Kids kids

It was about 1994. My two children, barely aged 5 and 2, were running around the church sanctuary as the worship team was practicing the songs. I let them run because nobody else was there yet for the service, but as people started to file in, I began to tighten the reins.

"People are coming in," I told them. "Time to stop running and play quietly."

They listened - for as long as small children's attention span lasts. Especially when one of them has undiagnosed ADHD. 

So they started making noises and playing under the seat. Their giggles mingled with thumps their feet made on the underside of the pew as they lay on the floor. Occasionally one of them would run around and I would have to go and catch the offending one (usually the youngest) and cart them back. 

I was getting more and more frustrated as more and more adults turned toward me and glared.

Free Image courtesy of chriswolf at Pixabay.com

One of the greeters at the entryway was a large, jovial man named Blair.  He watched the kids and saw my frustration. As I was carting my toddler back for the fourth time (it felt like the tenth), Blair touched my arm. I stopped, still holding the child under my arm like a football. By this time, the oldest was coming closer to investigate.

Blair smiled at me. "I'm going to tell you something that my kids' Ukranian grandmother said to me when our children were their age," he announced, jerking his head toward my children. He looked me straight in the eye and said slowly, "Kids kids."

I stared back at him quizzically, confused by his statement. "Kids kids?" I queried. 

He chuckled. "She didn't speak English all that well. What she meant was that children are going to be children no matter where they are. And they are children for such a short time. So let them be children." 

He grinned as I slowly grasped his meaning. He was encouraging me as a mother - saying that it wasn't so horrible of me to let my kids play - because after all, they were children! To let them be children was the best gift I could give them.

That statement helped form my (and our) parenting decisions from that time onward. If they wanted to play at church, I'd take them into the foyer (or outside if I could) and let them play themselves out, rather than subject a teacher to them fidgeting and their excess of energy. 

If they wanted to go into Cubs instead of Brownies, into Cubs they went - and excelled! The oldest wanted to go into Scouts - so we supported her when the time came. And when she decided on her own that it wasn't for her, we supported that too. 

We encouraged each of them to plunge into whatever they wanted and we didn't force them into activities they had no interest in. As a result, they decided to take swimming classes together - something their mom had never had the courage to do! The oldest was in her junior high school band for a little over three years, learned to play the flute, and dropped out of senior high school band when she got a "creepy teacher" (who eventually was discovered to be too "friendly" toward some of his girl pupils...) and the youngest discovered she had a gift (among the other gifts she had) for using her hands. She developed an interest in carpentry and welding before she passed away in 2013 in a car crash. 

Each person has unique gifts and fills a special place in the world that only they can fill. And it all came into focus for me that day when a man named Blair took the time to encourage a young, harried mother. 

He also had another saying, which he said quite often: "It's nice to be nice."  And he lived by it.  Thank you, Blair. Thank you.

 

God's appointments

"Disappointments are God's appointments." - Nancy Ravenhill

The way is rough. The way is long and hard. Nettles stick in the feet. Stones stub the toes. Bruises, bleeding, and questioning are the rules of the day. And then God comes alongside and speaks to the heart of the matter. The weariness lifts, the ache eases, and doubt subsides. 

Ever have one of those times when you didn't know if you were even on the right path, but all you could do was keep plodding? and then God meets your need and speaks to you through the darkness, and a little light comes on inside? It's almost as if the sky clears and the sun rises after a dark and rainy night. You want to tell everyone you know - Rejoice with me! Isn't this fantastic? Wow! God met me where I was, and He really came through for me!! Woo-HOOOO!!

Image "Sunrise At First Sight" by Keattikorn at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I had the privilege of watching that happen for someone today. It had been quite the rough patch and he wondered if there was even anyone out there who cared ... and then an act of kindness blew him away and he was left completely floored, amazed at the goodness of God and of those who share His heart for those who are in need. We shared in that rejoicing that comes when the poor widow finds the lost coin, when a prayed-for miracle happens, when God meets a need that seemed impossible. It was truly inspiring to see that, to be part of that experience.

And we spontaneously worshipped God together. God's presence was there in power in that humble little place, and we enjoyed true fellowship. We were sharing Scripture with each other, and listening to uplifting music whenever God would lead in that direction. We didn't decide, "Well, now I think we'll have church. Pull out the hymnbooks Martha May."  There was no organ, no offering plate, no trappings of any kind; just us. Yet Jesus was there, just as sure as we were, "in the midst." And He was (like we were) grinning from ear to ear all afternoon and well into the evening. It was one of God's appointments, and we were there to enjoy it and be grateful for it.

Life's trials are hard, no question of that. But I wonder sometimes if we've gotten it backward when we question His motives after we've prayed and nothing happens. Perhaps life's disappointments are rather opportunities for God to involve people who hear His voice, and allow those people to participate in what He is doing to answer someone's prayer, meet a need, or bring blessing to someone who needs it. 

I think that's how the early church operated. If there was a need, people stepped up and met that need in Jesus' name. Givers and receivers alike could rejoice in the goodness of the same God who allowed them to join in what God was doing in both of their lives: the receivers by receiving, and the givers by giving, both knowing that it is God who is the source!

Every day could then be an adventure, and there were endless opportunities for God's people to hear His voice and keep one of His appointments with someone who needed something special to remind them that God was looking after them. I'm not sure if that makes any sense to anyone, but there is a sense of community in that kind of sharing. 

And this kind of community, I believe, is what the writer of Hebrews meant when he said not to forsake the assembling of ourselves together ... and so much the more, as we see the day approaching (11:25). Get together! Visit! See each other! Share frequently what God is doing! Meet each other's needs, if God so leads! This is the kind of dynamic that I believe the early church had, and they did NOT have a budget or a building to maintain (I'm just saying). 

And this grass-roots community, these God-appointments, or simply put, God setting stuff up so we can share His goodness and His provision, is something we've been experiencing more and more the last few years, with several individuals as God brings people our way. Sometimes, we get some inkling in advance.  Sometimes, it happens when we least expect it. 

Either way, it's exciting. It's inspiring. It's marvelous!!

The Reason

I see the expression "Jesus is the reason for the season" posted a lot on social media and talked about in groups of friends who share the Christian faith. And I get it. I really do. When my family and I gather on the morning of December 25, the Christmas story is the first thing we focus on before anything else, and we sing Happy Birthday Jesus (or try to - see this link). 

But as we go through the years, we have come to question a lot of the trappings that go with the celebration of Christmas. We understand that December 25th was the date chosen in the early 4th century as "Christ-mass" or "celebration of Christ" by an emperor (Constantine) who wanted Christianity to be the "state religion," and who appropriated the festival of Saturnalia (celebrating the Roman god Saturn, the god of agriculture) to make the transition more palatable. Saturnalia is the pagan holiday, celebrated between December 17 and 24, from which we get our "Christian" tradition of giving gifts, feasting, erecting and decorating an evergreen tree, hanging garlands and wreaths, and using holly branches/berries in decorations.  The lengthening days just after the winter solstice (December 21) meant that many people in ancient times (including the Romans) lit lights (candles and lamps) to welcome the coming Sun.

Photo by Brent Keane from Pexels

Other traditions come from other religious beliefs: the Yule log come from the pagans of Europe, mistletoe comes from the Druids, ivy (used in Christmas decorations in England) is an ancient Roman symbol of the god Bacchus, the god of wine and pleasure, and the modern Santa Claus, thought to be a North American adaptation of the English Father Christmas, had his origins far earlier, in the supreme god Odin from Norse mythology, who is always depicted as an old bearded man in flowing robes. As we know, the Vikings influenced the development of early Anglo-Saxon culture in England.

In addition, the date itself is suspect. It is most likely that Jesus was not born on December 25, or even in the winter. (Yay for no snow!) He was probably born in the early spring, for that is when ancient Hebrew shepherds kept flocks of ewes and lambs outside of Bethlehem, a bedroom community not far from Jerusalem. The lambs were born in late February or early March, and remained with their mothers for the first few weeks in preparation for the Passover feast, so it is likely that Jesus was born in March or April.

Knowing all this means, for me, that I hold the traditions and trappings loosely and that I no longer associate them with the actual celebration of Jesus' birth. Because we have a statutory holiday devoted to the celebration of "Christmas," December 25 is a convenient time for me to remember that God became man, to commemorate His birth, and to spend time with family and friends. Yes, we decorate - but not a whole lot. Yes, we exchange gifts, but we try to make those gifts meaningful expressions of love instead of an obligation based on guilt or greed. Yes, we have a big meal - turkey with dressing and some sort of pie for dessert - but we choose to share that meal with at least one person who otherwise would be alone on a day that many associate with being among family and friends.

But Jesus is the Reason for the season only because we (as believers) choose to make it so. There seems to me to be a certain amount of arrogance in how Christians have judged those who celebrate December 25 without Jesus at the centre of it. We have chosen to celebrate Jesus' birthday at this time, but others - because they are not Christian - have every right to celebrate it however they wish. 

So it makes no difference to me whether people say Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, or whatever, to wish each other well during this season. I look at the well wishes behind such words and I say back to them, "Same to you!" instead of trying to make them feel guilty for using the "wrong" words. At this time of year, when the nights are longest and the endless winter stretches out before us in such bleakness, it is good to remember that there are certain things which transcend circumstance and tie us together as human beings. We believers need not be obnoxious about our faith; that only drives people away. We can be kind, generous, and accepting, and attract people to Jesus rather than promote our own agendas (and in so doing, repel people). We can hold precious in our hearts the Babe who left such opulent richness to lay wrapped in rags, helpless, in a feeding trough.

And we can be grateful that He did this, knowing He would be rejected and crucified, to give us purpose. Himself. He IS The Reason - not for the season ... but for Living.

A culture of beggars

A few years back, there was a small movement in christian circles that had people wearing bracelets that said "WWJD" for "What would Jesus do?" It was geared toward works of service for others, ways to treat others, etc. As I draw closer to Jesus, I find myself not asking Him WHAT He would do; I KNOW what He would do (He would love unconditionally. Period.)  Instead, more and more I ask Him HOW He would do something - and I look to scripture whenever I can to give me guidance on things ... things (and especially religious traditions) that for years I just accepted as the way things were done.

Recently, I have noticed that the way we pray for people is not the way He prayed for them, and the way we deal with the sick is most definitely not the way He did.  In case I was mistaken and the idea came up that "Well, that was Jesus. Of course! He had the authority to do that as God the Son!" ... I looked at what He authorized us (as His disciples) to do on His behalf. What I saw shocked me.

Before I share that with you, let me share what I see happening in the church when someone gets sick ... especially very sick.  People start to pray. But they don't pray the way the disciples did.  Here's what I hear typically when Western christians pray for someone who has any kind of need (minus all the "oh Jesus"es, and the endlessly repeated words like "God" and "Father" - He knows Who He is...):

"Would You just touch his body and heal it?"
"Just wrap Your arms around that family (that person) and bless them..."
"Have Your will in their lives, just hold them close..."
"Just pulverize that sickness."
"Just be with the doctors as they operate, just guide their hands..."

Did you catch the word "just"?  Do you know what that is?  It is a beggar's word.  "If you could give me a quarter. Just a quarter. It's not much, it's all I'm asking for."  It conveys the message that the person you are asking is not generous, not compassionate, that you have to work hard to wring even that much from them.

Really.  

Now let's look at what Jesus did and HOW He did it.  We know that He healed people.  But HOW?  

Jesus didn't pray to the Father for people to be healed.  He did it Himself, and in a very specific way.  He spoke - not to the person, but - to the sickness. The sickness was invading that person's body (or spirit) and He told it to get out.  Plain and simple.  And it left. No ifs, ands or buts.

Now before you raise your objections, (because I had the same ones!) let me remind you that Jesus divested Himself of His divine powers when He became human.  He only operated in His ministry by the power of the Holy Spirit, and in doing so, He demonstrated that any other human being on the planet can do it too.  And then (get this) He explicitly authorized His disciples to do the same.  Look at Matthew 10:8, which is near the beginning of Jesus' instructions to the disciples to go out and preach the good news to the towns and villages surrounding them.  "Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons; freely you have received, freely give."  

Photo "Boy Patient In Hospital"
courtesy of Sura Nualpradid at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

He didn't say, "Pray for the sick to be healed, pray for the dead to be raised..." and so forth.  He said, "Do it."  He implied that they had the authority to do it (in His name.) And so they did.  They had every authority over sickness, leprosy, demon-possession and death that Jesus had as a human being filled with the Spirit.  He gave the same authority to the seventy whom He sent out two by two.  And on the day of Pentecost, He ensured that the same dynamite power - the Holy Spirit - who was in Him, now could inhabit and control us the same way He did for Jesus ... with the same results! 

What the western church tells us is that we are so unworthy, such worms, that we don't have the right to raise our eyes to Heaven.  We need to smash that idol of self-hatred and unworthiness that we have fashioned in the name of spirituality and humility. It is NEITHER.  And we christians have forgotten our heritage as sons and daughters of the most high God.  We aren't to use that heritage to selfishly amass fortunes for ourselves, but rather to stand - loved, freed, and holy in His sight - to stand on behalf of those who are laid aside through sickness, oppression, and yes, even death. We are authorized to speak to that problem - directly TO it - and know that it will go because He has authorized us to be His voice, to be His hands extended. 

Look through the gospels. Look in the book of Acts.  It is there, over and over again.  Speak to the problem.  Command the sickness to go.  

And before you cite the case of the demoniac child whose father cried, "I believe! help my unbelief!" where Jesus said, "This kind does not come out except by prayer and fasting..."  Think.... had Jesus just been fasting?  Did He pray to God right there for a half-hour or two hours and ask for God to cast out the demon?  NO.  It's clear that by this He meant a lifestyle of prayer (that is, communion with God in intimacy) highlighted by fasting - which is meant to focus the person on pressing in to God, not to get something out of Him but to feel closer TO Him.  

It is time for us as believers to put the big C back into the word Christian. To remember that "as He is, so are we in this world." (1 Jn. 4:17).  We need to realize just how deeply, just how intensely and unconditionally He loves us, to shed our dragon-skin of religious self-demeaning ritual, and that beggar's mentality that dares not ask for more than scraps. We need to rid ourselves of the "oh please please please please please" - endless repetitions that essentially say that we don't believe that God is good.  Or that He loves us unconditionally. Let's rise up to our heritage and to our calling as believers.  Let's go about doing good.  Let's change our culture for the better ... not only for our own good but for the good of the people who so desperately need GOOD news.

Ruach El - God's breath

The above Hebrew term is normally translated "the Spirit of God" - but ruach in the Hebrew means breath. That breath is warm, loving, true, gracious, good, lovely, pure, and kind. 

I have noticed something disturbing when I spend time on social media (and I spend more time than most people my age on social media!)  Whenever someone posts a story of something they have experienced or of something that someone else has done that is truly inspirational, and makes the average person smile and believe that there is some goodness in the world after all ... and that person does not mention God in his or her post, there will invariably be that one person (or more) who will judge the person who posted the story for not "witnessing" or pointing the conversation to eternal things.  

In the comments that follow such judgmental comments, there is always a backlash against the person who so commented.  Usually those folks who react the most angrily are those who have been wounded by Christians before (big surprise, huh.) That should tell us something right there.  We often do more harm than good by our insistence on hijacking someone else's story to promote our own agenda.

Here's the thing.  God isn't looking for watchdogs; He's looking for worshippers.  He's a big boy and He can defend Himself, and He can do what He wants whenever He wants ... without our help.  He is not looking for people to jump all over someone (who has been kind and considerate to the less fortunate) just because they weren't "missional." (By the way, my blog's spell-check does not even recognize the word 'missional.')  Jesus said, "He who is not against us is on our side."  And frankly, people who are down and out have had lots of experience with self-appointed prophets who have to turn every conversation into something about spiritual things.  Usually those experiences have not turned out very well for them - they have left every encounter like that feeling condemned (and definitely not encouraged to seek God).  

I speak to born-again believers in this blog because that is my chosen audience.  I don't post my Christian blog on social media to all of my friends, just to believers who are among my friends. (I'm sure I will get some flak for that, but do you really want unbelievers to hear something intended only to wake us Christians up and smash our preconceived notions?)  If you are the kind of believer who feels a responsibility or a compulsion to steer every conversation toward the Lord because He will be displeased or ashamed of you if you don't, this message is for you.  If you take nothing else from what I say, take this:  You are not the Spirit of God.  So, stop trying to do His job for Him.  

I know that we have been given the great commission; I am not disputing that.  However, I would rather live a generous and joyful life, being kind to people, and have them come to me and ask what it is I have because they want it (which has happened occasionally) rather than to shove God down someone's throat who is not ready to hear about Him.  The Hound of Heaven will not renege on people; people are His passion!  He loves everyone (not just the Christian!)  He is not willing that anyone should perish, but that all should come to repentance.  And it is HIS Goodness that leads to repentance.  His goodness.  Not our arguments and programs and posters and videos, some of which use extreme shock-value to condemn this or that practice (did you catch the word condemn?)  The Spirit of God is not about that.  He is about being good to people.  All people.

He reminds us - all of us - that He loves us.  No matter who we are, or what we've done,  He loves us.  Deliriously, unconditionally.  If your concept of Him is any different, remember that Jesus loved people - and He was only frustrated by those who were religious and who condemned others by insisting that they obey some set of rules.  

Photo: "Homeless Man" by
Mantas Ruzveltas at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

If Jesus walked the earth today, He would be spending time with the homeless, the pimps, the addicts, and the mentally ill far more than with the churched.  The reason is clear - they need Him! (The truth is, we ALL need Him, but it appears that some believers have forgotten that.)  He would not be engaged in spreading panic, hatred, and prejudice the way I have seen some believers do.  He would welcome the refugee, accept the cross-dresser, and listen to (and cry with) the pregnant girl who thinks her only option is abortion. 

When I see believers "standing up for righteousness" (which is the way some of them have chosen to veil their hatred for people who are not exactly like them) by posting condemnation and judgment all over the social media, I cringe because I know that they don't see how damaging their comments are to the cause of Christ.  I wonder - when THEY see a homeless person - whether they would spend time with that person and listen to his or her story, and buy them a coffee and a muffin, or whether they would not be able to get past their own nose (you'd smell bad too if you couldn't take a shower very often) - and even avoid looking at the homeless for fear of getting hit up for money (which they assume would be spent on booze). Or (as is often the case) whether they would prefer waiting until someone does something good, and then criticize the way that person does it.

I also know that it does no good to complain about something if you don't have a suggested solution.  So here is mine, for what it is worth; it might surprise you!!

Let yourself experience God's unconditional, passionate and accepting love for you.  Realize in your innermost being that it comes with NO conditions, NO rules, NO judgment.  Fully embrace that.  See Jesus on the cross as God's rescue operation for the whole world: past, present, and future - every person.  The more you experience His limitless, no-holds-barred love, the more you will automatically love as He does - and the less appearances, rules, and 'being right' will matter.  

No programs. No shoulds.  No musts. Just Him.  God's breath - Ruach El - surrounding, permeating you ... warm, loving, intimate, and generous.  Live from that perspective, know that He loves, and love does not judge ... and see your relationships transform, watch how God revolutionizes your attitudes.  It's amazing - and so freeing!  

Real change happens from the inside out.  In you, in me, and in them.  He's got this. So we can shed those heavy I've-got-to-carry-the-weight-of-the-whole-world shackles. It's so unnecessary.  I'm just saying.

Tempest in a coffee cup

It started when a certain coffee shop chain decided not to feature an obviously Christmas-y decorated cup for the holiday season like every other coffee shop chain.  The most vocal outrage came from .... Christians.  First they bought the coffee and wrote Merry Christmas on the cups (ummm, doesn't that put MORE money in the chain's account?) and then there were calls to boycott ... and the debate raged hot and heavy on social media .... and so on, until everyone was (and is) sick of it. 

Oh come ON.

Photo "Homeless Man" courtesy of
Mantas Ruzveltas at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Of all the things to crusade for, this is what gets attention? A paper coffee cup?  How about the homeless in your neighbourhood?  How about the teenage girls who don't think they have any other option but to get an abortion when they get pregnant? How about the co-worker who is so lonely that he is considering suicide - how much would it cost to sit with him over a cup of hot chocolate and a cookie once in a while? or smile and say hello to him by name in the corridor?  How about the neighbour who needs his grass cut but can't afford to repair his lawnmower? How about you use your imagination to see how many ways you can do some good for someone else?  Who freaking CARES what your coffee cup has printed (or not printed) on it? 

I absolutely detest confrontation.  But I am so steamed about this small example of self-righteousness that I want to confront people who argue and judge over things that just don't matter. They don't!  It doesn't matter whether Joe Blow politician does or believes something you don't agree with.  It doesn't matter if people say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays.  It doesn't!  

Stop trying to Christianize everything!  It doesn't matter whether the preacher wears a tie.  It doesn't matter whether people believe in the big bang theory.   News flash: there are a lot of good-hearted people who aren't Christians. And they (and others who aren't quite so nice) are watching us, watching how we act and react.  And they have concluded that we're a pretty pathetic bunch.  

And they're right. As a group, in Western society, we really are.  A lot of us see demons in dishrags, angels in the shape of birds, and we can't even enjoy a simple pleasure like a sunset without turning it into an opportunity to beat people over the head with creationism. Here's another news flash: that doesn't "win souls." That makes people want to avoid us - and not because we're being persecuted for righteousness' sake.  It's because we're weird. And not in a good way, but in a space-cadet, whacked-out way!!

The truth is, we don't live in a Christian society.  We live in a secular society. So did the early Christians.  You didn't see them carrying placards and staging demonstrations against the blood sport at the Coliseum.  You didn't see them writing their emperor to have the taxes lifted.  You didn't see them going around judging people either.  What you saw was them loving people, being good to people.  You saw them enjoying life, being happy, and being generous.  

Christians are real people in a real relationship with a real Person.  And that Person is really into being good to people (ALL people), loving them, bringing them joy, no matter where on the journey they are.  He went to the limit and beyond to rescue the whole world... to show us His love. 

Put that in your coffee cup and drink it.  Live THAT out in real love and compassion, without trying to one-up someone else or prove a point.  I dare you.

Light in darkness

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about John chapter one, and more specifically about the references in the first few verses to Light and darkness. It says in that chapter that the Light shines in the darkness.  Now, to me, in my human understanding, that means that the darkness exists but that when the Light shines, the darkness flees.  That's not what the passage says. It says that the Light shines IN the darkness, ... and that the darkness (does not flee, but) does not comprehend the Light. 

Whoa. That takes a person aback, doesn't it?  It doesn't make sense to us because we go into a dark room, we turn on a light, and the darkness goes away - that's what darkness is, isn't it? the absence of Light?  

Not here in this passage. John is talking about a kind of darkness that it doesn't matter how bright the light, it does NOT go away, nor does the darkness have any concept of Light.  Well, what kind of darkness cannot understand Light?  

There is only one answer that is possible: blindness.  

Suddenly all makes sense.  Jesus said to the Pharisees, "... because you say, 'We see,' your blindness remains." (John 9:41) 

And herein lies the darkness, dear friends.  The darkness consists of insisting that everything is fine, actually believing that it is so, while all the while stumbling around in darkness, in blindness, not even aware that there is so much more: so much more freedom, so much more love, so much more Life than we ever thought possible. Yet all the while, blazing white Light is all around, piercing through everything, illuminating Life all around us, shooting rainbows and moonlight in our paths, and yet unseen by the blind who will not see. 

The darkest of all blindness is the one in which the blind one has convinced himself that he can see.  It is religion, religious ritual and self-righteousness, hypocrisy and wallowing in fear that God will take out His big cudgel and squash us like bugs. But ... God is not like that.  That's why Jesus came!! The Word says, "God was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself..." (2 Cor. 5:19).  

And Jesus stands and proclaims that the Spirit of God is upon Him to preach the good news to the poor, to proclaim deliverance to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, and to set free those who are oppressed. (Luke 4:18).  In reality, those who are blind in the way that John 1 reveals are poor, and captive, and oppressed - by virtue of their own -- OUR own -- blindness!  Jesus came to prove God's love to us in a way we could understand, and we killed Him for it in our darkness - our lack of comprehension.  But when we first turn to Him and ask Him to remove our blindness, He does - and we can see the Love that was there all along, and the Light that has brightened our path if we but knew it! This Light is transformative, redemptive, and irrevocable (Rom. 11:29). 

Photo "Sun In The Sky" courtesy of graur razvan at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

When we are in darkness, in blindness, we can do absolutely nothing to rid ourselves of this sad state; HE is the only One who opens blind eyes.  We only ask.  He does it - He does it because He wants to do it, and has been waiting for us to ask Him!  

This makes salvation and even faith itself (Eph. 2:8d) something that He does on our behalf, and rightly so - because if we could, we would boast about how much we did, how much we believed.  It is HIS faith!!  Galatians 2:20 says in the original Greek, "...and the life I live in the flesh, I live by the faith OF the Son of God, who loved me, and gave Himself for me."  Not IN, but OF.  That means that it is JESUS' faith and we can have confidence in His faith because it does NOT waver!! 

Can we see how much this frees us to live in happy gratitude?  Can we? The pressure is off! the love of God is unconditional, the grace of God is free, and the faith of Jesus in His Father is rock-solid! Hahahahahahahaha!! What glorious liberty!  what amazing love!  how bright the Light is!!  How delirious the joy that comes from total and complete acceptance in the Beloved One! 

Can I make it any more plain? This is GOOD news!! This is what the apostles were ready to die for!  No adding to it; that only takes away from it!  No reservations - that leads to bondage!  Pray God that He will open our eyes to see the wonder of His full, free, intense, passionate, scandalous love for us!

Rescued

Last Thanksgiving, a four-month-old black-and-white kitten entered our lives. 

He was a rescue. Quite literally!! His mother - as near as we can tell - had been a feral cat and had abandoned him in the situation in which he found himself; she was unable to extricate him. And little wonder: trapped in a snowmobile engine at the age of about 6 or 7 weeks, a woman found him when she went to check on her vehicles. She heard his cries and tried for over a day - nearly a day and a half - to get him out of the engine. He was trapped, stuck inside the fan belt quite likely, and all her efforts to reach in and pull him out were fruitless. Covered in grease, stuck solid, and terrified, every effort she made only traumatized him even more. Finally she called the PEI Humane Society who sent an animal control worker to the scene. She was able to get him free in very short order, and took him back to the shelter to have him cared for, fed, cleaned up and (hopefully) put up for adoption.

It was not to be. The kitten bounced back from his injuries and ate well enough, but he was terrified of anyone bending down over him to touch him, pet him, or (God forbid) pick him up - to the point of hissing and growling at people. This did not bode well for him, so at that point they decided to have him fostered at the home of the animal control worker who'd found him.

He got along well with her animals (a dog and two cats, including one of the kittens she was fostering from the shelter) but he remained skittish and wild around people. In time, he and his foster brother were brought back to the shelter; the brother was adopted within a few days but ... nobody wanted this little guy. He'd hang back in his cage, avoid eye contact, shy away - definitely not your typical sociable kitten. The shelter workers worked with him for weeks trying to get him to accept being handled. He stopped growling and hissing but he was extremely skittish and shy still. 

By the time he was 3 months old, my daughter had noticed his online profile. She took an interest in his case - and even went to see him a couple of times. There was an instant connection. He didn't warm up to her but she felt a sort of kinship from the very first moment she touched the glassed in portion of his cage and he touched the other side with his paw.

From that moment on, she kept trying to convince herself that she couldn't have fallen in "love at first sight" ... but the more she tried, the less it worked. By the end of the second visit, the Saturday of the 2014 Thanksgiving weekend, she had herself convinced that he would be adopted by someone else, and she was grateful for the few photos she'd taken of him. He was barely four months old.

That night, I had a chat with my husband privately about this kitten. I outlined how our daughter felt, mentioned that we had been willing to have three cats in the house if our older female cat had returned (she didn't), so he agreed that it was a good idea to get this cat. I went on the website and applied to adopt him, using our daughter's name and email address. 

The next morning, we were all sitting in the living room. Our daughter had already checked the shelter's website and seen that the kitten's profile had disappeared from it, and she was grieving not being able to see him again, when she received an email from a worker at the shelter who was extremely thrilled that this kitten would go to "such an excellent home!" (We'd gotten two previous kittens from them in the past year so they knew us.) The worker wanted us to go in the next day and bring the little guy home. Our daughter was totally floored. She never expected anything like this. The expression on her face was similar to someone being told that someone had bought a ticket in her name in a lottery, and her number had been the winning one. Disbelief, happiness, gratitude, relief and more flooded her face. 

When the little guy first came to us, he was incredibly skittish. It took a shelter worker five full minutes to get him into the crate we'd brought! We put him (cage and all) into our daughter's room and allowed her to be the one to let him out ... behind closed doors of course. 

She let him come to her on his own terms. It took nearly a week for him to allow her to touch him. She worked really hard those first couple of weeks to convey to him that this was a "safe place" ... and we were amazed at how quickly he responded.  It wasn't the food, or the coaxing, or anything else that brought him out of his shell. 

The rescued one - at 7 months old.

It was the love. He learned early on in the relationship that she LOVED him. And there was a large part of him, deep down, that responded to that love - a shriveled bud that began to blossom into a beautiful flower. 

In his kitty heart, she had rescued him out of what his life had been, and taken him to a place where he felt secure, safe, protected, and cared for. And above all, he felt loved.

And he loved her right back. He still does. Yes, he will allow us to touch and pet him sometimes, and he enjoys being around us - but it's different with her. 

Every morning, after he has had his breakfast (I feed the cats in separate rooms so we know who's getting how much) I let him out of his room and the very first thing he does is head for our daughter's room. Not sauntering - no - he rushes to her room, squeaking a little meow as he runs. If she's in her bed and is awake, he jumps up beside her and rubs up against her face with complete abandon. The sound of her voice speaking to him thrills him and he begins to pad excitedly ... prancing in delight. She strokes him and his tail lifts up and the tip curls back and forth in extreme happiness. He stays with her until she gets up. Throughout the day he can be doing something else ... and as soon as she gets up and moves around, he is right there. At her side. He wants to be wherever she is.

It never gets old. 

Why would it? She rescued him. She loves him. How could he ever take such love for granted? How could he ever forget how she saved him? how much she has changed his life?

He reminds me that it isn't what we "do" for Jesus that matters; it's what He did for us. It's HIS love that made life, living possible. It's HIS love that compelled Him to make a way for us. It's HIS generosity and goodness that has changed us, transformed us, made us new. 

I watch this cat and I see love and gratitude reflected back toward the one who saved him, the one who loves him. 

And it helps me to remember what's really important.

Spotless

"... Out, damned spot! Out, I say! ...
... yet, who would have thought the old man
to have had so much blood in him ...
... What, will these hands ne'er be clean?....
... Here's the smell of the blood still:  all the
perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten
this little hand! Oh, oh! oh!!"
---- Lady MacBeth, Hamlet, Act V Scene 1

Some may recognize the above excerpts to be from Lady MacBeth's sleepwalking scene where she is out of her mind with guilt for orchestrating the king's death to advance her husband to the throne. Seeing it played out is absolutely heart-breaking, even though we know that this woman is responsible for the deaths of the king and of his family members (and others) by this point in the story. She is so frail and so overwhelmed by the weight of the consequences of her own hunger for power that she goes crazy and commits suicide. Such a tragic, hopeless end!  

Many times I see believers believe (or act as if they believe) as did poor Lady MacBeth. They wail and weep over sins they have committed, moan about how unworthy they are, beg God to forgive their sins, and do it all again the next time they think that they've done something unworthy of their calling. 

For them, and for those like them, I have good news. 

Before any of us were even born, Jesus died for all of our sin. Every sin we would ever commit was covered, eradicated, obliterated from the record books. Past, present, and future (at that time it was all future anyway!!) This not only included the sins we committed while we were still unbelievers, but also the ones we would commit afterward. 

We are spotless. Not just positionally - in reality. This is the good news: we are new creations, we are made holy and whole in His sight because we have been purchased, bought back from the slaver and set in the palace with Him as His children. Our debt is already paid. We are already clean. The glory is already given. 

We. Are. Spotless. 

His divine power has granted us all that we need for life and godliness.

He took the verdict that was written against us and nailed it to His cross. 

God has made Him to be sin for us (Him who knew no sin) that we might be made the righteousness of God in Him! 

We are holy and blameless before Him. In love He predestined us to be adopted. 

We have been saved through grace by faith, not by works, in case anyone would boast. We are His masterpiece, created in Christ Jesus. 

We. Are. Spotless. 

Photo "Waterfall In Forest" courtesy of
Witthaya Phonsawat at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Pure, clean, unsullied, without reproach. He has in love redeemed our souls from the pit of corruption, for He has cast all our sins (did you hear that? ALL our sins) behind His back. 

Spotless. 

Not someday. NOW. Not pie-in-the-sky. No, it's feet-on-the-ground every-day-every-moment HOLY, just as holy as Jesus is. Not because WE have accomplished anything but because He has regenerated us.  

This one truth, this deliriously good news, changes our piteous pleas for forgiveness, our hopeless cries of unworthiness, into worship that He has saved us and given us the right to approach Father and ask Him anything - based on what has ALREADY been done, ALREADY been given, ALREADY been provided for us to enjoy. 

There is no need to ask or cajole, to beg for His presence. He is there.

There is no need to grovel. He has given us richly all things to enjoy. Including forgiveness. It's already done, once and for all. We get to live in it all of the time.

There is no need to wonder if God will do for us what He has promised, if He has our best interest at heart. We can be confident that He loves us and that He will do whatever is best for us. No matter what!

He bought and paid for it all. He took us in from the cold, has washed us and replaced our rags with His righteousness, adopted us and given us His name. 

We. 
Are. 
Spotless. 

Believe it. Joy in it. Dare to experience, to know deep inside how deep His love is, how wide His grace is, how vast His forgiveness is, how far His compassion spreads ... and if by chance you say to yourself, "This is too good to be true," then you are only beginning to scratch the surface of how passionate He is about His relationship with you.

Ask Him. Ask Him to show you how much He loves you.
I bet that He will show you the ultimate expression of His love: Jesus - paying the ultimate price for your freedom at the cross. 

Linger there.

Right where I need to be

Many times over the last several years, I've struggled with the concept of knowing what God's will is for me in a given situation.

I've wrestled with what the right choice is. I've made a choice and second-guessed myself all over the place. There have been times that I have asked for a sign from God - something only I would recognize - and although I've been taught that is a bad thing to do ("demonstrates a lack of faith") I've not felt any condemnation ... at least not from God. In fact, I'm pretty sure He was fine with Gideon's requests (where we get the term "putting out a fleece") because once Gideon was convinced that this was God ... there was no stopping him!

All that aside, I still fight uncertainty. 

And lately, I've been having yet another moral dilemma. I have spent a lot of money lately on my youngest daughter. A LOT. The money just disappears into this proverbial black hole and nothing comes out. She is starting a new life in another province and I have poured funds into helping her get on her feet: more funds in the last 3 months than some people make in a year. 

I have heard the nay-saying voices in my head. The voices that sound like they are speaking sense to me, tell me that I need to let go, let her sink or swim. But ... something inside rebelled against that.

I've sunk before. I know what it feels like. And I can't swim.

If I hadn't poured that money into that situation, the miracle that never would have happened here, happened way out there in Alberta. Without my input!! (Please see my last post, called "Outside the box".)

Image "Giving To The Poor" courtesy of
David Castillo Dominici
at www.freedigitalimages.net

Yet, the fact was that I had exhausted my tuition fund, and put myself in debt, to help her out and make sure she was safe.  I didn't know what else to do; I had spent so much money and now I was looking at spending even more for possible tuition for trade school for her. Then her landlady kicked her out - gave her 1 hour's notice and that was it. 

She was homeless. Living in her car.

I was desperate. The heavens - when I prayed (and I prayed a LOT about the financial situation) - were not saying anything.  So then I did something pretty drastic. I asked people for help. I created a fundraising (crowd-funding) website with donation buttons and the whole shebang. Promoted it on Facebook. Twitter.

Nothing. 

I put my heart out there and made myself vulnerable. I even begged for help; I humiliated myself for her sake. 

And .... nothing. 

Once I did that ... once I had opened myself to attack (i.e., yet further judgment) ... she got a job. A serving job at a fair-sized restaurant. And with renewed vigor she looked for an apartment. 

I took from that experience (and no, she still hasn't found an apartment; she is still living in her car) that God would have me open myself to people ... only to have me realize (as a lesson from Him) that people aren't my source. 

I say again: human beings aren't my source.

HE is.  All He wanted was for me to be desperate enough to make a fool of myself for love... and to realize that only He can meet my needs. And they are MY needs. I know that now.

And so, over the course of the next couple of days, I will be removing my fundraising campaign from the web, taking down my donation buttons, and packing up shop that way.  My support of my daughter is something that I choose to do ... for my own reasons, which don't need to be justified.

Just so you know.

Mercy. Not Sacrifice.

Twice in the book of Matthew, I was reminded this morning, Jesus spoke to the religious elite of His day - the scribes and the Pharisees - and told them to find out what the Scriptures meant when they said, "I desire mercy and not sacrifice." He was quoting the prophet Hosea - the prophet who married a prostitute to prove how deep God's love goes.

The religious ruling class were all about sacrifice. They were all about making people aware that they were sacrificing, what they were sacrificing (whether an animal or some sort of food or habit) and how often / how much they were doing it. They were all about upholding the letter of the law, and they were obsessive about the tiniest little thing in the application of that law - even to giving a tenth of the product of their herb and spice gardens to the temple.

They even thought of themselves as self-sacrificing. They put themselves out (and made sure everyone knew it) to obey the Law and the associated rules and regulations. They put written passages of scripture into little boxes and strapped the boxes to their head so that God's word would always "be on their minds."

They consistently considered themselves the guardians of their faith. If someone was out of line, they pounced and pronounced upon that person without mercy. They thought that by doing so, they were protecting the purity of their connection with God. They set themselves up as judge and jury, and marginalized the hurting and the needy, rather than taking pity on them and showing them mercy. Judgment was swift and always seen in black and white. They hid behind their robes, their prayer shawls, their tassels, and their phylacteries (those little boxes I mentioned) and they looked down their noses at those who were 'uneducated' and 'unenlightened.' They trusted in their rituals and their position rather than seeking any kind of relationship with the God they claimed to serve, rather than admitting their own need of Him.

Photo "Bible" provided courtesy of
Arvind Balaraman at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

They were wrong.

Jesus called them "blind guides" and said that they swallowed camels whole ... but only strained out gnats (umm, at the other end. Quite the graphic picture!) 

Their blindness, Jesus told them, would persist because they insisted that they could see perfectly. They would not listen to the idea that they might be in error. Instead, they held fast to the way things had been done for generations, and they continued to dispense unyielding justice against all those who would dare to let their brokenness and their need of love and acceptance show. In a typical show of religious arrogance, one day they thrust a local prostitute down in front of Jesus, a woman that they had "caught in the very act of adultery," saying that the law demanded that she be stoned; what did He think? (What I find interesting was that they only quoted PART of the law; it said that BOTH parties were to be stoned. So where was the guy?? Perhaps he was getting his phylactery back on....) 

Jesus' response was telling. "Whichever one of you is without sin (the Greek says 'without this sin') may cast the first stone." 

Picture it. At least half a dozen men (and probably many more) gathered around this itinerant, dusty rabbi and a nearly naked woman, her eyelids swollen and red, her face streaked with tears and her hair undone and plastered to her cheeks ... and all Jesus would do was crouch down and write in the dust. Perhaps He was writing the names of their mistresses. Perhaps He was writing the words of Hosea, "I desire mercy and not sacrifice..." All I know is that they left, one by one, starting with the older ones. The only sound was the occasional thump as the rock each man held ... hit the ground. That, and the woman lying in the dust sobbing, her face in her hands, wordlessly crying out for someone - anyone - to not throw that first stone.

After the religious elite had "dropped their rocks and split" ... Jesus - the only person who could have cast the first stone - showed her mercy.

He didn't condone her sin.  But ... He didn't condemn her either. He forgave her totally: without reservation. He gave her a second chance.

That's mercy in action. 

That's Jesus.

The Fisher

He fished for a living. Together with his brother and other burly, well-muscled men, Peter could hold his own on a boat - or in a fight. 

But one day his brother came running up to him, out of breath. "I found him!" he exclaimed. "The Anointed One! I'm sure it's the Deliverer!" 

He was skeptical. "Really? how can you be sure?"

"Come and see!" Andrew told him. 

Peter followed - from afar. He watched this fellow from Nazareth touch sick people and they would instantly be well. He listened to this man teach, watched him love, care for people. He couldn't help himself. Maybe Andrew had been right.

And then, one day, it happened. Jesus called him to be one of His inner circle. "You'll fish men," He told Peter.

He left his nets behind for good. Ever impulsive and whole-hearted in whatever he did, Peter embraced this Master with everything he was. He soaked in the strange, compassionate teaching like a spiritual sponge; Jesus touched something in him that had never been stirred before. For the first time in his life, he felt truly loved. He marveled like a child at the mystery and the power of God shown in the miracles Jesus did, the things He said, and His willingness to touch the untouchables. 

He was absolutely sure that Jesus was the Messiah, that it was just a matter of time before the Master would burst forth and deliver them all from their oppressors, the Romans. He expected it to happen any day. 

Until the day that the opposite happened. The time was ripe, the soldiers were right there; it was perfect. 

He even took a swing with his sword at one of the arrest party - missed his neck and cut off his ear instead.  Jesus stopped him, and healed the man's ear.

Now. Now was the time; something amazing was bound to happen. 

Only ..... Only He didn't call the hosts of Heaven to come charging to the rescue. 

He let them arrest Him and take Him away. What??

Peter was dumbfounded. The tide had turned! How could this happen?

He'd built his life on the Master. He'd forsaken everything. Now ... the only One who could do anything to turn it around ... wasn't doing it. 

And anyone who was associated with Him would be the next target. He knew it as sure as he knew his own name. As much as he was unafraid to face the whole arrest party, he feared the Sanhedrin and their guards; they had the ear of the Roman governor and that made him very nervous! His fear made him want to cut and run - but his love for Jesus, and his curiosity about what might happen next, made him stay close - even if at a distance. Even while his world was falling apart.

And then ... someone recognized him. 

Peter felt trapped. He backpedaled. All he wanted to do was get away, find a place, lick his wounds. Bewildered, unsure, insecure, he denied ever knowing Jesus. Not once, but to three separate people in the space of a few hours. 

And suddenly Jesus was looking at him. One glance was all it took. The Master had said he would do this - and he (ever impulsive, ever leading with his heart) had promised that even if the others ran away, he wouldn't. He knew that Jesus knew what he'd done. His eyes brimmed with tears. He ran out into the night, into the dark, alone. This was so unusual for Peter; he usually liked the crowd - it invigorated him. Not now. Now, he buried his face in his hands and burst into deep, wracking sobs - for how long he didn't know and he didn't care. 

He was a failure. 

Even after Jesus rose from the grave - the greatest miracle of all - Peter still doubted himself. He decided to go back to the sea, to what he knew, to the life he'd abandoned three years ago. That, at least, he knew how to do. Besides, Jesus would never have any use for him. He'd dropped the ball. He had royally messed up. There was no going back.

Even that didn't work. All night he fished. Not one fish.

"Throwing Fishing Net During Sunset" courtesy of noomhh at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

He and his friends the Zebedee brothers were rowing back into shore in the dawn light when a voice called out to them. "Throw the net on the other side of the boat," it said. 

It went completely against what they were used to doing. Yet ... something about the tone of the Man's voice made them obey. 

Immediately, the net filled with fish - all kinds of fish - so many that the net almost broke! The men were laughing and sweating, straining against the sudden influx of wiggling, flopping fish.

Their laughter died down as they caught each other's eyes. Only One Person could do that. "It's the Lord," John said. 

Peter let go of the net - for the second time in his life - and jumped into the water. He rushed toward the shore, to the growing, tantalizing smell of frying fish. Jesus had cooked breakfast. 

The Master never said a word about the pall that hung between them. Both men knew Peter had denied knowing Him, that he was awash in shame. No, now it was more important to feed the body. They'd worked hard all night, and hunger was a great distraction.

After breakfast, Jesus and Peter found themselves alone - apart from the others - talking. 

"Do you love me more than these?" Jesus asked. 

Peter had learned his lesson about promising the moon. "You know that I like you," he replied.

"Feed my sheep."

"Do you love Me?"  Peter again affirmed that he liked the Master - as a brother or a friend.

Again the mysterious command. "Feed my lambs."

The silence was deafening. "Peter ... do you like Me?" 

Ouch. "Lord, You know all things. You know that I like You." 

"Feed my sheep."

In the space of five minutes, Jesus let Peter know that he was completely forgiven, that He was willing to start where Peter was - in the midst of his insecurities and self-doubt, and He refocused his attention on what really mattered: not comparing himself to others, but concentrating on his own relationship with God and listening to whatever it was that God had called him to do with his life. 

Seven weeks later - after Jesus had returned to the Throne, Peter's life would change completely.

He was about to get a much bigger net.

Death of an atheist

I first met Ted (not his real name) at a 12-step group that met in someone's home.  He sat, defiant, beaten by alcohol for decades but unwilling to embrace steps 2 and 3 of AA: We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity, and We turned our will and our lives over to the care of God... 

Image from this site

He had tried every trick in the book to get sober without "the God thing."  Nothing worked.  He'd lived a hard-drinking, hard-living life, filled with booze, drugs, women, you name it. His salesman's life had taken him far and wide; he was used to living in hotels and using every mood-altering substance he could. Now he was in his sixties and even more adamant that there was no God.  He had a spite against the church so wide, you could see it written all over him.  SOMEONE (and I suspect many, MANY someones) had hurt him so very badly in the church and he had written the whole Christianity thing completely off - it was ludicrous to him.  He saw the judgmental, self-righteous attitudes of any church people he had ever been in contact with, the small-minded, religious, cliquish, rules-based and narrow lives each of them led, and wanted nothing whatsoever to do with that.  And he'd tarred God with the same brush as those who said they believed in Him.

Now the guy leading this group was saying that in order to get and stay sober, he had to believe in the God he had for so very long resisted as being the source of the behavior of these horrible people - and not only that - to give his will and his life to Him?  No.  Ted argued, he disputed, he got red in the face and it looked like he was going to physically attack this guy.  I think the only thing that kept him in his seat was the fact that the forty-something man he was so angry at ... could whip him (but good) in a fight.  

So he left.  He "went back out" as they say in recovery rooms.  He went on yet another drinking spree that left him nearly destitute, beaten into desperation by the consequences of his choices.  And like a moth to a candle flame, he was again seated in our little group. 

But he wasn't saying much.  

One night, one of our number spoke up and told his story, the story of someone who had a real hatred of God and of His people, a victim of physical and religious abuse, hypocrisy, and abandonment all in the name of God.  He told how he finally came to the end of himself and in desperation cried out for God to either kill him or cure him.  And that was the beginning of a rather uneasy but successful end to his drinking career and the beginning of a relationship with the Creator not based on hypocrisy and religion but based on truth and honesty.

Ted's face was a study in conflicting emotions.  After the meeting ended, he approached this fellow and said, "Would it be okay if I called you sometime?" The man agreed, perplexed.  Everyone there knew Ted's hostile attitude toward all things religious.  And now he was wanting to talk to someone who freely admitted that relationship with God was the only way.  

Over the course of the next few months, after heart-to-heart talks over coffee, going through the shakes, the jitters and the intolerable cravings and being able to talk about them frankly and openly with his chosen mentor (and with others of the same ilk), after long walks and talks with God about anything and everything - this God to whom he referred as "The Old Man" because he couldn't bring himself to say the word, "God" - Ted grew into a personal relationship with his Creator.  It was like watching a baby being born - miraculous, raw, delicate, new.  His life was transformed! Every facet of it burgeoned with Life.  Everything was so fresh, so vibrant, so .... passionate.  Every bit of passion with which he had hated the church and (by association) God, was now funneled into loving Him, developing relationship with Him.  His whole demeanor exuded peace and joy.  God had truly touched his life.  

The atheist had died.  A believer was born.

He even started attending a church, but more out of a desire to please God than any other thing, like social expectation. He got - and stayed - sober.  He became everything that everyone knew that he could be if only he would let God love him: a better person, a better husband, a better father.  And he was so refreshingly honest about his journey.  He'd talk about it to people, to newcomers in our group, who would listen to him because he knew what it was like.  He knew how it felt to be that hopeless, that disillusioned, to not know what this God-thing was all about.  He told them it was okay to have doubts, but if they'd just be honest with God and start talking to Him, they'd see a difference in their lives.  He was a walking miracle - he was living proof that God could do anything with anyone who would give Him a real honest chance.  And folks knew it.

One night, after his usual long walk back to his hotel room, talking with "The Old Man" the whole way, he felt very tired, so he laid down in his bed without taking his street clothes off.  

The cleaning staff found him the next day just like that.  His heart had given out.  He was gone.

We, like many others in our little band, questioned the goodness and the love of a God who would take him from his family and his friends so soon after getting his life squared away, restored, renewed. What kind of cruel joke was this, we wondered.  We missed him; we missed his ready smile, his willing heart, his generous spirit. We still do.  But we had to accept that he was immensely happy where he was, marveling in his new-found everlasting life.  Some of us did accept this, and we were able to move on.  Others ... didn't. 

Now, several months after his death, I'm even more convinced of what I was in the beginning, when he first passed away.  He was taken from us while he was still unspoiled by religion.  If he had gotten any further into the western church, any church, any denomination, he would never have survived. The rules that so many rely on to try to keep people in line would have begun to make themselves known, to hem him in, to dissect his passion (apparently a dangerous thing in religious circles because it can't be controlled) and render it powerless. The pettiness, the hypocrisy that had hurt him in the past was (and is) still rampant.  It was only a matter of time before he realized it and his faith - tenuous and fragile that it was - would have been shaken.  And he would have "gone back out" again to reject his Creator and drink himself into his grave, another sad statistic.  I'm as sure of it as I know my own name. 

So I'm not angry at God anymore for taking Ted when He did.  I miss him, yes.  I really miss him.  But I know that he's happier now than he ever was - and that he left this world in an untainted, intimate love-relationship with "The Old Man" that leaves mine in the dust. 

Yes, it was a little rough around the edges.  Yes, he had a lot to learn. (Or did he?)  Be that as it may, I can tell you that with all that is in me, there are times that I pray for God to make me more like him.  Not like the ones that are so bound up in the shoulds and oughtas that they drive people away in droves - but more like Ted, who just learned to love and be loved, completely, honestly, warts and all.