning with a cup of coffee and a kiss. That will never happen again, I am alone." And she is. Her children will come to visit, as will friends, but each morning begins alone. A reminder of her loss. Sure we can be grateful for all those years together and the hope of eternity but she still wakes up alone. Another memory to place in the "God Abandoned File".

Somehow, I have been left with the impression, by some, that these thoughts are not to be. I should not possess such a file. We have faith to get us through. He is the God of all comfort and He loved us enough to die for us. And, yes, those verses mentioned above are still true. I just need to trust. After all I am a "believer" not a "feeler" so rest in His unchanging Word and know He is there. But these emotions are a part of His design. And, hey, it still just feels wrong. There have been times when I felt abandoned. No amount of theological reality brought much suave to the wound.

David felt this way too. Psalm 22 is his expression. We rob ourselves of the impact of David's words because we know it is a "Messianic" Psalm. These are words Messiah cried from the cross. The descriptions of a crucifixion are vivid. We gab the phrase and turn it into bad theology and make God into a Greek deity that needs to be appeased. None of these were David's thoughts. When David's soul writhed in convulsive pain I seriously doubt that he thought, "These will be great words for Messiah to call from the cross," seeing as crucifixions were not common and David never would have thought of Messiah as one who died such a horrible death. Messiah never entered David's thoughts as he penned these words.

Hear David's Words. "My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?" David feels forsaken. He feels the pain of piercing words. He trembles as if all his bones are out of joint and that a pack of ravenous dogs rip at his flesh. He feels like he is entering the dust of death. David's pain and feeling of abandonment is very real. Do not rob him, or yourself, of that truth. How did we arrive at the idea that spouting some theological trivia, no matter how true,  is proper even if it means we are flat out lying to the God who knows how we feel anyway? No, I do not understand. Yes, I do feel abandoned. No, truth isn't all that comforting. Yes, I am confused and yes I do question Your goodness. My God, why did you abandon them? Why take the child? Why the lonely abandoned mornings? God, sometimes it feels like I will never recover. I do not feel your comfort or your presence.

After all this, like David, my trust turns to the Lord. Like David, I know there is victory. Like David, I know God is still there. Like David, I will still praise God even when I do not understand. But, like David, I need those emotional outbursts. I need the freedom to express the agony of abandonment without well meaning children of God scolding me for how I feel or dropping verses I already know on top of my grieving heart. 

I really don't know why the loss of those twelve brought all this to the surface.I do pray for God's comfort to over shadow their families and for them to know His peace. However, I also pray they can have the freedom to grieve. Maybe even borrow a verse or two from David. 

We live in a wonderful yet painful world. We have an amazing, eternal, hope, through Christ Jesus our Lord. He also shares our pain. Sometimes a glimpse in the "God Abandoned File" reminds us how really human we are. Maybe it can remind us of how strong the pain can be and yet see that we have continued on by His grace. He is good after all.