Author: Amy White

I just spent a few spectacular days with some of my family at a place we all love. The weather was picture-perfect, the food great and fellowship top-notch. Included in the bunch were my sisters and their families, my daughter, her husband and my grandchildren. It is hard to describe how good it felt to be together. I found myself being filled to the brim and tremendously grateful for the depth and breadth of our relationships and history with one another— the celebrations, the victories, successes, failures and the overcoming, surviving kind of stuff. I wouldn’t give any of it up. It’s made me and ‘us’ who we are. I am thankful, but all too aware that those feelings can be so fleeting. It is so easy to slip back into focusing on what is less than perfect in life, the on-going sources of frustration, and the like. Recently I was listening to Dr. Michael Youssef preach on prayer, with a specific focus on King David’s conversations with God. They characteristically demonstrate a posture of adoration and thankfulness. David loved and worshiped God no matter what the circumstances were in his life, and there were numerous challenging and even ugly moments. I was reminded that I sometimes approach God with my laundry list, ending with a quick “amen,” and was convicted. I do believe that God wants to hear the desires of our heart, but if that is all our prayers contain they fall far short of what our Heavenly Father desires from us. Put simply, I don’t want to just be a ‘taker’. I found myself determined to be more intentional to come to God to say thank you, to be grateful, to simply abide with Him. I also want to resist the urge to stay resentful or angry when an injustice, hurt, loss or disappointment occurs, as those patterns are sure to keep me from intimacy with Him. I recently heard of a man struggling with bitterness and anger toward his ex-wife. It was consuming him. He did something that would facilitate an attitude adjustment. He changed the password on his computer to ‘forgive her.’ Every time he logged on he had to type these words. In a month, his negative feelings began to dissipate. He took responsibility to change rather than blame God or his ex-wife, or just as bad, wait for someone else to fix it. His decision on how to handle a painful situation is a great reminder of how our choices, more than anything else, lead to outcomes that will benefit, not hurt us. Gratitude and forgiveness – words worth contemplating.

If you haven’t seen the film Twelve Years a Slave, it’s worth the price of admission. It is an excellent movie but prepare yourself. It is replete with injustice, humiliation, abuse and unadulterated evil. It is based on the life of Solomon Northup, a free man living in Saratoga. He earns his living as a musician but early on in the story is kidnapped, separated from him wife and children and sold into slavery. We watch as he tirelessly perseveres. He is blessed to have an indomitable spirit and demonstrates a tremendous depth of character and determination to find his way home. Solomon bears up under years of mistreatment, being the undeserved object of another’s wrath, humiliation, and deplorable living conditions. The movie brings us face-to-face with the consequences of ignorance, selfishness, and the depths to which human depravity can reach, not unlike other historical events in which similar atrocities were committed against men, women and children. We can’t help but then anxiously consider the conditions of our modern age, admitting there are places we would not go today where the same vulnerability and evil lurks in the streets and byways. It is depressing to ponder the behavior of mankind, past and present. If we were to stay there, we would surely fall into despair. Fortunately, the movie helps us to somewhat recover. Solomon finally meets an advocate named Bass who brings hope. Bass represents the other side of humanity. He recognizes not only that the behaviors inflicted by those involved in slavery are destructive, but that they are rooted in ignorance, discrimination, detachment, devaluation of humanity, selfishness, and the love of money. Bass makes a courageous decision in the midst of justifiable fear and at tremendous risk, he does the right thing. Bass is the redeemer in the film and Solomon ultimately reaps the benefit of his actions. Even so, the film is unsettling and I am glad. I so value the opportunity to be reminded that it is most often not a giant leap, but rather a series of small steps on a slippery slope that makes us ‘one of them.’ When we start labeling, detaching, elevating, and marginalizing, we’re in trouble. May God help us to see others through His eyes. It is only then that we will all be more like Bass, ultimately reflecting the love of Christ to a world that is so desperately in need of a redeemer.

My sister recently gave me a copy of a letter that our father wrote to one of our nephews, his grandson, in 1980.  One portion revealed much to me about daddy the person:

“I was very sorry to know you have had some problems.  I am well aware of the traumatic experiences you have had in developing years, and it is not always easy to rationalize.  I have shared some of these tragedies with you and I know there is no logical explanation.  I have found a great solace in treating these things as a test of faith and character.  I truly believe this short period on earth is just an episode, and that all things will be made new again.  I know you have the inherent qualities to put the past in limbo and constantly aspire to the many opportunities which come with each succeeding day.” 

Daddy’s words were endearing to me.  I couldn’t help but smile when I read them.  I could envision him sitting at his desk, glasses halfway down his nose and pipe with cherry tobacco sitting close by.  I appreciated how articulate the letter was, as well as caring, compassionate and encouraging.  Most of all I loved having a small glimpse into his faith.  (Daddy was not of the generation that spoke much about things that was personal to him).  He would pass away 18-months later.

Here I am, less than ten years younger than he was when he died.  I, too, now see our ‘short’ time here as an ‘episode.’  I don’t feel anxious about it, though.  I feel excited when I think of seeing him again.  I know the brevity of this life will then be apparent juxtaposed to the eternity we will then share together.  Daddy was not wealthy but he left us a legacy far more valuable than any material possessions he could have passed on.   “For you have been my hope, Sovereign Lord, my confidence since my youth.”  Psalm 71:5

Daily challenges interrupt our lives; some forgotten before we hit the pillow, while others are more daunting and continue to plague us in the days ahead.  We are told that it really does matter how we handle these circumstances.  Research confirms that optimistic folks fare better than those that our downcast.  So, if the assignment is to be a ‘glass half full’ person, where do we begin?  Perhaps it has to do with having hope.

I recently heard a wonderful message from Pastor Fred Goodwin, Church of the Messiah in Canton, GA.  He reminded all of us that true hope extends beyond the good wishes we extend to one another:

“I hope you have a good day.”

“I hope you feel better.”

“I hope you get the job.”

“I hope it’s nice out tomorrow.”

We certainly mean these words when we offer them and appreciate the support of others when we hear them.  Yet, when we are going through tough times, if our ‘hope’ does not have deeper roots, we are unlikely to sustain a positive attitude.  Consider the following verse:

“. . . Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.  Through him we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in our hope of sharing the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit which has been given to us. (Romans 5:1-5, RSV).

Because of our faith in Christ, we have access to the throne of grace and the promise of sharing in His glory.  The love of God fills us through His Holy Spirit.  How often do we think on this level when we are going through trials?  I know I don’t.  Or, how much do we remember that suffering should be seen as a blessing because it is what begins to lay the foundation for being people of hope?

Notice the sequence in the verse above:  suffering, perseverance, character, hope.  Hope that can carry us through is not easily acquired.  We have to work for it.  We have to wait for it.  It is a culmination, an end result if you will, of a commitment to overcoming suffering and allowing God to build our character through our trials and tribulations. That’s a tough assignment.  Suffering hurts, perseverance is hard.  Having our character molded and refined can be brutal.  If we can remember that while God may not be the author of our suffering, His passion is to love us through it and use it for our good.  If these truths lay our foundation, our hope can never disappoint.  As the old hymn states, it is then that I can be confident that ‘my anchor holds.’

One of our favorite things to do when we travel is to tour historic homes.  It is especially enjoyable when a guide shares the history of the residents and all the details of life in that era.  On more than one occasion we have seen framed pictures made out of the hair of a family member who passed away.  I have found myself responding with curiosity but thinking it was kind of creepy.  I was going through a box the other day and found an envelope with a 4-inch braid of one of my daughter’s hair when she was six-years old.  It was so blonde and soft to touch.  My mind was flooded with memories and my heart was warmed by the feelings of her at that age.  I had a new appreciation for this type of memento and was excited to show it to her.  I was totally surprised by her response, “Mom, that’s creepy.”  I smiled.  Her feelings were similar to mine when I saw them in the old homes.  She didn’t even want to touch it!  Well, I was going to leave it with her to share with her daughter someday but I was too afraid she’d throw it away!  So, it’s back in the box.  No matter how you feel about keeping hair, I was again reminded of the importance of keepsakes, scrapbooks, pictures, etc.  Things that remind us of our history and those we love are important so that our hearts and minds are stirred to remember the ‘whole’ of our lives.  If we could only take two or three things to keep from our home, I bet these are the kinds of things we’d keep.  A reminder once again to cherish what matters most.

Recently my daughter affectionately said to Ryan, my grandson, “I love you to pieces!”  Ryan looked at her somewhat perplexed and responded, “Don’t you love me whole?”  Children are so literal and it was cute.  His comment reminded me that all of us can err on the side of breaking the ‘whole’ into parts.  There are those experiences we are proud of and share others.  They say something positive about who we are. Then there are the secrets that are kept tightly locked behind a closed door because we fear criticism, ridicule, disapproval or even rejection should they be known.  It’s not that we are to be open with everyone (honesty and openness are two different things), but real healing occurs when we know that if we had to tell someone about an experience we are not so proud of, we could.  That is because we have dealt with it—turned away from the sin that so easily entangles us, asked for forgiveness where needed, forgiven ourselves, and confessed it and received God’s forgiveness.  We come to terms with the difference between ‘I did something wrong’ versus ‘I am wrong’.  We realize if someone tries to pin a label on us, it’s about them and not us.   I was watching an interview with one of the women who was a long-term hostage and victim of Cleveland’s Ariel Castro.  My heart went out to her.  I imagined what I would feel if I were in her place. I know I would have a lot of wrestling to do to work through all the atrocities she suffered, let alone share it with others.  Yet, her painful experiences are a real part of her life’s story.  I found myself hoping and praying she will invest in herself and this terrible chapter will, ultimately, be a contributing factor toward making her into the woman God has called her to be.  Insults, injustice, trauma and even victimization happen to all of us along the way in some form or another, but God’s promise is to ultimately give us victory and use what Satan meant for evil for our good and the furtherance of His kingdom. I’m grateful, like David, we can go to him even if in complete brokenness, and He will always receive and comfort us.   I’m also thankful that God loves us ‘whole’, warts and all, and not just our good parts.  That’s a good thing to remember when we put our head on the pillow at night and what stands out about the day isn’t something that makes us feel all that great about ourselves.

I was wishing today that there was an easy way to turn off the “I’m stressed” button.  I so desire to be at peace and wait upon the Lord but find myself anxious when I don’t know the plan or have the answers I need, or struggle over the right decision or outcomes of choices I’ve made.  I think of Joshua being told to be bold, fear not, and to go into the Promised Land, trusting in his God who had proven over and over again he is deserving of that trust.  I rationalize that it was different because Joshua and Moses had a direct word from God.  If I heard God’s audible voice, I could be like Joshua too.  I forget that I have the infallible Word of God, the evidence of history, God’s hand at work in my life over and over again, and the Holy Spirit within me.  I am surrounded by believers who provide wise council and love me.   I remind myself that God has brought me through mountain top and valley experiences and his desire for me is to prosper.  I also reflect on the life of Joshua and his assignment was much more dramatic than mine!  Right before Joshua died, Joshua didn’t instruct the people to wait until they heard a voice but rather to be bold and faithful and God would be with them.  Once again I’m driven back to taking my eyes off of myself and onto the one who promises to never let me go and to complete the good work he started in me.  Well, that helps for now.  We’ll see how I’m doing in five minutes.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.”  Philippians 4:6

A friend recently shared with me about an encounter she had with a teenage girl.  Just as she was about to go into the Sanctuary for the Sunday morning worship, this young girl pulled her aside and broke down in tears.  She confessed that she had made some bad choices in her personal life and was feeling terrible about herself and unworthy of God’s love.  My friend comforted and supported her.  She also tried desperately to persuade her that everyone in the worship service was just as flawed and broken as she was.  I can’t tell you the joy I felt knowing that a vulnerable, tender spirit was having face-to-face meeting with grace.  My guess is that years from now a grown woman will look back at perhaps this life-altering exchange and remember it with gratitude.  Having experience and met so many folks who, when facing failure, were met with criticism, guilt and condemnation, I’m thrilled that instead of moving forward in shame and brokenness, this girl is more likely to learn and heal from her mistakes.  That, I believe, is the church at its finest.

Time seems so strange.  It passes while we’re living through it and although some days are longer than others, it all morphs together into a decade with a summary page at the end.  I strive to keep the ‘big picture’ in mind, but admit the worries of the day or the excitement of the moment get much more than their due.  I sometimes wonder what it will be like when I cross over to my eternal home and look back over it all.  I suppose I’ll smile at the trivial things that captured my attention and consumed my energy. I know I will be grateful that I made it through all the bumps in the road, the battlefront experiences, and the common and uncommon challenges that came my way. When I see the multitudes of angels that intervened on my behalf, I am certain I will shudder to see the grief and hardship I was spared.  I hope that I will feel at least somewhat satisfied with my efforts to become more like Christ and to fulfill His purpose for my life.  But there is more.  What brings me to the brink of tears and stirs my heart, is visualizing the faces of those whom I have loved that will be waiting for me.  What a gift.  To know there will be a grand reunion and the troubles of this life will no longer interrupt and that I will be in the presence of the One who made me, loves me, and cannot wait to see me, is almost more than I can take in.  Don’t misinterpret, I want to live fully the number of days God has assigned to me.  I desire to love and contribute to the special people He has brought my way; but the older I get, the more I can embrace the words of Paul, “To live is Christ, to die is gain.”  It’s all good!

I woke up this morning realizing that I stood on the precipice of grumpy.  I was thinking about things that were less than perfect in my life and wondering why God hadn’t done something about them yet.  I was also keenly aware that I had a day off work without deadlines, responsibilities, or people with complaints or needs.  “So,” I said to myself, “What’s it going to be?”  I knew I had a choice – to focus on the positives or to allow discontentment to color my day.  Then Bill and I went for a bike ride, swam in the pool, and I’m sitting outside on a beautiful 4^th of July thoroughly enjoying the luxury of contemplation.  I’m reminded of an incident that recently occurred.  Last week I had a minor procedure done that required anesthetic.  I had a wonderful anesthesiologist and right before I went under she asked me if I had a happy place to think about.  I told her I had so many happy places and I wasn’t being dramatic or exaggerating.  I wish I could always remember to be grateful and keep my perspective straight.  I’m frustrated that I allow what isn’t to get more attention than what is.  I guess we’re all a work in progress, though.  (By the way, by the time I finished my cherry yogurt the grumpies were totally defeated).