“Then He said to His disciples, ‘The harvest truly is plentiful, but the laborers are few.  Therefore pray the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into His harvest.'”  Matthew 9:37-38

Last night, I had an endearing moment in the most unexpected place.  A bit of a reminder of how God uses us in all sorts of ways–simple ways–when are our hearts are willing.

My grandmother now resides in a skilled nursing facility near me.  By God’s grace, when she became unable to live independently anymore, the one remaining spot in this facility was available for her to take.

My grandma and I were not particularly close when I was growing up.  I saw even less of her as an adult.  When her health declined, I was asked to guide her and the remaining family–in part because of my experiences and training–through the end stages of her care and life.  It turns out, the end wasn’t so near.

Due to my training, I stressed how important active and consistent advocacy is for a loved one.  And when an opening occurred so close, I firmly knew God was answering a prayer of mine…that she be close in proximity to someone who could advocate for her.  I just didn’t expect to be the one physically closest to her.

But I am not in this alone.  My cousin, whose mom passed away shortly after my dad, stepped up.  Both of our parents were our grandmother’s children.  My aunt, her only remaining daughter, has also been advocating for her.  We take turns, in sorts, checking on the status of things and visiting, participating in care meetings and managing how she is treated.  She has lived much longer than anyone has expected.

Since I am closer, I often make an evening visit to make sure she is in bed or to see how the day has gone.  I have become well acquainted with the staff and those residents who are out when I visit, familiar with their names and a bit of their stories.

Quite some time ago, an older gentleman came to the facility.  He has the deepest, saddest eyes.  I learned his name, in the beginning, because the staff would often have to remind him–by name–that he needed to stay seated.  Sometimes, during a visit, I would see his wife and maybe an adult child sitting with him quietly.  His wife would be tenderly holding his hand.

And so, in my visits, if he was out, I would say, “Hi Virgil” as I walked by.  Sometimes he would smile.  Sometimes he would nod.  Occasionally he would give a little wave.  Less frequently, a blank stare into space.  No great effort on my part.  Just a hello coupled with his name.

Last night as I was leaving, I walked by and said the same words again, but this time, he motioned for me to come back.  I turned around and did so, and as I drew closer, he asked my name.  “Michelle,” I said with a smile on my face.  His eyes looked confused, and he shook his head like that name didn’t ring a bell.

I leaned over and quietly said, “I come to visit my grandma, and in doing so, I learned your name.  You don’t know me, but I have been saying ‘hi’ as I go by.”  He asked how long she had been in the facility, and I shared that with him.  He then shared how long he had been there.  In more words than I had ever heard him speak, he told me that he was hoping he would get better and be able to leave.  A hope they all long for…

As I stood back up, he went back to the hello with these words that struck my soul, “You’ve really helped me…made it easier to be here.  It has truly helped me get through and has meant a lot.”  Those sad eyes looking deeply into my soul letting me know the power behind a simple hello.  A confirmation that it is important to them that you know they exist and know their name…that it gives hope in the darkness of their trial.

Again, I smiled and slowly nodded as I quietly thanked God for those nudges to say “Hello, Virgil.”  As I looked up and saw several other residents sitting in the various places waiting to be put to bed, I wondered how many others experience someone walking by as if they don’t exist.  No eye contact.  No acknowledgment.  No brief interaction to let them know we understand that they are there, trapped inside…for some.  And for most, no real options out of where they are.

And so, I pondered how often does this exist in our everyday interactions, or lack thereof, outside of those walls?

My friends, it takes as little as two words to mean something to someone else.  To convey mercy, to give empathy, and to awaken hope…

“But if you had known what this means, ‘I desire mercy and not sacrifice,’ you would not have condemned the guiltless.”  Matthew 12:7

 

Now that Easter has passed and the baskets have found their homes, a calm quiet has returned to our lives.  Though the idea of relaxing and doing “nothing” has its tempting draw, I have continued to carry an orange folder with me; not letting it get too far away for fear that I will misplace it or lose it.

You see, this simple file holds something so precious.  Things that I truly don’t want to forget.

When we started making Easter baskets some eleven years ago, we were blessed to be able to actually hand them out to families and individuals at our local food pantry.  We have ever since.  The food pantry was largely volunteer driven and really didn’t have any volunteers to spare to hand out baskets.  As a result, a door opened for us to meet those who were receiving our baskets.

Within a couple of years, God had laid strongly on my heart that not only should they receive a basket for their children (or if they were seniors, themselves), but that we should offer to pray for their needs.  And so, we began asking, “Do you have any prayer requests that we can say for you in the days ahead?”  I had a little note pad ready to write it down so that they knew we weren’t going to force them to pray in the moment.

For years, nothing.  At most, very little.  One by one, they would walk by and say, “I am good.”  “I am fine.”  And so we began to pray and wonder, “How could that be?”  Then one year, the food pantry decided to move us to a house next door to the actual warehouse.  At first I wasn’t sure what to think, but being grateful to still be a part of the process, we went with the move.

And something happened.  Something we had been praying for.

One by one, as we asked, “Is there anything we can pray for you over this Easter season and through the spring?”, they began to share.  I remember being dumbstruck at the end of the day with the list that we had accumulated.  Not only did they share their concerns, but so many times, the tears would be brimming in their eyes and their arms would open for a reassuring hug.

And we realized that the quiet little house next door had created an environment of privacy that wasn’t able to be achieved standing in line at a warehouse to receive food. What seemed inconvenient for all involved turned out to be exactly what was needed to facilitate sharing vulnerable concerns.  Over the next four years, we grew in knowing about their lives, their families and what was weighing on their hearts.

So, this year, when the food pantry told me they were moving us back to the warehouse, I wasn’t quite sure what to think.  My mind went back to the years of having people be hesitant to share.  Without any alternatives, we decided to see what God was doing and pray that somehow their hearts would remain open.

And they did.  Those four years of hugs and tears conquered most fears and hesitations when they recognized our faces and familiar question.  Though we were a stopping point in the system, they eagerly and briefly shared what they could before moving on to the next station.  Tears rose in their eyes, updates were shared, new trials were relayed, and hugs were given.

Before I knew it, my orange folder became this year’s list.  It was holding a few key documents that were quickly shed for the blank space that was needed to house their requests.  By the end of the day and with an overwhelmed heart, I stood in awe of what these people were going through.

A case manager saw all the writing in my orange folder and asked if anything was wrong.  “Those are a lot of notes you are taking about changes for next year!”  I smiled as I clutched my folder close to me, “They are not notes like that.  They are the things going on in your clients’ lives.”  She appeared slightly shocked.

It is not hard to get lost in a sea of baskets.  The numbers sometimes are truly overwhelming.  So, when people looked surprised by how many God enables us to make, I try to remember the look on their faces.  And in trying not to get lost or indifferent to the numbers, I find that stopping to look at each one of the baskets…how different they are…admiring their unique theme…seeing the creativity that the builder used…taking in the love and caring that was put into it…imagining the delight on the child’s face when he or she receives it…is how I find myself not lost in the sea, but rather found.  Not lost in the numbers trudging before me, but instead, inspired to know each one.

It is easy sometimes to think people just need to eat.  That they just need money.  That physical, tangible help, education, clothes, food, an on and on is what is truly important. But I beg to differ…

If you look at my folder, you will find that there are larger needs at play in their lives. Emotional and spiritual ones that cannot be resolved with a check or a bag of food.  Grief, loss, disease, addiction, strained relationships, fear, hopelessness, isolation, difficult transitions, anger, broken hearts, dying loved ones, slow progress…and that is just to name a few.

Right here.  Among us.  In the line at the grocery store.  Pumping gas at the local gas station.  Possibly even next door.  All too often afraid to share because it is too vulnerable and maybe others won’t understand.

Right here.  The need for prayer.  The need for emotional and spiritual support.  The need for an authentic hug.  The need for a listening, caring set of ears and eyes.  It is right here among us, waiting to be asked.  Waiting to be found in the sea of need that is our world.

Folders full, I have no doubt.

“Oh, bless our God, you peoples!  And make voices of His praise to be heard, who keeps our soul among the living, and does not allow our feet to be moved.  For You, O God, have tested us; You have refined us as silver is refined.  You brought us into the net; You laid affliction on our backs.  You have caused men to ride over our heads; we went through fire and through water; but You brought us out to rich fulfillment.”  Psalm 66:8-12

Amen.

By now you may have gathered that I have a strong affinity for words and their definitions.

Last week, I went out to meander through some stores.  The weight of what I have been processing through in the past couple of months felt especially heavy, and I have found that shopping—even just window shopping—brings a little bit of joy and relief to my heart. This time, though, there was not much respite from those feelings.  Walking through the stores reminded me of the many times I had been shopping with my mother-in-law, Mary Ann.  Wandering the stores together encouraging, teasing, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company (and tastes) now made the experience feel so very empty.  It did not seem to matter what store I went to; they all lacked the warmth that they once held.  Almost as if a foreign, yet familiar, landscape that has to be relearned—alone, in the light of grief and loss.

At one store, in the clearance section, I found this little sign posted above.  I thought it was cute, loved the definition, and couldn’t beat the price.  I also knew right where I would put it.  So I bought it and took it home…

Interestingly, within moments of hanging it on my wall above my writing space, the definition began to speak deeply to my heart.  Maybe it is all this processing of losses, prior hurts, grief, conditioned and unconditional love, where I received it and where I didn’t, how I have given it, when and where, and most importantly, do I–by its actual definition and not my own–love? Do I live well what is so easy to say?

And, I think its definition speaks to what I often crave.  To be cherished.  A deep fear I had with the passing of some of those who have loved me well.  The kind whose eyes light up when you enter a room, whose voices convey a warm, welcoming and affectionate tone that reminds you of how much they delight in you.  The ones who let you know just how much they have benefited from being with you.

This week, I came across another aspect of love and devotion worth exploring, Ezekiel 18:19-20:  “Yet you say, ‘Why should the son not bear the guilt of the father?’  Because the son has done what is lawful and right, and has kept all My statutes and observed them, he shall surely live.  The soul who sins shall die.  The son shall not bear the guilt of the father nor the father bear the guilt of the son.  The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon himself.”  The Bible notes attached to this scripture led me to others that encourage each person to live by God’s ways…to truly live them out, not just say we follow them.  “Keep My statutes and My judgments, which if a man does, he shall live by them.”  Leviticus 18:5.  In doing so, such conduct, behaviors, and choices establish and prove our love for God as well as others.

Further, Ezekiel 18 notes that our love and attachment to one another, even in familial relationships, does not necessarily bind us to their sins or ways.  Fathers and sons, daughters and mothers, do not pay for each other’s sin in God’s eyes; we are not cursed by the wrongs or mistakes that another has done.  Nor are we trapped in generational cycles of sin with no escape.  Instead, each generation is free to choose a different course.  Hopefully, the right path of His ways.

One of the notes went on to state that God’s “judgments” are the judicial decisions that come up in life in situations that might not be fully explained in His statutes.  New King James Study Bible, notes to Leviticus 18:4,5.  The application, or non-application, of His law to the unique circumstances that will arise as life changes and morphs. Think of it this way, our legislatures pass laws that are often in response to specific needs or situations that arise at a certain time and clearly need to be governed.  In those laws, they are tailored by what is seen and known, yet as time goes by, the intention might need to extend to other circumstances that later arise.

Our courts, then, interpret, expound upon, and better define the law making it even more useful to society through judicial decisions issued in case law.  In addition, in many cases, judges decide that the law really doesn’t apply to the set of facts before them, and therefore, wasn’t meant to govern in that setting.  In the legal arena, we look at what rules apply and then whether there are any possible exceptions; what does the rule of law cover and what falls outside of its reach.  A case by case approach which determines when, if and how best to apply a law to a set of facts.  It is one of the wonderful ways this country was designed to work together in a lasting and interactive way.

The scripture in Ezekiel 18, that speaks directly to the parent-child relationship, led me to ponder more deeply a part of the law laid down by God in the Ten Commandments. Specifically, the “honor thy parents” command.  (Exodus 20:12).  It is something known in most homes around the world, often based solely on position that a parent naturally holds as the child’s authority when born.  Listening, learning, respecting and honoring our parents is taught across most cultures.  It is a general rule of law in most households.

As such, it seems pretty straightforward and simple, but now let us go deeper with that general rule and consider where there might be exceptions.  Exceptions!?!  Is there ever?What about the circumstances of some children whose parents are not honoring God; who are instead abusing or hurting or neglecting their children and/or others?  What about the parent who is even less conspicuous, who belittles, berates, ignores, manipulates, demands, uses, or deprives a child of comfort, esteem or care?  The parent who is not operating in the betterment of their child but for their own gratification, ego or needs.  Or, how about the one who expects perfect performance and domination in everything and every opportunity that comes in front of their child such that the child is continually and repeatedly having to prove his or her worth by achievements?

And as the child grows into adulthood, and begins to process through the reflection of moments that have spanned over a lifetime–if the heart is willing–can we brave enough to ask what does “honor” mean and when should it apply?  How often, as parents or children, do we stop and look at what is being asked by us or of us and whether it really falls within “honorable”?  Do we really even know what it means?

Honor involves so many things: honesty, respect, merit, integrity, fairness, esteem.  www.dictionary.com.  “To show a courteous regard for.”  Id.  On the flip side of what sounds so good and nice is part of the definition that often binds us to unreasonable expectations–easily twisted so that “honor” automatically means “to accept as valid or conform to request or demands of.” Id.  No questions asked; just do it.

Lest you wonder whether it is appropriate to question about how and when to honor, let me share with you the scripture has helped me to understand that not all parental decisions come from living by His standard.  Not all parental behavior or choices are right by the mere position of authority, nor does God want those behaviors duplicated in the next generation:

“But I said to their children in the wilderness, ‘Do not walk in the statutes of your fathers, nor observe their judgments, nor defile yourselves with their idols.

I am the Lord your God:  Walk in My statutes, keep My judgments, and do them; hallow My Sabbaths, and they will be a sign between Me and you, that you may know that I am the Lord your God.'”  Ezekiel 20:18-20

In this life, we need to understand that honoring God comes by living, keeping and doing His ways; letting His statutes, His judgments and His rest be the sign in our lives that we are His.  That also means that we must turn away from any contrary influences that exist within us, even when the influence may have been passed down from our parents.  A wrong or harmful pattern, or coping mechanism, that may have developed in our lives which needs to be corrected.  No longer justifying its use just because we have seen someone else use it before. Not blindly accepting a method’s validity because we have watched the pattern garner a false sense of honor or control or influence.

Moreover, Deuteronomy 30:15-20 sheds additional light on our need for His words to permeate the depths of how we live our lives with each arising circumstance, rather than keeping His words taught and restricted to only exacting situations that are easy to identify, thereby limiting their influence.  Yes, we always need to honor our parents, but with the understanding that there may be times when following or mirroring their choices or behaviors is not honoring God, nor really even them.  Choosing to change within ourselves is the best hope for honor today and for tomorrow.

And “honor” requires that we truly comprehend the meaning behind the word.  The definition speaks of honesty, integrity, doing right over wrong, building esteem, being courteous.  In essence, living life His way.  It doesn’t advocate that we automatically conform to someone’s commands, desires, wants or demands without weighing it on the scales of right and wrong.  Understanding that this general rule calls not only for courteous treatment, but also honesty, which may mean we have to speak up as never before. Integrity goes one step further and teaches that we may need to find the courage to stop, prevent or dismantle patterns that have allowed us (and others) to be used or treated in a way that God does not condone.  Honoring God and His ways first might mean finding a way to not allow our self-esteem to be torn down, or even better, becoming astute at building others up rather than knocking them down as we may have been taught.

For more clarity, let us take a quick peek at the antonyms of honor, the very words that convey the opposite of its intentions.  Debasement, degradation, derision, disgrace, dishonor, disrespect, humiliation, blemish, stigma, ill repute.  www.dictionary.com. But let’s get into the meatier words that we might see on a more regular basis in relationships: censor, condemnation, reproach, betray, denounce, shame, berate, criticize, disapproval, jeering. Id.  Can you see how the opposite of honor can be used to give someone else power and control?  Where a person might demand as they berate another that the person give them the “respect” they deserve by taking their abuse?  Or someone using disapproval and shame to manipulate another into honoring an unreasonable request. Can we understand that the above words are not honorable?  Would supporting such a misuse in the name of “honoring” (conforming or accepting to) another really be the intention of the rule God gave us?  When wrongly using the rule of honoring that person may be fashioning their own judgments, statutes and idols that forces others to follow them.  Could this misuse be why He stresses we, as His children, truly need to follow Him…to truly understand His ways?  Can we really say that we are honoring God when we choose or accept one or any those wrong ways over His way?

The beautiful thing is that the scripture continues on to remind us that each day we actually do have a choice…between life and good and death and evil.  Between what we have known and what He has to offer…

“See, I set before you today life and good, death and evil, in that I command you today to love the Lord your God, to walk in His ways…”  Deuteronomy 30:15-16

How, why, and whether you honor someone correctly will lead to life or death in your relationships and inside of you.  Being asked to continue to bear what is harmful leads to only more pain, suffering and resentment.  Following and duplicating those patterns in your adult life only perpetuates pain for future generations.  Today, we have the choice to become aware that what we may be being asked or told to endure by another, or what we might be imposing on someone else, may not really be about honoring in the first place. Sometimes, the poor choices of another (or ourselves) have trapped us in a prison God is trying to break us out of…

Truly, our best hope is that each day we can choose to love Him, to walk in His ways, and to keep His commandments, statutes and judgments understanding that in genuinely doing so “you might live and multiply; and the Lord your God will bless you in the land which you go to possess”.   Id., verse 16.  Trusting Him that stepping out and stopping negative patterns is where real honor and life is found.  It is also probably the truest form of love.

Opportunities each day bring life or death, blessing and cursing.  To live His word out in an active, cleansing, growing and shining way that fights and stops the misuse of connections, expectations and rules…because today He is saying there is another way.  And tomorrow does not have to be dictated by yesterday.  Choices that will not only lead us to a better, fuller land, but will positively impact our descendants.  Decisions that illustrate you love Him, that you obey His ways, and that you “cling to Him, for He is your life and the length of your days…” Id., verse 19.

To cling is “to adhere closely to…to hold tight…to be or remain close…to remain attached to…to cohere…”  www.dictionary.com (emphasis mine).  Ah, and so it comes full circle. “Attachment” is one of the synonyms for “love” on my new sign.  To love in such a way that we become so attached to Him that we shed the old ways and adhere more closely to His.  Not ignorantly or unfairly using His rules to benefit us, but instead learning to understand when, how, where, why, and if they apply.  Really, when you think about the words on that sign, how could the antonyms of honor ever convey to another that they are cherished, that tenderness exists, or that we take pleasure in their company?  Where is deep affection found in berate, criticize, or denounce?  How does censoring or condemning another show fondness or intimacy or that they are needed in our lives?   Do those negative patterns truly attach us to another in love, or instead slowly work to break down relationships by reinforcing control, hurt and apprehension?

It is fundamental that we let His truths be lived out correctly in our lives while attributing all things to Him in praise and thanksgiving for what He is transforming in us.  This love–deep, affectionate, and cherishing–should inspire us to put down ways that are not of Him, while allowing our tender need for Him to guide us on how best to honor those around us.

“For this commandment which I command you today is not too mysterious for you, nor is it far off….But the word is very near you, in your mouth and in your heart, that you may do it.”  Deuteronomy 30:11, 14

Sometimes when I am searching for rocks, I don’t always take home the treasures that I find.  Bent over the clear water, I search for the love of finding something unique even if it means I only observe for a few moments…sometimes never taking it out of the water. Really it depends upon what my goal is and whether I have room for what I discover.

You see, in the beginning, I would hungrily take every beautiful rock I came across.  It was exciting to fill my pockets with these new wonders.  I couldn’t bear to leave one in the shallows wondering if it would ever be appreciated again.  I was sure I had a place for it… somewhere!

Within short order, I learned a few things. One, those rocks are stunning in the water, but not so pretty dried out.  Patterns that danced in the daylight under the pressure and refraction of the gliding water faded into obscurity of grey dullness when toweled off by the air and sunlight.  Water is what they need to bring out their inner beauty.  Secondly, I found that there were always more rocks with each new search, which meant I really needed to think on whether to add the new find to my collection.  Lastly, apart from being in the lake, they really needed something to hold them.  Piles of dry grey rocks here and there bring little value to the wonder that they are when they are wet.

Suddenly I needed containers that could best house my growing collection.  To my favorite store I ran and began to search for the best apothecary (or even cookie) jars that would house both the rocks and some water.  Balance in my decorating use of these stones and jars required that I weed out the best and return the rest.  Soon, my jars were holding the very best gems from my trips.

And so, it has also been similar in my journey with God.  When I wrote of sitting by the fire, I mentioned that not only did I have my Bible that I was reading and thinking upon, but also I had my journal near.  Now, please understand, I am not a  person who has ever kept a diary.  Nor I am someone who is rigid about routines.  Somehow, though, along the way in my walk with God, I realized I needed somewhere to put His gems of truth that I was finding.  A journal turned out to be the best storage place for my thoughts and His word.

In the beginning of my gathering stones, I tried to keep it rather simple.  A plain glass cookie jar definitely held my rocks well.  Of course, as I continued to gather and look, I found an amazing three part set of stacking glass sections that really marveled the eye with its layers to explore.  It seemed that every trip to the store offered a slightly new and different way to display my treasures.

The same could be said when it comes to documenting.  You might find that creating a word document or something on Google docs really helps.  For another, it might be a simple spiral bound notebook just like if you were in class.  And for myself, I tried both.  I liked both, but one day, I was at a store and came across a beautiful leather bound journal. Pricier than spiral bound, but not by too much.  And since I like pretty and inspiring things, these type of journals have become my preferred spot to write.  I pick up a new one about half way through my current one, or when I just can’t pass up on the quote that is displayed on the cover.

Now you might be wondering where I am going with this?  Why is a journal important? Because much like the stones that will dry out and fade into obscurity if not displayed in a way that they can be seen, the same will happen with your thoughts on Scripture.  You’ll think, and then it will be gone.  A verse might jump off the page at you and zing your heart, but if it has no where to land, you may not find it again or remember why it really spoke to you at that moment.

More so, this collection–if you begin one–when brought together might display things to you on reflection that you didn’t see when you initially found it.  Days and verses will begin to guide your thoughts back to a needed area and help you dig deeper.  Themes may begin to appear that spur more revelation, hope, conviction and change.  You will have a guideline as well as timeline that you may later wish to return to…memories logged, encouraging words that helped, a history that is not only your own, but displays how God has been with you.  It will be a priceless inspiration to shore up your faith during the storms of life when we often need reminders…

Recognize that where and how you store your rocks is completely up to you.  In fact, you can stack the rocks any way you want.  What and when you choose to write is entirely yours to decide as it will be your journal.  One piece of encouragement that I’ll pass along is to make a note of your thoughts at the time of writing. When I started to journal, I would log the Scripture that I opened to and whatever verses and notes I explored.  While it was interesting to read, later, I would often have no idea why I wrote it down.  Where I had made notes of my thoughts, feelings or the happenings in my life is where I gained the most insight upon returned reflection.  It was nice to know why I felt compelled to write down His words, why they moved me.  The words with no personal application are kind of like the rocks I sometimes still find in piles, all dried out from the sun.  I can pass by them quickly because I am no longer inspired by them as they have lost their luster with no water to make them shine.  Little notes next to your verses will be part of your display that helps the Scripture continue to influence your life not only then but when and if you later return to them.

So remember one of the necessary tools for hunting rocks is a container to display your treasures.  Somewhere you can store them that continues to bring out the beauty that touched and inspired your soul in the first place.

“Arise, cry out in the night, as the watches of the night begin; pour out your heart like water in the presence of the Lord.”  Lamentations 2:19

As I cuddled up with my blanket and Bible by the fire, I realized that it was the first time I had really been thoughtful about my mother-in-law who had passed away just six weeks prior.  We were so very close; I deeply loved her and she very much loved me.  I was truly fortunate for she had no daughters and, as a result, treated and thought of me as one. She, too, was blessed because I genuinely wanted to be that loving daughter for her.

In the quietness of the slowly rising sun that painted the skies with splashes of pinks, soft yellows and blues, my mind flooded with all the happenings since the fateful day when she passed.  The shock, the doctors and the difficulty of sharing the news, the deep throbbing pain, the arrangements, family, funeral, friends, tears, good memories, overwhelming sadness, and then the slow return to what had once been the norm in our life, but now felt so very different.

In the meandering of memories, it occurred to me that I hadn’t had much time to think on or process through the summer happenings.  We had just arrived home from vacation when she fell and broke her femur. Not even unpacked, we juggled around meetings and schedules to visit her at the hospital. Her health clearly declining and her injury gruesome, something in my heart knew–and in hers too–that this event was different.  Though surgery was crucial, her body couldn’t endure it and, in the blink of an eye, she was gone…

We are really quite an amazing creation as evidenced by what your body does when faced with frightening, shocking and life-changing moments.  Feeling the warmth radiating from the fire, I could see, upon reflection, the shock–the state of shock we had all entered at the beginning of this loss.  Much like the breaking of a bone or injuries suffered during a car accident, there’s a purpose in the shock that overcomes the mind and the body.  It protects us from further harm, by slowing down the overwhelming as it comes over and into our system.  Think of it like a protective veil that quickly descends over us during the chaos allowing us to perform what is needed so that we can, hopefully, survive the trauma.  Some describe their lives passing before their eyes; what feels like forever is often just seconds as our system slows down the mind’s ability to grasp.  Much of the time, we do not even know we are in shock…

With death, many, especially those closest to the deceased, will struggle to remember the details of the funeral, who stopped by, or what was said.  Things are often referred to, in those moments, as being “a blur” and, for good reason, as our mind and body focuses on putting one foot in front of the other.  Little details get lost along the way, and truly, as our design already knows, the chemistry in our body moves us towards the new reality long before our minds and souls understand that the process of life going on has already begun.

Sitting by the fire, I opened to the book of Jeremiah, chapter 38.  Scanning the page, my eyes rested upon the story of King Zedekiah talking with Jeremiah, the prophet.  He had summoned Jeremiah from prison to speak with him privately.  He wanted to know if Jeremiah had heard from God about what was going on in the land.  Mind you, Jeremiah had already spoken with him many times and he had refused to listen.  As you can imagine, Jeremiah was hesitant to share the same news again in light of how much the kingdom did not care to hear it, as he was already serving time in prison for sharing God’s message.  But the king gave Jeremiah his word that he would be kept safe, and Jeremiah offered him this:

“If you surely surrender to the king of Babylon’s princes, then your soul shall live; this city shall not be burned with fire, and you and your house shall live.

But if you do not surrender…then this city shall be given into the hands of the Chaldeans; they shall burn it with fire and you shall not escape from their hand.”  Jeremiah 38:17-18 (NKJ)

The word “surrender” seemed to pop out to me and though I knew what the word meant, I have found that looking up a word’s definition often spurs me to think about the word in its fullest potential.  It is almost like a flashlight–with its various meanings, synonyms and antonyms–that shines His words deeper into the shadows of my mind and life revealing things I need to see.

“Surrender” means “to yield to the possession or power of another; to give oneself up to some influence, course, emotion, etc…; to give up, abandon, or relinquish; to yield or resign; to submit.”  www.dictionary.com.  Some of its synonyms are abandonment, cessation, giving way, concede, forego, etc…along with the most challenging and thought provoking: self-denial and sacrifice. Id.  Moreover, the opposite of “surrender” is to fight, fighting, victory, win, conquer, surpass, cherish, defend, keep, pursue, retain, challenge, and assume. Id.

As I pondered those words, I thought about all the pain that I had been feeling inside.  We had visited the lake shortly after all of the funeral events had passed, and I found being there made it easier to avoid my pain, to avoid going deeper into my feelings of grief. Distracted by visitors, chores, and the lure of the lake, my thoughts could dwell in the land of avoidance, only stopping briefly to ponder missing her.  I didn’t have to surrender to the pain; instead, it was easy to fight the tears back or to keep going at a pace that defended against the mounting hurt.

What is intriguing with King Zedekiah was that he was under the influences of two sets of princes.  His own, those within his own kingdom, and those who were in Babylon, those external to his intimate world.  The ones in his own government were insistent that Israel align with Egypt so that they could survive an attack from Babylon.  While this might have sounded reasonable, such an agreement was contrary to God’s longstanding instruction of not entering into alliances when they were afraid.  Why?  Because God wanted them to trust and rely on Him in their times of crisis and need.  This advice from Zedekiah’s very own princes (could those princes represent our fears) encouraged him to place his trust in something other than God and was quite contrary to relying on Him for protection.  Worse yet, Egypt had been a previous captor of Israel.  They had spent 400 years in bondage to them before a prolonged journey to freedom and self-government.

Thinking on this example made me wonder if this might represent how we interact with our fears, our hurts or even our passions?  While we might be able to acknowledge our fears on a basic and superficial level, how often do we go further in supporting or justifying them because we are comfortable with their existence in our lives?   How often do we seek people’s advice about what might be the best solution, but then continue to cling to what we want to believe or want to fear? More so, is it possible that we actually fight for the fears we have, by trying to alter reality to fit their shape rather than surrendering to the reality of the situation and the assurance that we will get through what it is we fear? Convincing ourselves, often through anxiety and worry, that what we are afraid of is bound to happen rather choosing to believe that with, and through, Him we can live well in any situation?

King Zedekiah was so afraid of being turned over to Babylon that he could not see or hear the truth that Jeremiah’s message held.  Surrender was his best option…that it was what God wanted him to do.  He could no longer change the course of what was coming to Israel.  Those days had longed passed.  God, through Jeremiah, was telling him that captivity was at their doorsteps.  He was clearly told that if he surrendered to the princes he feared most, his life would be spared.  Not just his life, but the lives of his family and the health of his city.  There would be no fire, which was normally associated with conquest, and minimal destruction.  Lives would be saved through surrender, not fighting.  But if he didn’t, fighting would cause much devastation for his country and his life.

And because I trust His word, I knew I needed to ponder where in my life could I be allowing myself to battle for my fears rather than accept what was before me?  Where and what was I fighting when maybe I needed to be surrendering…

“Please obey the voice of the Lord which I speak to you.  So it will be well with you and your soul shall live.”  Jeremiah 38:20 (NKJ)

Surrender, and your soul and life will be well.  Hmmm…

Thinking on the definition, a simple example occurred to me.  My family has a strong history of diabetes.  The odds are stacked undeniably in favor that I will some day acquire that condition.  As each year goes by, I get closer to the average age that many of my family members began to experience clear-cut symptoms.  Where I am today is as important as where my tomorrow is, and so what if today, I began to surrender to the idea that diabetes will likely be something I experience in the future.  Think about it this way, with the way that I am designed, diabetes is a very strong risk.  Surrendering to that the idea of that risk might involve taking concrete steps to learn more about it and what I can and will need to do to reduce its impact.  To surrender, I must stop fighting the idea or hoping I will somehow magically avoid it, and begin to understand it.  Rather than pushing it away, I can step towards it.  Instead of fighting its truth, I can begin to exercise with some of surrender’s friends, such as sacrifice and self-denial, which seem to be the backbone of a healthier lifestyle for those who have diabetes.

Through surrender I can learn how to live with it instead of fighting against it until it conquers me.  Had King Zedekiah surrendered to what he feared, what God’s message was conveying, and accepted the hard truth of the benefits to surrender, he would have lived longer and according to God’s word, “well”.  Comparatively, if I stay put in being afraid of diabetes and ignoring the truth that it is likely to impact me through the testimony of the lives of so many of my family members, then I am not doing my physical health any favors.  Fighting this truth through denial, ignorance and stubbornness until I have to face it may lead to the point where change is no longer possible or relevant; just like Zedekiah and his stubborn refusal to listen to the truth in front of him.  When the truth knocked on his door, there was nothing he could do about it to stop its presence.  That opportunity had already passed in the shadows of his denial and fear.  All he could do at that point was surrender to the captivity, and his refusal to do so, brought an unnecessary shortening to his life…

It gets even more interesting when you look at the science behind the body.  Remember, the Scripture mentioned “fire”.  If Zedekiah refused to surrender, then a fire would consume the city, the infrastructure and the people.  Let’s look at the definition of fire.  One of its meanings is “fever or inflammation.” Id. Today science knows that inflammation plays a key role in our bodies.  It is a part or the foundation of many diseases:  diabetes, cancer, heart disease, auto-immune disorders and so on.  www.hopkinsmedicine.org.

To inflame means “to kindle or excite; to arouse to a high degree of passion or feeling…to cause to redden or grow heated…to set aflame, ablaze or afire.”  www.dictionary.com. (emphasis mine).  Inflammation in pathology is “redness, swelling, pain, tenderness, heat and disturbed function of an area of the body, especially as a reaction of tissues to injurious agents.”  Id.  What if the “fire” God refers to in verses 17 and 18 are representative of the undue stress and anxiety we create when we refuse to surrender to what is before us and/or what is the best course of action for our lives?  Is it possible that the inflammation within us causes a fire that leads to our own health decline because we continue to fight rather than surrender to the changes that may need to happen?

And what if this concept of surrender goes beyond dietary changes that might better our physical health?  Could it be that there other situations, emotional and spiritual, where we may need to surrender in order to truly live well?  Jeremiah pleaded with the king to listen to God and to obey so that he would survive what was coming.  But not just barely surviving…rather, by choosing to surrender, his life would result in wellness.   Wellness is defined as “the quality or state of being healthy in body and mind, especially as the result of deliberate effort.” Id.  Looking further into “healthy”, we find that it involves not only good physical health, but soundness, prospering, a strong mind and a vigorous ability to live free of what might ail us. Id.  Sadly, King Zedekiah chose not to embrace the instruction and paid for it dearly with his life and the lives of his countrymen.

As the bonfire flickered before me with the waves continuing to gently crash into the shore, I found myself surrendering to the pain I felt inside.  Instead of pushing it away, I let the emotion and memories wash over me and settle.  No longer fighting it, but resting in its presence, I found the pain leading me to other areas that were burning…still aflame and tender from something that had seared them…causing me to realize that there was more to be surrendered…

Surrender.  To not fight; to stop fighting; to not insist on victory; to let go of conquering, winning, surpassing; to not harbor and cherish; to stop defending; to not keep, pursue or retain; to leave unchallenged or unsupported; to not assume.

A simple word that begged for me, as it begs for you, to take a deeper look at what it really might mean for the wellness of our souls when we choose to follow His instructions…

“Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.  Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”  Matthew 12:28-29 

“And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.  So it was, then Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood in the entrance of the cave.”  1 Kings 19:11-13

One thing I have noticed with being on a lake of a larger size is that the water is often more apt to be calm in the early morning or late evening.  There’s something about the sun being high in the sky that heats up the air currents, which begin to swirl around across the top of the water.  We know such movement as the wind; a wisp of air that we can only feel when it blows against us.  Once I became aware of this pattern, sure enough, after noon on most days, waves would begin to grow and topple onto the shore with more vigor and power that was driven largely by the wind.  By late afternoon and into early evening, as the sun dips down in the sky, the air currents begin to die off and the lake slowly returns to calm, barring a storm or windy weather pattern blowing in.

It is in those calm waters that I have found it is the easiest to hunt for rocks.  The distortion is
minimal because the flow of the water is so gentle and quiet.  The sun is usually low enough in the sky to pleasantly warm you with its rays. The water becomes like a window that you can peer through.  On days when the waves are raging, the picture becomes more like an old TV that is experiencing static-filled waves that persistently visit the screen.  Wave upon wave crashing into the shore line distorting the edge of the water where the rocks lie.  While you can see the show you are watching, the fuzzy lines make it hard to follow along the details of the program.

When very windy days come, the waves not only crash against the shore in a constant beat with their foamy white froth, but they often stir up all the sand.  The water turns from clear to a sandy hue that blocks any stones from being seen.  The cloudy water acts as a barrier to the eye keeping virtually all stones out of sight. On such a day, between the marching waves and muddied waters, there is little hope of finding anything in the shallow edges of the lake.

And so it is with much of life, understanding the current (and when possible, the upcoming) conditions is an important first step before you embark on any journey.  The same can be said about being in God’s word.  It is important to understand the emotional climate of your soul and your life.  Looking at His words when our environment is calm is when we are more apt to see His truths and how they might apply to our lives.  It is in the undisturbed, gentle rhythm where we will find those principles and axioms with more ease and own them with less fight.  In that freedom from the motion of our hectic lives, we are more willing to ponder deeper, perceive more thoroughly, linger longer, and trust more easily.  It’s in the calm moments of life where you can truly train your eyes on how to spot and understand the Scripture that God brings to your attention. In those calm waters with less distraction, debris and obstacles, you will be able to develop and cultivate the best ways for you to search.

There are several Scriptures that encourage us to rise in the morning–in the calm of the day–and engage in prayer and contemplation of His ways.  It is often when life is the quietest; where excitements and disturbances have yet to arise.  “My voice You shall hear in the morning, O Lord; in the morning I will direct it to You, and I will look up.” Psalm 5:3.  And though, for some, mornings might be the calm, really it can be anytime of the day–wherever you find solitude to be present and available.  Maybe it’s lunch.  Maybe it’s on the drive home.  Maybe it’s after dinner or before bed.  “As for me, I will call upon God, and the Lord shall save me. Evening and morning and noon I will pray, and cry aloud, and He shall hear my voice.”  Psalm 55:17.  The key is taking advantage of the still waters of your soul and giving that time to God and His word.  Searching when you are best able to look and find.

As with much of life and skills, what you practice routinely becomes second nature, especially in tough situations.  If your mind and eye becomes well trained to seek and find His words to help guide your ways in the calm, your eye will automatically do so despite your mind racing in a trial or tragedy. The crashing power of the moment, or moments, can make it very hard to see and understand. Things are distorted by the shock, fear or pain making it hard to stand, move forward or rely upon the unseen.  Emotions run high and rationality is constantly trying to reset the balance of what life has left reeling, even though it cannot make sense out of the moment.  It is in that time when you will find that a well-trained eye and mind will bring comfort, wisdom and shelter to your soul.  You will learn how to maneuver in those waves…because of what you have learned to practice in the calm.  Those lessons will carry with you in the eye of the storm…

There is rarely a day on this lake that there isn’t some level of wind. Because of that truth, both the morning and the evening time have become even more valuable in hunting rocks. Life will always have some current flowing through it.  Carving out time to search and understand His words will mean looking for those quiet, less intense times in your day–wherever that might be.  If morning is your best bet, then consider some solitude and time to begin training your eyes and mind to mine the gems of His truth.  If it is evening, do the same. Whenever, wherever, but remember, when the sun rises and the day heats up, you are more likely to be battered by the normal winds of life–loosing focus, strength and desire.  Life, and its often invisible currents, is demanding.  Truly, there’s a reason why contemplation is encouraged in the morning…it is likely when your internal waters are the most calm, refreshed and able.  It is when the winds of life generally have not yet been stirred up to blow.

Don’t wait for a storm to seek Him out, for in the midst of curling and swirling waves that have the power to move things with ease, you will struggle to stand.  Instead, find Him in the still and calm, for it is there you will find His truths much more able to enter your life preparing you for what lies ahead.

“Cast your burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain you; He shall never permit the righteous to be moved.”  Psalm 55:22

I spent the better part of the summer visiting the shoreline of a beautiful lake.

From my favorite spot, I could view the lake and the beach from multiple vantage points.  I could stand from a hilltop and look down…

I could stand on the shore, up close…

I could even float in a kayak along the edge of the water…

And so, one day, I arose before dawn to watch the sunrise.  It seemed like the perfect fit as I read my Bible; something I enjoy doing before the rest of the world awakens.  Since the morning air was chilly, I lit a small fire to keep me warm.  I curled up in an outdoor chair with a cozy little blanket tucked around me as I contemplated the words I was reading. The sun peaked through the clouds as I glanced occasionally at the horizon where it rose.

Below me, I could hear the water lapping against the shore, which drew my gaze downwards to the sandy golden beach below.  Memories flickered in the corner of my mind as the fire danced to generate its heat.  My father would have so loved this spot.  He was a morning person and delighted in the rising or setting of the sun.  And he absolutely enjoyed the water…being in it, near it, or on it as he owned a few boats in his days.  In fact, if you gave him a river bed or a stony beach, you would soon find him hunched over searching for rocks.  While he was thrilled with the many different kinds, he was always hunting for the elusive Petoskey stone and the very hard to find, geode.

I could almost see the smile that would have arisen on his face that morning as he realized that the wind from the evening before had churned up more new rocks to explore. Here, the shoreline changes almost daily from the northeastern winds blowing over the waters.  The waves that crash onto the beach dig out the sand washing it to another place, leaving more new rocks exposed.  Rocks to hunt.  And somehow, hunting rocks has become a favorite past time of mine.  Maybe it is because, in doing so, my dad feels almost near.  When I find a particularly lovely one, it is as if I can see his smile and hear the enthusiasm in his voice as he admires the stone in his hand, all the while encouraging me to keep up the search because…look at what it yields!  What else might there be?

On this particular morning, I could see an abundance of stones from the hill.  Some had been there the day before, but I knew, from watching the shoreline change over time, new ones had likely been uncovered with the night’s wind.  And yet, with that knowledge, from where I sat, I could not discern what had changed.  I was too far away to observe that level of detail.  I knew I needed to draw closer to the shore to really tell, but instead, I patiently turned to back to the pages that were open in my lap.

Those words seemed to speak to the very thing that I had been pondering as I started the fire that morning.  And so, I hunkered down to contemplate just what they might be speaking to in my very life.  I pulled out my trusty dictionary and began to explore the words in depth, all the while, returning often to the verse that seemed to tug at my soul.  I slowed down and let the words soak in, not demanding that it make sense, not rushing forward dismissing what I didn’t understand, but instead waited, thinking on the different dimensions in my life that it might cover.  Sure enough, with some time, I was able to see things in my life that were reflected in those words…much like when a stone has caught my eye from the water’s edge, inviting me to pick it up, to come nearer and take a closer look…maybe even make it my own.

Below me on the shore, the waves wistfully reminded me with their gentle rolling that a new search awaited.  I finally could no longer resist, and down the stairs I descended
kicking off my shoes and quickly rolling up my pants to my knees.  Walking slowly along the water’s edge, I scanned the shore to see if anything of interest stuck out.  As the waves continued cascading onto the beach at a steady pace, I had to slow my search down to minimize the distortion in the water.  And even though I had drawn closer, I was still not close enough.  I entered the water to be able to spot what I was hoping for. Within moments, the brisk water was no longer cool to the touch, and the hunt became a little easier as I could truly see the rocks from the best vantage point. Hunched over the stones, I was able to look straight down at them with a renewed focus from a better angle.  As I stood there, scanning for that special gem, looking for what might be new and what I may have missed the day before, I was struck by the similarity rock hunting holds to what I had just left…

Time and contemplation in God’s Word.  Searching for how His truth might apply to my everyday life…

You see, had I only remained up on the hill, I would not have been in the position to find any new rocks nor be in the position to make them my own.  In the line of work that I do, I find that many are reluctant to open God’s word, to ponder it on their own.  Much like being on a hill, a distance away from the best perspective, a Bible on the shelf of a home is in the same position as the special rock down on the shore.  Even on a desk or book shelf, if never opened and thought on, it is oh, so far away.  Its truths cannot be absorbed; it cannot be made yours if it is never read and contemplated by you.  Those gems of truth lie dormant inside, shut away from bringing light to your eyes and your soul. Their ability to better a life must rest in waiting to be sought.

But, protests one, “I just don’t understand it when I open it.”  Another claims, “But I was not trained in studying it.”  Still another proclaims, “Better you than I, for I have so many more important things that need my tending.”  Some may be reluctant, from experiencing the harsh wrath of someone who has learned His words, but not how, when, or if it is best to use them; those who use Him only for their gain to slay or dominate, leaving pain, wounds and fear in the hearts of others. And some may be afraid they just won’t find Him there, possibly feeling that they are not worthy.

Yet, the beautiful thing about rock-hunting is that it is not restricted to only those who are certified and trained in geology.  All it takes is someone willing to seek them out.  You see, stones lie on the shores, in quarries, on hill sides, in parking lots, and landscaping beds. They are on mountaintops and in valleys low…abiding their time, almost always visible and ready to be seen, waiting for some soul to take notice.  Everyday people have unearthed fossils in their own backyards, and found stones and gems in places that have caused experts to be utterly speechless at their extraordinary finds.

When we first started hunting with my dad, he was ever so patient.  He would move down the river bed so much slower than us, hunched over, taking only a few steps at a time. While I loved hunting rocks with him, I gave up the hunt rather easily if I wasn’t rewarded quickly with a great find.  And yet, even after I floated past him bidding him good-bye, he continued to meander along. Sure enough, as we would meet at the river’s end, he would have a pocket full of amazing rocks to show and share.  Many of which he would later display on his desk at work…

Being in God’s Word is really not so different.

No matter how you enter it, by topic or just be opening it up and seeing where the page falls, it will contain a variety of truths–rocks, stones and pebbles, if you like the analogy–that can make your life better. They come in all shapes and sizes.  Some are identified by patterns, and others just by sparkle. Sometimes, it will be little truths that bring you joy, correction, hope, instruction, or delight.  Another set of words might change your whole mindset or direction on a topic or situation. Still, other times, you will be caught off guard by the magnitude of what you find, and those words may be enough to produce an amazing change within you, rippling out to effect the world that surrounds you.

When my dad passed away, he had little he could pass along other than the lessons of his life–his perseverance, his searches, his love, his steadfastness, and even his mistakes.   Those lessons are like the rocks that he found, treasured and shared.  Illustrations in different shapes, sizes and colors; those of varying magnitudes–ones that you can easily identify and others that require you to dig deeper to appreciate better what is to be gleaned.

And isn’t that true in life?

Our most powerful testimony to others will be our lives and the truths we choose to live.  Imagine what we might be able to uncover when we take His words off the shelf, brush off the dust, and draw near to them.  Before too long and with enough persistence, you may find those words daily beckoning you to come and search them out…

And when searching for rocks, remember they best come to light when bathed in water rather than dried upon the shore where dullness and sand often hides them. Consider His words and ways to be the water, the agent, that can best illuminate the way for your life…making it so much clearer, vibrant and inspiring to others as well as to yourself.

May your hearts and pockets be filled with the life changing truths, abundant inspiration and the joy that a good rock hunt can bring!

“Therefore everyone who hears these words of Mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock.”  Matthew 7:24

“One day as Jesus was standing by the Lake of Gennesaret, with the people crowding Him and listening to the word of God, He saw at the water’s edge two boats, left there by the fisherman, who were washing their nets.  He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little from the shore.  Then He sat down and taught the people from the boat.

When He had finished speaking, He said to Simon, ‘Put out into deep water and let down the nets for a catch.’

Simon answered, ‘Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything.  But because You say so, I will let down the nets.'”

When they had done so, they caught such a large number of fish that their nets began to break.  So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them, and they came and filled both boats so full that they began to sink.”  Luke 5:1-7

This wasn’t the first time Jesus had called Peter to His side.  In fact, He had already met, spoke and dined with him.  It is a wonderful thing that God doesn’t give up on His plans for us…

Simon Peter and his partners had been up all night fishing.  They had pulled their boats back onto shore and were washing out their nets as Jesus began to teach a small crowd of people who had followed Him.  His classroom was the shoreline not too far from where the guys had docked their fishing vessels.  After a long night of pulling in nets only to find them empty, they must have been looking forward to going home to eat and catch some shut eye.

In the midst of His lesson, as they continued to wash their nets, Jesus asked Peter to put his boat back out in water.  Giving this a little more thought, His request had to be a bit surprising to an already tired Peter and his unnamed co-worker.  He was asking them to stop their necessary work to do as He asked.  You can hear the reluctance in Peter’s words, “Master, we’ve worked hard all night and haven’t caught anything.”

Sometimes in life maybe we are just a little off of where we need to be.  Close, but just not quite there yet.  It seems like that was the truth for Peter and the guys.  They were near Jesus, listening when they could, trusting Him enough to ask Him for help when it was urgent like when Peter’s mother-in-law was sick…but not quite as near to Him as they needed to be.  And looking at their current situation, the fish were indeed in close proximity to where they were fishing, but somehow, all night they had caught not one.  Yet, Jesus goes one step further asking them to put out into even deeper water and let down their nets.  To their surprise, following Jesus’ instructions, they had caught more than their nets and boats could hold.  We can see by Peter’s reaction that this lesson humbled him.

“When Simon Peter saw this, he fell at Jesus’ knees and said, ‘Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man!’  For he and all his companions were astonished at the catch of fish they had taken, and so were James and John, the sons of Zebedee, Simon’s partners.” Luke 5:8-9

The bible note attached to this Scripture in the New International Version (NIV) Life Application Study Bible shares that there are two requirements for coming to Jesus: one–we must recognize our own sinfulness just as Peter did, and two–we must realize we cannot save ourselves.  So following Jesus clearly means more than merely acknowledging Him as our Savior and God.  It is not enough to watch Him from the corner of our eyes, nodding our head in agreement with His words, while we go about our lives our own way.

Personally I can relate to Peter’s feelings at that moment in the boat.  Sometimes I am overwhelmed by His provision and His presence that I, too, find myself dropping to my knees afraid, unworthy and deeply humbled by the momentary understanding of Who He is and what He is doing.  Not merely a friend, a teacher, a healer, but God, Who is moving in our lives and asking us to be a willing part of His work in this world of His.

And–maybe at that moment–being that it was the second time that Jesus had called Peter to follow, Peter realized just how sinful he was for doubting Jesus’ first beckoning.  You see Jesus had already met Simon and had even given him the new name of Peter.  He had been to Peter’s house and healed his mother-in-law.  In fact, Peter had watched him heal many others.  It appears he had often seen Jesus stand on the shores of his lake and teach those willing to listen.  Peter probably heard His words and felt His power as Jesus sought to bring the kingdom of God to those near.  And maybe, just maybe, Peter finally could see that returning to his trade of fishing rather than following Jesus was a mistake.  Is it possible that he understood that a half-hearted commitment is really no commitment at all? That listening from the boat while Jesus was on the shore wasn’t the same as being by His side.  Maybe deep in his soul, Peter finally understood that he was slightly off from where he needed to be when he uttered, “‘Go away from me, Lord.  I am a sinful man.’”

The beauty of this all comes into view when we look for Jesus in this picture.  Stepping back on shore, we see that Jesus had remained near, patiently waiting for Peter and the others to become truly committed to Him.  He didn’t give up on them despite their reluctance and hesitation, and He didn’t leave them behind.  Nor did He force them into obedience and demand their allegiance.  He just gently continued to reach out, to care for their loved ones, to teach them lessons they didn’t even know they were learning, and to wait until their faith in Him outgrew their fear of the unknown.

“Don’t be afraid…”

Jesus understands and knows the depth of our fears.  He understands mine; He understands yours.  Oftentimes, better and truer than even we do.  And like Peter, we must come to understand that following fears to supposed “safe” places when Jesus is calling us somewhere else is not following Christ.  In fact, it is the opposite of what He wants and where He is going.

Jesus had a world waiting full of souls to be saved by Him as He patiently waited for Peter and the others…and as He waits for us.  Through Peter, we can learn that the beginning of really following God starts with a distinct awareness and heartfelt confession that sticking to what we know and trust may actually lead us to sin when Jesus is asking us to put it down and follow Him.  When we fail to let go, we are displaying more faith in what we are afraid to release than in Him.  Those fears and justifications may very well be what is holding us back from a journey that draws us and others closer to Him.

Jesus, in turn, wants to remove our fears–the ones that cause us to be devoted to something else and replace them with the special purpose He has for each one of us.  Remember, the ultimate destiny of these simple and ordinary fishermen (much like you and I) was not to catch fish in the sea, but to become fishers of men on the land…

“Then Jesus said to Simon, ‘Don’t be afraid; from now on you will catch men.'”  Luke 5:10

Her big brown eyes filled with tears as she peered over my horse’s neck looking quickly at me and then back at the ground.

“But Aunt Shelley, she was there.  She’s always been there.”  A quiet sob muffled from my horse’s neck as she buried her face in Buffy’s coat.

It was there that I realized it was not just me dealing with grief.  Without any more questions, I knew what my niece was referring to.  And honestly, I had forgotten…for a moment.  Maybe I had wanted to forget.

It was a cold, rainy October day.  The weight of what was coming seemed to hang in the air.  My mom, my siblings, and I waited at my parents’ house by my father’s side as he meandered towards home.  It had been a series of days that were long, hard and painful to watch.  My son and my niece were present by our sides as best as two young children could be; largely because they had to be.  It was where life was at that moment.

As the time drew near, as best as we could tell, we had sent them outside knowing that my dad did not want them to see him in those final moments.  He had always been full of positivity, finding the silver lining and clinging to it.  Of the few things he expressed as he drew near the finish line was how he did not want people to remember him with the cancer or in death, but instead, who he had always been in life.

There was a knock at the door and a shuffle just inside the house as my dad drew one of his last breathes.  It was hospice and we motioned for them to stay in the hallway.  Without fully realizing it, as he took his last breath, both kids were behind the hospice workers in the foyer outside of his room as he passed away. They had just come in from outside. Inside his room, just a few steps from that foyer, we gently and lovingly told my dad it was okay to go.  That we loved him and knew that he loved us.  All the words you say to help someone let go of what is so difficult to say good-bye to.

I don’t remember the exact span of time, but shortly after he was pronounced dead and hospice came in to do what they needed to do, I felt very overwhelmed.  I knew I needed to go outside to catch my breath and my strength.  There in her own confusion and pain stood my niece.  Hugging her, I asked if she would like to go outside with me.  She had mentioned something about my promise that I would get Buffy out to walk and pet as soon as I had a chance.

Looking for anything else to do but face the tsunami wave of pain that was building inside of me, we walked to Buffy’s paddock and I brought her out.  We walked her around the yard while she ate grass.  The sky was gray and the wind was blowing so incredibly hard.  Leaves were falling from the trees as a light mist covered us.  There I stood with my niece, my horse and my broken heart…fittingly, in a barren landscape of a bleak looking autumn day.

I knew I needed to be strong as my father had been an integral part of my nine-year-old niece’s life.  For much of her life, grandpa lived only a mile away and for the last two years, they had all lived together as so many families have had to with the terrible fall out of our economy.  We talked about my horse.  I let her hold and walk Buffy though she was a little scared.  I did my best to keep my grief at bay as I helped her have something else to focus on than grandpa’s passing.

Time came for Buffy to be put back in the barn.  And time returned to the arrival of her dad, my husband and saying good-bye one final time to my dad.  The house filled with loved ones and friends.  Funeral plans, pictures, clothes, debates, meals, and more people that kept us so busy in those moments that followed.

“She was there…” choked out of her sobs.

She quietly shared with me that not only after my dad’s passing, but also before…Buffy had been there.  That was what the kids were doing right before they came into the foyer; they had been visiting with Buffy and had come inside to see if someone would help them get her out to pet.

“I know,” I said with tears in my eyes realizing that my niece was finally processing through the memories of my dad’s passing in this letting go of my horse.  Her mother had told me several times over the last two years that my niece had not yet cried about my dad.

That morning, my sister and I had talked about what was the best thing to do with our kids and the passing of Buffy.  Should we allow them to be present or find a place for them to be?  My niece had been especially vocal about not being allowed to be present in my dad’s last few moments.  We knew we had made the best decision for them all (including honor my father’s wishes) and that it was not one they would necessarily understand–but now, maybe they needed to be present in ways we couldn’t fully understand and needed to trust.

“You had a lot of times with Buffy and grandpa, didn’t you?” I prodded with my words hoping that it would bring her closer to her grief.

Her brown hair bobbed up and down to signal yes as she buried her head more into my horse’s neck.  I reached over and touched her hand noticing that my horse was turning into my niece almost in a way of trying to comfort her.  Not moving her feet, but her craning her neck into this child as she sobbed so tenderly and passionately.

“I think, honey, this is so hard because you feel like you are letting go of grandpa too?”

Her head bobbed some more.  And so I began to share with her what I knew about grief.  How it is good to let these sobs out.  To not hang on to them but to cry as hard as she could.  To go with her feelings and not fight them.  That this needed to come out.

There the three of us stood together…again…as she cried for quite some time.

So much of this world tells that we have to be strong…to stay strong.  And sometimes, there is a place for such moments, but often, we are not served by avoiding the hurt.  It becomes trapped inside and though, we may think we are over it…we are not.  And each time we are faced with letting something go that we love or cherish, the part that we didn’t deal with will try its best to come to the surface to be let out.

Think of it this way–if letting go involves creating a hole for the pain to release through, imagine how much more painful processing becomes when dormant pains try to escape through the hole designed really for just that hurt.  Can you see why processing through pain, hurts and fears is so necessary rather than burying them and having them explode to the surface with the next hard spot in life?  How denial and avoidance only magnify the pain and make it much worse when we are finally faced with letting go?

After time passed and her crying slowed, I shared with her the privilege it is to let something go.  To walk it home to God.  But in that privilege is also pain and a big responsibility…it is one of the hardest things to do.  It is where you must be strong and remain strong.  Not in the sense of holding back tears or emotions, but being steady in the rain of them.

We gave our children the choice of going inside or staying near as Buffy was put down.  My niece was torn.  Part of her wanted to be by her side, but the other part was afraid…of the pain, what she might hear and see, and what she couldn’t control.  She chose not to go inside but to wait by the fire pit in her mother’s arms.  My son also chose to stay with us.

The vet asked me to hand over her lead and insisted that I move far away in case she decided to fight what was happening.  As an attorney, I understood the liability issue but as her friend, I struggled with being that far from her.  My husband comforted me in his arms as I buried my head in his chest crying as they began the process.  Asking him if she was beginning to go, he said yes and I quickly turned around.  And there she was, looking to me as she began to fall.  Discarding the vet’s instructions, I ran to her as she gently fell over into the grass.  A muffled groan escaped from her as she laid down on her side.

It was there that I cradled her head and reassured her as best as I could with my words and my touch.  The tranquilizer had brought her to her knees, but the drug meant to kill her had fallen out before it had fully dispensed into her.  I could see her heart beating in the vein of her neck.  I shooed away my husband, son and brother-in-law as I knew they didn’t need to see the next few moments, but within short order, my niece was at my side.

“Aunt Shelley, the sound was horrible!  I could hear it…” as she began to cry, not realizing that Buffy was not fully gone yet.  I had purposefully shifted my position to hide the movement of the beating of her heart in the veins of her neck as my niece approached; somehow understanding, despite my pain and concern for my horse, that she needed to be a part of this process more than anyone else.

“It was not what you think you heard.  She fell very gently and not violently.  I watched and saw with my own eyes.  It only seemed bad because you couldn’t put a picture with the sound.  Trust me, it was very gentle as big animals are going to make noise as they fall.”

With this, she seemed to calm.  “Is she still here?” she asked through her tears.

To that I struggled to answer.  I knew Buffy was.  I had my hand on her heart and I could feel it racing.  I surely didn’t want to lie to my niece–not in this moment as it held so much for her.

“No matter what, she can hear you.  She needs us to help walk her home and this is the hard part of letting go.  All creatures, including grandpa, can hear and see for a bit.  We don’t know exactly when they depart.  She has taken her last breath, but her heart may still be going and we just need to keep talking to her and telling her it is okay to go.”

And she did.  She petted Buffy’s face as she tearfully talked to her.  We spoke of grandpa waiting and the beauty of where she was headed.  The calming of the wind and the beautiful day we had been blessed with.  How different it was from when we said good-bye to my dad.

As the moments passed, she became aware of the fact that my horse was still alive.  Though it frightened her for a moment, I told her there was only one role we could play at this point as she was dying and would die…that wasn’t going to change.  Our role now was to comfort her.  Despite her fear, pain and grief, she found the strength to calmly reassure Buffy as stroked her face.  I stayed back at Buffy’s side with my hand on her heart and neck as her heart beat finally faded away.

While Buffy played a huge part in my life, she was a strong connection to love, faithfulness and dedication in my niece’s.  She was what drew my dad and her parents out to the barn.  She was the most exciting animal to see.  She was a companion in the backyard while my niece played and swung on her swing. Buffy was always present.  In the good times, and in some of the most painful times…

Letting go of something is almost never easy, especially when it contains a strong connection to something we very much loved.  Sometimes it is not so much the “thing” as what it is they represent…freedom, love, good memories, fun times, or even comfort during something painful or frightening.

While my niece wasn’t letting go of my horse in the same way I was, my horse was one of the last living representations of her grandfather.  And though that grief had always been there for her, letting go of Buffy meant she had to let go of that part of her connection to someone she loved so much.  That portion of his representation was no longer going to be here in its physicality…now it, too, would be only in memory.

It turns out that God knew that she very much needed to see this connection through to its end.  For it is in the hardest part of letting go that we can truly begin to heal…and He and Buffy gave her the opportunity to do just that.

“He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His name’s sake.  Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…”  Psalm 23:4