Bad birthdays

A friend of mine marked his birthday a few days ago. His seven-year-old son passed away two nights prior. Somehow “happy birthday!” did not quite seem to fit the occasion.

Earlier this year, I experienced probably my worst birthday ever (for reasons that do not remotely compare with my friend’s loss). My whole family knew my misery, so when greeting after greeting proclaiming something like, “Hope this is the BEST birthday EVER!!!” scrolled by on my Facebook page, my older daughter looked up at me with a pitiful expression that conveyed, “Ironic, eh?”

I knew the greetings were all coming with good intentions, but it was a little like pouring salt on a wound.

I do realize “happy birthday” is the tried-and-true, standard birthday greeting in our culture. Most often, I use it. But a slew of loved ones celebrating hard birthdays after my own miserable one has gotten me thinking more consciously about something that has been floating around in my mind for years.

Beyond saying, “happy birthday,” I tend to be pretty careful.

For one, I try to avoid nurturing self-centeredness, because we really don’t deserve anything, as the common birthday greeting goes. And the more we think we do deserve a great birthday celebration, the more disappointed we’ll be when something more urgent comes along—or if our day just doesn’t go as hoped.

If I’m going to expand on a simple birthday blessing, I usually try to encourage gratitude. Something along the lines of, “May you be filled with gratitude as you celebrate another year of life today,” might show up in my greeting.

But, as implied, I usually try to keep my greetings a simple birthday blessing, choosing a Bible verse that fits the person. So you might get, “Happy birthday, _____! Be blessed by Psalm 9:10 today,” or something like that. And I do put thought into the chosen verses.

After all, these days of celebration are not all about delicious desserts and warm, fuzzy feelings. They are about celebrating a person, celebrating life, expressing appreciation. They mark the passage of time.

So, on your next birthday, may you be enriched in spirit, rather than in pocketbook. May you rejoice in the milestones of life, rather than the length of your Facebook feed.  And may you be blessed with gratitude much more significantly than gifts.

Even if your bad birthday can’t be happy, may it be blessed.

Meeting God as Father

Two nights ago, my husband launched out of bed after a loud crash sounded somewhere on the upper floor of our home. We had both been sleeping deeply, but his fatherly instincts kicked in and he immediately sought to protect his family. This reminded me not only about how much I love my husband, but about one of the many ways God has used him in my life.

Even as a young adult, I was among the many people who struggle to understand God as Father.

This world is a broken place, and our earthly fathers are certainly among the broken.

While I am entirely convinced today that my fathers (both biological and step-) deeply love and care about me, this was not always the case. One didn’t see me consistently for years, and the other took on the complex situation of step-parenting while still recovering from deep wounds received in other areas of life.

It wasn’t until my late teen years that I began to understand how difficult both life and parenting were for my fathers.

My fathers had my understanding and respect by the time I became a young mother myself, but it was my husband God used to help me understand the beauty of God as Father.  

The first revelation came at nighttime.

We were sleeping in our bedroom in North Dakota. With a baby on the way, our toddler Abigail needed to be moved to the other side of the house, to her own bedroom, and into a “big girl” bed. Things had gone fine, so we were sleeping deeply that night.

That is, we were sleeping deeply until something caused us both to jerk upright in bed. We heard strange, muffled crying. And it sounded like our precious Abigail.

We both headed to her bedroom, my husband Aaron in the lead. To our dismay, we still heard the crying, but her bed was empty, and we could not identify the location of the crying.

I suddenly became transfixed by my husband. He was on a mission, totally and completely, furiously, seeking our daughter. We seemed to search everywhere, we rushed from room to room, he got down on his hands and knees, he put his ear to the floor. Then he jumped up again and dashed back into her bedroom.

He reached under the bed and pulled out our tiny Abigail. She was curled up against the wall—and thus the vent—crying, with her muffled sobs piping into the next room.

He wrapped his arms around her completely, holding her close, soothing and praying for her. She achieved peace in his arms. Somehow she had rolled off of her new bed, gotten lost on her way back up, and ended up in a cramped, scary place. But now she was safe. Nothing could feel safer to that little girl than her father’s arms.

I was active in this hunt for our daughter, frantic in my own motherly instincts, yet I knew exactly what God was revealing to me as I watched my husband fulfill his God-given role. “So that’s what it means!” I said to my heavenly Father as the beauty of His role began to sink in. “You love me that much! You pursue me that fervently! You protect me that fiercely! I’m SAFE with you! Thank you!”

Sometime shortly thereafter, just to make sure I got the message, another very clear incident happened.

Aaron was heading to warm up the car while I carried the baby in his carseat down the steps. Abigail was at my side, but slipped and tumbled down the last stone steps, falling toward the gravel. Aaron was yards away, but was there in a moment, almost before she hit the rocks. Again the look on his face was priceless. He was going to save his little girl. He was going to protect her. And when he didn’t get there fast enough to cushion the fall, He made up for it through the comfort he provided.

“Thank You, Lord,” I declared, “not only for Abigail being OK and for this wonderful husband, but for revealing Yourself to me. You don’t want me to fall, but, when I do, You will comfort me. You are my Father and Protector, my Comforter, all wrapped into One.”

We live in a broken world, but God gives us glimpses of His glory. And coming to know Him as Father through my husband has certainly been a transformative glimpse for me.

 Abigail knew she could trust and admire her father at a very young age. For that, I am very thankful. 

A blood moon for Holy Week

Last night my teen-aged daughter informed me that one of her friends thought the “blood moon” meant that Christ was returning during the dark watch of the night (see Revelation 6:12 to understand what inspired her thinking).

“That would be awesome!” I responded.

“No, she’s scared,” my daughter explained. “She doesn’t want Him to return yet. She wants to get married first.”

I instantly flashed back to college and sitting in a fast food restaurant with some friends. The topic of Christ’s return had come up, and I had sheepishly admitted that I wasn’t in a big hurry for that event, because I did want to get married and have a family.

A good friend of mine across the table looked at me as if I had horns growing out of my head, “Are you kidding?!?” he declared. “Nothing—nothing will be better! I am definitely ready!”

It was nice of him to put me in my place, because I did need to do some thinking and praying about that. After all, anything good on this earth is only an imperfect glimpse of Who God is and what He offers.

Years later, I am absolutely grateful and thrilled about my life (almost J) every day. I do not think I could have a better husband. My children are amazing gifts I do not deserve. I enjoy experiencing life with them each day, anticipating events to come, even imagining holding grandchildren in my arms in a decade or two.

But I know without question that Jesus is better. I am firmly convinced heaven is better. And if Jesus returned this week, well, there would be nothing more ecstatic as far as I’m concerned.

In fact, what a way to celebrate Holy Week: not only contemplating Christ’s sacrifice and resurrection, but anticipating His return!

Instead of planning an Easter banquet, we can look forward to the wedding feast of the Lamb (Revelation 19).

Rather than deciding how much chocolate we keep for ourselves versus how much ends up in pastel baskets and plastic eggs, we can smack our lips in anticipation of total, utter completeness in Christ (Philippians 1:6).

Instead of evaluating whether churches “these days” celebrate Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, etc., as well as days gone by, we can examine our priorities, and prayerfully consider whether we’re using our lives in a way worthy of Christ’s imminent return (Psalm 90:12).

If it takes a blood moon to put Easter in perspective, to awaken a longing for heaven, so be it.

 “He who testifies to these things says, ‘Yes, I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus” (Revelation 22:20). 

Breakthrough prayer

The news was sobering. “If their fevers don’t go down, we’ll have to admit them to the hospital tonight,” our program director informed us.

Two of our camp counselors had just returned from the doctor’s office, and they were now being cared for at the nurse’s station. We were concerned for our friends. “Todd especially seems delirious,” our leader told us. “We really need to pray for their healing.”

And that’s what we did.

Thom and I got on our knees by the couch in the program director’s office. We called out to God, we claimed promises from Scripture, we asked God to bring healing to our friends. We were young, zealous, and full of faith. So we wrestled in prayer.

Suddenly there was a strong sense of release. I was flooded with peace. I wasn’t sure whether Thom sensed it too, but we looked at each other with big smiles on our faces. We sensed victory. I felt a deep inner conviction that God had answered our prayer.

Just moments later, the program director returned to his office, relief on his face. “He’s fine,” he told us, “the fever has broken.”

Thom and I smiled at each other again. “We know,” I said. And we had known. God had made it clear to us that He had responded to our prayer (see John 14:12-15).

So we went down to the nurse’s station to talk with our friends, testifying to what God had done.

Years later, I look back on that instance and reflect on why we don’t have this type of obvious breakthrough more often. Is it because our specific flavor of Christianity does not really make room for that type of experience? Are we nervous to have that kind of faith because if it doesn’t “turn out right,” God might not be as big as we think He is? Does it rattle us because we haven’t quite figured out the theology of all that?

One thing I do see: God did something wonderful for two college students who were growing in their faith and serving Him. He glorified Himself in a powerful way so that we could, in turn, glorify Him through our lives. I have never forgotten that experience, and it certainly enriched my prayer life during a time of exceptional growth.

Still today I have times when I definitely feel called upon to pray. A few months ago I was folding laundry when I was compelled to pray fervently for a friend of mine who has struggled to bring a baby to full term. I wrestled and claimed promises, asking God to reveal Himself through bringing this baby safely into the arms of his anxious parents.

My friend did not call and say, “Wow, I thought I was going to miscarry this morning but I’m feeling fine now!” But she does have a son in her arms now, born prematurely, but growing healthy and strong. Did God use me in that? Perhaps. But not because I’m so wonderful or godly; it was more likely because I was obedient when He was recruiting prayer warriors.

Prayer is powerful because God is powerful (see Jeremiah 33:3).

Ele Parrott says it well: “As you can see, praying is the most powerful tool we have as believers. We just don’t get it, do we? It’s like having an atomic bomb in our hands and playing with it as if it were a squirt gun.”

Put the squirt guns down, fellow prayer warriors. Let’s aim for breakthrough prayer. 

There's a Name for that

The truth washed over me like a refreshing spring rain:

There’s a Name for that.

No matter what the circumstance, no matter the nature of the trial, there is a Name of God that addresses it.

For the couple nearing retirement who finds themselves unemployed: Jehovah-Jireh.  God provides. 

For the postpartum mom whose fears keep her awake during the night: God of Angel Armies (see Haggai 2:7). 

For the parent whose patience is being worn thin by a grouchy teenager: Elohim. He will give you strength to be patient when provoked.

And we don’t need to memorize intimidating Hebrew names to tap into the unlimited resources of God. We can simply praise Him for His patience, protection and provision. We can meditate on Who He is and what He has done.

After all, praise puts things in perspective. (See http://thebookoflifeblog.blogspot.com/2014/03/praise-puts-things-in-perspective.html.)

To begin lifting your focus from the trial before you to the Solution above you, try starting each day with this tool: https://www.navigators.org/www_navigators_org/media/navigators/tools/Resources/Praying-the-Names-of-God-The-Navigators.pdf. Don’t just read the Name or attribute, but burn it into your mind and heart for that day. Then, when the trial comes, you pull out the truth: God is sufficient. God is just. God is our intercessor.

To take it up a notch, use this book that God used in my life: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/15985078-the-30-day-praise-challenge?from_search=true. (The e-book happens to be on sale for only $1.99 this Saturday, March 29, at www.christianbook.com.)

Start making praise the focus of your day. You will get to know God better; and that, fellow sojourner, will help you live better.

My God is much bigger than the iPhone. 

Praise puts things in perspective

I was driving one day when I turned on the radio to a program I don’t usually listen to. The content caught my attention so much that I actually tuned in the home stereo upon my return to the house. I sat on the couch, knitting and listening to the interview.

It was not even the conversation itself that gripped me as much as a sense that God was telling me, “This information is for you. You’re going to use this.”

I didn’t finish the hour-long program, but I did order three copies of the featured resource, thinking I would use them in ministry to someone yet to be determined.

By the time the copies of The 30-Day Praise Challenge by Becky Harling arrived, I knew I was sending one to my mother. She and my stepfather have been going through some heavy trials in the past year, and I thought it would be a nice encouragement to go through this praise challenge with her. We began the experiment with childlike anticipation. 

By about day 7, I was like a giddy girl who receives a gift “just because.” I had quickly become aware that God laid this challenge on my heart to change me.

This has been a tough homeschooling year for me. Sparing you the details, I will just say that I have had many discouraging, overwhelming days when my mind knows the truth, but I can’t get my heart and emotions to align with what I believe.

But a week into the praise challenge, I could tell a change had already come over me. I was hesitant to rejoice about this life development too openly. “Is this going to last?” I asked myself.

However, yesterday was day 30, and the change is still here.

The bottom line: Praise puts things in perspective. And I appear to have had a long-term perspective change.

I have taught that good truth about praise for years. We as believers tend to overlook praising God, jumping right into our many requests. But if we approach God with awareness and gratitude for Who He is, all our concerns and requests are viewed rightly: dwarfed in the presence of a mighty, loving God.

I knew this, but clearly I was not living it as well as I could have been.

Through her book, Harling taught me to incorporate the discipline—the joy—of praise into each day. I have spent 20-or-so holy minutes worshiping Him for Who He is, journaling about what I’m learning during this time, etc. And this has changed the way I think throughout the day.

When I feel like I’m about to lose patience with a child who has done a poor job on a chore yet again, I proclaim, “I praise You for Your strength! I praise You for Your patience!”

When I am trying to charge the battery of the vehicle on a sub-zero morning and my cell phone drops deeply into the mechanical maze under the hood, I say, “I praise You for Your goodness! I praise You for being mighty to save!”

What a change from, “Please warm my bleeding hands and help me get this car started, so I can get my daughter to school on time!”  

The difference: God is bigger than all of my trials—big and small. I acknowledge it, believe it, and rejoice in it.

Challenges grow much smaller that way.

Again, praise puts things in perspective. May I forever praise Him (see Psalm 63:4).

This song by Francesca Battistelli nicely encapsulates the key benefit to praising God. 

The Amazing Airport Run

In some ways, it made sense to have me drive Crystal to the airport. In other ways, I was not the best choice.

Crystal had been serving as a counselor all summer at Center Lake Bible Camp, but now she needed to head home to prepare final details for her upcoming wedding. I had been her supervisor and mentor, so we had the relationship that lent itself to taking a long car ride together.

But I did not have much driving experience, and neither Crystal nor I knew the area. And this was in the days before cell phones and GPS.

But off we went to the airport, praying for safety and fellowship, and following vague directions like, “Get on Highway ____ and go south. There will be an airport sign to follow.”

The car trip started nicely enough. We did talk through the summer, discuss Crystal’s upcoming wedding plans, and have good time in prayer.

As we approached the area where we expected to see an airport sign, we kept our eyes alert. We thought we recalled being told, “You can’t miss it,” but we were getting the sense we had missed it.

I can only imagine what Crystal was really feeling. She showed few outward signs of panic, but, looking back, it was likely much more stressful than she had been expressing. She was flying home for her WEDDING, and it was becoming clear that we might not get her to the airport on time.

We kept driving.

This story is actually quite embarrassing—how it reveals my lack of good direction-seeking decisions at this early stage in my driving experience. Maybe we did not stop to ask for directions because we were on an interstate. It probably had something to do with the fact that we kept thinking, “They said we couldn’t miss it; surely it will be around the next corner.”

We kept driving! And we prayed.

Finally, I said (as Crystal sat even lower in her seat and I was inwardly, painfully aware of how deeply I had messed this up for her), “When it comes time for your flight to take off, we’ll turn around.”

So, when the clock turned exactly to her flight time, we took the next exit. And then I had reason to beat myself up again. “Good grief!” I thought to myself (all the while keeping my dismay contained for Crystal’s sake, as she was clearly doing for me), “I picked an exit where we can’t turn around!”

I apologized and looked for the next opportunity to get ourselves going in the right direction again. We approached a sign informing us of upcoming exits. One of the exits said, “Airport Road.” I looked at Crystal with my eyebrows raised in question. “Should we?” I asked with a smile.

At this point, I figured, “Why not?” So I took the Airport Road exit, knowing full well that this was not what our direction-giver had in mind. We were substantially south of our target.

Airport Road proved to be a disappointment at first. It quickly became what felt like a back road, with almost nothing on it. But after driving about a mile or so, we came up behind what looked like a small airport. I followed the signs that led to the main entrance.

I pulled into the airport and saw a sign for the airline Crystal had planned to take. I said, “It’s worth a try,” and I pulled into a parking spot. “Well?” I inquired. Crystal responded with an uncertain smile.

“I’ll ask!” I said, as I unloaded her suitcase from the back of the van.

We walked into the front door, carrying her luggage, with me holding her ticket in my hand.

I marched up to the gate agent (who had no line at all) and said with a smile, “This is Crystal. She is trying to get home to her wedding. I got us lost and she missed her flight, but it’s with your airline. Can you honor this ticket?”

The gate agent looked over the ticket, looked over the two hopeful young women before her, and shrugged.

“Sure!” she said as she stamped the ticket with gusto. “Why not?!”

And, God be praised, Crystal was able to go from despair to jubilation.

We received further instruction and headed to the possibly only gate this small airport had.

We had a little time to spare, so we decided to get some lunch. We were the only ones eating at the practically empty airport, so the young man making our food gave us about six extra pieces of bacon each.

Crystal and I laughed to each other. “Wow! This trip has gone from being horrible to being wonderful!”

We certainly agreed that God had blessed us. He had taken an absolute disaster and turned it into what really looked like a miracle.

We had driven, driven, driven, farther and farther away from our destination. Of all the exits we could have taken on that interstate, we had taken one that had seemed wrong because it had no return ramp. Driving on what seemed like a poorly chosen highway, we had seen a sign for an exit simply called Airport Road, which we had taken in faith and with a spirit of adventure. Airport Road led us to an airport, where a generous gate agent allowed us to use an invalid ticket to get Crystal to the chapel on time.

We were giddy with the glory of it.

Like I said, this was before the days of cell phones, so I don’t remember what happened with those who were to meet her on the other end, but I do distinctly remember waving good-bye to Crystal as she boarded that plane with a huge smile on her face. And I strongly remember the awareness that God had been very, very good to us.

I kept this airport receipt as a tangible reminder of how God miraculously got Crystal home for her wedding, despite my failures.