Don't skip Saturday

Why do we skip over Saturday?

The disciples didn't. The women didn't.

Hopeless. Grief-stricken. Crushed by disappointment. Confused. Lost. Angry. Afraid. Hopeful?

Those religious leaders didn't.

Smug. Victorious. Proud. Afraid?

Yes, we skip past Saturday as if nothing happened. We hunt eggs. We have parties. We smile and say, "Sunday's coming!" with joyful anticipation.

We skip past Saturday at our peril. Saturday teaches us that when we have lost all hope, we are not hopeless. It teaches us that when all our best-loved dreams are sealed in a tomb, there is something going on in there we can't see. It teaches us that when the death-blow has seemingly extinguished all light, the Light of the world is still shining. Saturday teaches us to wait. Saturday teaches us that it is human to doubt, feel hopeless, to despair; to feel lost and angry and uncertain.

But thank God, Jesus didn't skip Saturday.

Spirit regenerated. Slashing through hell. Setting captives free. Defeating death. 

Yes friends. Sunday is coming.

We are weak, but He is STRONG!

Addie, would you like to sing a song?

Yes. (With an earnest shake of her darling little head.) Jesuh Yuvs Me.

And sing she did. In fact she sang it over and over and over again all week long. Addie and her big sister Annice and Mommy & Daddy spent last week with us helping us prepare for our big move. It's no surprise that the girl loves music and loves to sing - I mean really - it's in her genes. But it did get almost comical how many times she sang her two year old version of Jesus Loves Me. I guess God knew how much I would need to hang onto those simple words this week.

You see, tragedy struck our extended family again today. Our son-in-law's father died unexpectedly.

I did what I could to help. Grieving with the family, doing dishes, preparing food, helping with the baby. And praying - hard. And all day long the words to Jesus Loves Me went round and round in my head. Speaking conservatively, I probably know hundreds of songs, but this is the one that has ministered to my broken heart today.

Jesus loves me, this I know. For the Bible tells me so...

When tragedy strikes, doubt is often one of our first responses. It's a trick as old as time, yet we fall for it with shocking ease. Satan used it on Eve, "Did God really say?..."

Satan's voice whispers in our ear,
"God is holding out on you. If He really loved you, would he have let ________ (cancer, death, betrayal, divorce, job loss, financial ruin, fill in the blank) happen?
Where is your God now?
Bad things don't happen to good people.
You are cursed.
You are a failure.
God doesn't really love you, you know."

If we do not hold on to what we know of God, those seeds of doubt take root and grow at an alarming rate. Soon all we can see is the darkness, as a forest of doubt trees block our view of the Son.

Little ones to Him belong...

No matter how old I am chronologically, or how "mature" I am (or think I am) spiritually, I'm still His little one. In fact, Jesus said that unless I become like a little child, I have no hope of entering His kingdom. Little ones are vulnerable, they are trusting, they get hurt, they are learning all the time, they make mistakes. That's me. I'm His little one. When hard times come, I have to know that I belong to Jesus. However, in our weakened state, those arrows of doubt can pierce our tender, childlike hearts.

They are weak...

When will we admit it? We are weak.
This one is a pet peeve so excuse me while I go on a bit of a rant. It infuriates me when hard or tragic things happen and people say, "God must know how strong you are." Or the classic twisting of scripture, "God won't give you any more than you can handle."

Hear me loud and clear: THE BIBLE DOES NOT SAY THAT!!!!! (And yes, I AM SHOUTING!)

What the Bible does say is that when we are weak (which is all the time by the way), then His strength comes through. In fact it says that His strength is strongest when we are weakest.

But what do we do? We say things like, "I can handle it." or "I'll be OK." or "I don't need to talk about it, I just need to move on with my life." Why, oh why do we rob ourselves of His amazing strength? Because we're too proud to admit that we are weak.

But He is strong...

Do you know how strong Jesus is? He carried the weight of the sin of the whole world on the cross. That's how strong He is. He willingly died a cruel, criminal and undeserved death on that cross, so that you and I would not have to pay the price for our sin. That's how strong He is. Death could not hold Him in the grave. That's how strong He is. He never sleeps, He's always watching, always praying, always standing in for us. That's how strong He is. Do you know how strong Jesus is? He is STRONG! Oh friend, believe it.

Yes! Jesus loves me...

Weak, battle weary, wounded, confused and childlike, I run into His strong arms because I know He loves me. On a day like today that is the only thing I am sure of. And strangely - it is enough.

I am weak, but He is STRONG. Yes! Jesus loves me.

And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate
us from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord. 
Romans 8:38-39 NLT

Today I was a goat

The last conversation I had with Amy was last Tuesday. She called because she needed help - lots of help. Her rent was past due and going up $50 every day she didn't pay it. Her kids needed diapers. She was out of contact lens solution. She had a court date the following week and couldn't pay her attorney. She was at her wits end. She claimed to have checked with every agency in town. I have no doubt that she did, but she had already exhausted all her options. She was hoping to get in touch with her Dad who had just returned from Afghanistan and could maybe help her with the attorney's fees. She was worried about losing custody of her boys - four and two. My heart broke for her.

I first met Amy two years ago when she came to me for some pastoral counseling. She had left her husband because of domestic abuse. She took her boys and drove to Utah to stay with family for a couple of weeks. When she returned, she was in trouble with the law for running with the kids. Unfortunately, she had never reported the abuse, so the court system did not believe her. She had no job and very little money. She moved in with a lady from our church who ended up kicking her out after a few weeks.

We helped her financially and she was finally able to get into a low-income apartment but her financial struggles did not end. She had back problems from working at Walmart, but was unable to get on SSI. He husband fought her over child support. Her car broke down repeatedly. She just could not get ahead. And Amy had a heart as big as all outdoors. When she did have a little, she shared it or gave it away.

She brought her kids to church as often as she could. The boys loved "Jesus' house." She loved Jesus too and wanted her boys to grow up loving Jesus more than anything. Whether we were able to help her or not, she was always kind and grateful for what we had done. At the end of every conversation, she always said, "I love you Pastor Vicki."

Those were her words to me last Tuesday afternoon when I told her we could not help her this time. After discussing her situation with our benevolence pastor and administrator and checking to see when we had helped her last, it was decided that we would not give her financial assistance this time. I felt like we should have done something - even if it was just a grocery card. But I called her and told her we could not help. She thanked me for all the help we had given her in the past and told me she loved me. Those were the last words I will ever hear her say. Amy died this morning of an apparent overdose.

My heart is broken and my mind is full of regret. See, I felt like our decision not to help at all lacked compassion. I thought we should have done something. But I did not fight for Amy. The worst of it is, I felt the Holy Spirit say, You could buy her some diapers and contact solution. I thought, Yes, I could. But then I didn't. I meant to, but I didn't. I put her and her problems out of my mind. In the end, it may or may not have helped. But I did not do what little I could. Now two little boys do not have a Mama and I will always wonder if a little kindness would have helped her somehow. The "church" didn't help her, but I could have.

I am grateful for the voice of the Holy Spirit in the middle of this tragedy. I know that I am forgiven, but I never want to forget this moment.

The Final Judgment

^{Matthew 25:31-46}

³¹ “But when the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit upon his glorious throne. ³² All the nations will be gathered in his presence, and he will separate the people as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. ³³ He will place the sheep at his right hand and the goats at his left.

³⁴ “Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. ³⁵ For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. ³⁶ I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me.’
³⁷ “Then these righteous ones will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? ³⁸ Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? ³⁹ When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?’
⁴⁰ “And the King will say, ‘I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!’
⁴¹ “Then the King will turn to those on the left and say, ‘Away with you, you cursed ones, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his demons.
  ⁴² For I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me a drink. ⁴³ I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you didn’t give me clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’
⁴⁴ “Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and not help you?’
⁴⁵ “And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’
⁴⁶ “And they will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous will go into eternal life.”

For The Mothers

For some reason this morning I'm feeling the weight of the tragedy that occured in our community this week. A young, talented, likeable 19 year old man was tragically killed in a car accident. Whenever these kinds of things happen in a small community like ours, the ripples (more like shock-waves) are felt through the whole community, whether you were aquainted with the family involved or not. In this case, I did know the family - though not well.

My association with the Cox family came through Little League baseball. For one brief season our families spent a lot of time together. The boys not only played on the same team during the regular season, but went on to the State Tournament in All Stars. Little League is a pretty accurate picture of parenting - good and bad. Parents that never come to games. Parents that come drunk. Parents that scream at the umpires, coaches and kids. I tell you - people's true colors come out down at Stan Hedwall park... Then there are the parents that teach their kids to win and lose well - who spend countless hours sitting on bleachers in the wind and rain and occasional sun - who run the concession stand and serve on the board and groom the fields. This was the Cox family.

I guess my sadness this morning stems from my memories of Tracy Cox. I watched her for years absolutely pour herself into her three boys. I can only imagine the ragged, gaping hole that has been torn in her heart. That suffocating, "I can't breath" kind of pain. I don't want to put myself in her shoes, but somehow I can. It's something no parent EVER wants to experience and most of us go through life thinking that we won't.

I'm thinking of all the times my boys or my daughter have left the house to the sound of my nagging and griping about a hundred insignificant things. About the times that I've overreacted, lashed out in anger and frustration. Not said the life-giving, affirming things they needed to hear.

So today, I'm going to tell them how much I love them. How thankful I am that God allowed me to be their mom. How proud I am - not just for their many accomplishments, but for the fantastic people they have become.

This life on earth is so short. Live fully today.