Power Of A Moment

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This morning at church, our congregation sang “My Country Tis Of Thee.”

The last stanza caused my eyes to well up with tears:

…Long may our land be bright
With freedom’s holy light
Protect us by Thy might
Great God our King!

The light of freedom is dimming in this country.

And that breaks my heart, as I think of those (some in my own family) who have given their lives and sacrificed much for this magnificent country.

We have an administration who rose to power by cynically proclaiming “Hope and Change.” In reality, their policies have brought nothing but despair and increasing tyranny. As they outright ignore and therefore totally trash our precious Constitution, the masses seem to sleep as our blood-bought liberties are slowly but surely and methodically eroded.

Statism, which our current president holds so near and dear to his heart, has proven time and again over the course of history to be a miserable, soul-crushing failure. Yet its cold, godless tentacles are reaching further and further into every aspect of life in our nation.

In recent weeks, we have seen the gross abuses of the ruthless bureaucrats at the IRS come to light. We have witnessed their supreme arrogance as they come before Congress, blithely claiming that they have done nothing wrong—while thousands of lives are now pointlessly shipwrecked because they dared to espouse conservative values.

Next year, this very same loathsome agency will be in charge of making life and death decisions for the health care of every American.

Chilling, isn’t it?

Last September, four Americans were brutally slaughtered in Libya. Some  as-yet-unnamed shadowy figure gave the order to “stand down.” With that despicable and cowardly order, these four brave citizens were deserted by their country in their time of greatest need and  cut down in the prime of their lives by Islamic terrorists.

(I realize the current political climate declines to call a spade a spade and seems to believe that refusing to acknowledge something will make it go away. I, however, refuse to yield to such juvenile and pathetic absurdity. Islamic terrorists really do exist. They hate America and all that it stands for and are committed to replacing freedom with tyranny by any means necessary. Their goal is nothing short of world domination. And a politically correct climate that refuses to acknowledge the existence of sheer evil is making such a goal much easier. Haven’t you heard? There is no such thing as a ‘war on terror’!).

When grilled about this brutal and senseless carnage, our own Secretary of State yelled into a microphone, “What difference does it make now?”

When I first heard those words, I was so shocked I could not even speak. And then I wept.

This has what our country has become?

The warriors who valiantly serve this country are heroes, pure and simple. They deserve to know that their country is fully behind them when they are in harm’s way.

In my small town, there is a ceremony of remembrance every single Thursday evening. Each week, rain or shine, sleet or snow, a group of veterans gather on the town green beneath the flag to hold a vigil for those missing in action in the Vietnam war. That war ended nearly forty years ago; yet these patriots gather each week to remember their great sacrifice.

Because those people mattered.

The patriots in this country who are willing to take a stand against clear encroaching tyranny and suppression do not deserve to be intimidated by un-elected bureaucrats at the IRS who are intoxicated with the power a behemoth government machine grants them.

This America is NOT what our forefathers fought so hard for.

This America is NOT the country that was founded on the Word of God.

When a country legislates our Creator out of the public square, He grants their request.

Today, we see the dire consequences of this. And it is enough to break a heart.

However, God is not mocked.

His throne has not moved.

He reigns supreme over all.

Statism does NOT win. It is an ultimately utterly and completely futile endeavor, to say nothing of the fact that it is evil to the core.

Those in power are there by God’s decree, whether they acknowledge Him or not. (Romans 13).

The state seeks to enslave and control the very souls who God designed to live free.

No man can chain the soul, regardless of the (temporary) power he has been permitted to have by his Creator.

The savior of this world is NOT big government. There is One Savior, One Hope, One Bondage-Breaker.

Darkness will never overcome the Light Of The World, whose Name is Jesus Christ. There is coming a day when every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that He is Lord to the glory of God. (Philippians 2:10-11).

This Memorial Day, I will pray for this country. I will personally thank as many veterans as I can. I will salute the flag. I will sing our National Anthem with tears in my eyes and a heart filled with gratitude.

I will remember the great ones who have gone before us, who have given so much so that we can all know the sweet taste of freedom.

And as long as I have breath, I will speak out against tyranny and stand for freedom.

“Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.”—Bonhoeffer

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My husband and I sat across from each other at a new cafe in a nearby town.

He looked tired and stressed. The usual merry twinkle in his eyes was absent, replaced by the utter weariness that can result from a lengthy wait. We have been in an infuriating holding pattern in recent months, the result of incompetence and seemingly endless miles of red tape.

As I listened to him share how he was feeling, my heart was extremely unsettled.

My husband is a rock. I am the emotional one and he has spent a considerable amount of time over our twenty-one years of marriage reeling me back in, speaking calm words of reassurance and always making me smile or laugh out loud.

Yet he is human, just like me. He is subject to the same frailties, fears, doubts, and insecurities we all share. I dare not place unrealistic expectations on his broad shoulders, looking to him to be to me what only Jesus can be.

But sometimes I do.

We finished lunch and strolled hand-in-hand through an art gallery.

The afternoon sky became grayer and cloudier and his cell phone remained stubbornly silent. I felt a heaviness settle on my heart.

I wanted to FIX this.

I wanted to burst into this person’s office, demand that he do his job and give us what we want already.

But more than that, I got brutally honest with Jesus. “You could fix this,” I reasoned with Him. “Haven’t we waited long enough? What you You doing? For the life of me, I cannot figure it out. This all seems so pointless! Can today just be the end of this, please? Do we really have to wait another day????”

One of my most cherished books is Jesus + Nothing = Everything.  The author (and my pastor from when we lived in Florida) writes about the glorious fact that everything we need, we already have in Jesus as a result of the eternal and abundant life He purchased for us on the cross. I love this book. I practically have it memorized, I have read it so many times. Page after page is highlighted, underlined, starred. I give copies away as gifts. I love the message. I know it is true.

But this afternoon, in a moment of both ruthless honesty and exhaustion,  I wanted my own way more than I wanted Him.

Wow.

That looks really ugly in black and white.

But you know what? That is what faith looks like. It is often a messy, difficult process. A wrestling match of the heart as we seek to deliberately place the truth of God’s Word over our tumultuous, often unreasonable feelings. Or yield to His (perfect) way as opposed to demanding our own (short-sighted, selfish) way.

Jesus did answer my prayer this afternoon.

He said no.

The phone call we had been hoping for did not come. The waiting would continue.

I took a shower. Cried a little. Felt sorry for myself.

But then, I grabbed my Bible and went to my knees.

It always goes back to this…to Him, the One I love the most with all my imperfect, fallible, and fragile heart.

He sees all the ugly that no one else ever sees. Yet He loves me unconditionally, wholly, completely. Nothing I say or do surprises Him. After all, He called me to His side when I was still His enemy, still hopelessly lost in my sin.

He calls me His bride. He tells me that He delights in me and rejoices over me with song. He offers to give me beauty for ashes if I will only trust Him. He redeems and He restores. And He is always about the business of melting my heart of stone and transforming it into a strong and soft and loving heart like His own.

Even when I act like a spoiled brat and look to the creation to give me what only He can, He welcomes me with open arms.

I read His Word, allowing it to penetrate to the depths.

My heart is quieted, soothed by His love letter.

The darkness of self-absorption is gradually replaced by His healing light.

The peace that I had forfeited by my stubbornness once again settled like a blanket over my troubled heart.

Fear gives way to renewed hope in His goodness, whatever comes.

Pride is replaced by humility, as I am once again reminded that I am but dust.

A fretful, complaining spirit gradually disappears I focus on gratitude.

A closed fist, clenched in defiance earlier today, is relaxed into an open hand.

My will is once again aligned with His.

I  make the decision to trust His timing and purposes.

I ask for (and receive) His sweet and freeing forgiveness.

I can fix nothing and no one. I can’t even fix myself. Jesus is the only One who can fill that job description.

I am the clay who will (again) make the choice to yield to the Potter’s loving hands.

And when I do that—when you do that–bondage gives way to freedom.

Every time.

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The letter had been written, typed, and carefully packed into the luggage.

A heart spilled  out onto the page, sharing things that were easier to say with keyboard than with voice.

However, the man for whom the letter was intended would never read it.

His time on earth ended abruptly and he entered eternity just hours before his son would board a plane for a visit with him.

There would be no opportunity to say goodbye, to find closure, to discover what his father had wanted to say when he requested his son’s presence at his bedside.

Things will forever remain unsaid between them.

This is a tragedy.

So much time wasted.

Why do we continue to presume that we have days, months, years?

We have today. This moment. That’s it.

Take stock.

Is there anything left unsaid between you and a loved one?

Say them. Write them. Do whatever you have to do but make it right. (As far as it depends on you).

Let go of the small stuff that tends to accumulate in a heart and looms larger than it ever ought to be.

Humble yourself.

Choose love.

Seek peace.

Forgive…and  watch the self-imposed prison bars in your heart swing wide open to life and light.

In light of eternity, we are here on this spinning ball for but a moment.

Live and love with all your might.

“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.”—Harriet Beecher Stowe

I came home from my walk tonight to see a shocking sight: my husband was giving our 15 1/2 year old daughter her first driving lesson.

I was just totally unprepared to see Julia behind the wheel of her dad’s car. I smiled and gave her the thumbs up. Then I went inside and watched from the window.  Better Doug doing this than me, as he definitely has the temperament for it. Nobody who knows me would ever pair my name with the word “calm.” 🙂

Earlier today, I was leading a discussion group at the Mom To Mom program at our church. We were talking about the things that our kids will remember once they are grown: and it’s NOT how clean the house was. It is the time spent together making memories.

And the laughter. They will always remember the laughter.

I am reminded of a story the late, great Barbara Johnson told in one of her many books.

She had four boys who kept her on her toes all the time.

One day, she came home to find that her sons had whipped up a bowl of red jello…and then promptly took great delight in picking up handfuls of the slippery substance and throwing it against the kitchen wall, marveling at all the cool patterns it made.

Can you imagine?

At that moment, Barbara knew she had a choice to make. She could bring down the hammer (which her boys were clearly expecting her to do) or she could join in the fun.

She chose to join in the fun.

Much to her sons’ total shock, she marched over to the bowl, picked up a giant handful and flung it against the wall with all her might.

Neither Barbara nor her four boys ever forgot the joy of that day. Yes, there was a mess, but messes can be cleaned up and forgotten. In contrast, memories live forever in our hearts.

Memories from my years with Julia ran through my mind as I watched her drive a car for the first time and it was sweet.

Just for today, make the decision to lighten up.

Smile more.

Laugh out loud and often.

Make time for play.

Step out of your comfort zone and into a new adventure.

Look past the mess and see the person in front of you.

Remember that you can have a clean and orderly house when the kids are grown.

Be willing to fully enter into the world of your child, even if it is only for a few moments. Be completely present. Make intentional eye contact. This moment will not come again.

If you have little ones, get down on the floor and play with them.

Be willing to get your hands dirty.

Pull up a stool beside you in the kitchen and let your child help you bake cookies or make a meal.

Dream with your child.

Listen to their prayers.

Cuddle up and read a favorite story. The housework can wait.

Place newspaper over the surface of the kitchen table, pull out some blank construction paper and allow them to paint.

Put on some music and dance.

Pull your kitchen chairs into the living room, grab a bunch of blankets, and make a fort.

Celebrate the gift of now.

Tuck the memories you make deep in your heart. It is those same memories that will bind your heart to your children for the rest of your days.

“Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it.”—L.M. Montgomery