Two Scraped Fingers

In an old Christmas song from the 1940s, a child sings, “All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth.” I’m suggesting a new version of that song this year for our family: “What I got for Christmas is two scraped fingers.” In fact, the two scraped fingers that we got this week as an early Christmas gift on Monday will probably be my favorite gift of all. Let me explain . . .


Monday morning, Katie was driving to her job at the Cornerstone University library and stopped for a yellow light at East Beltline and Lake (for those of you who are local). Unfortunately, the construction-company truck with a trailer that was behind her didn’t stop for the yellow light, and hit the back of her car (which is actually my car), spun her, and hit the driver’s side door, denting it so badly that she couldn’t open it to get out of the car. The back of the car was smashed in, the back window was shattered, the driver’s side was dented, and both the driver’s side windows were shattered. Katie walked away from the whole thing with two scraped fingers that didn’t even require bandages. And in the meantime, until Henry could get there, there were several people who showed great kindness to her, especially a woman who stayed at the scene, let Katie sit in her car, and called her boss for her to let him know what happened and why Katie wasn’t there.

In our family, December has historically been an eventful month. We have many birthdays, including my dad’s, my sister’s, my niece’s, and Henry’s—and those are just a few; there are more on both my and Henry’s side . It has also been a month of some devastating events: the car accident that ultimately took my sister’s life; my first husband’s leukemia diagnosis; the diagnosis about a year later that he had relapsed after his bone marrow transplant and the prognosis that he would die in about ten weeks.

But now I will also remember December as the month when my red-headed girl got into a terrible accident and walked away with two scraped fingers. And I will thank God that He gave us this gift of the protection of Katie’s life. I don’t think there’s much else I could want for Christmas this year.

*The photo is Katie and Jonathan, probably about 1994, my treasures of Christmas past.

What If Christmas Means a Little Bit More?

With tumult all around us--the silliness that is "climate change," a failing economy, a culture that seems to have lost any semblance of principle or moral grounding, politicians whose only concern is forcing their own agenda on the people who would rather not have it--one of my favorite DHP authors offers some good news in this excerpt from a Resources for Your Ministry blog post that will be published on Christmas day:

"Human love has reasons to love—wealth, beauty, intelligence, or other attributes that make love’s object loveable and desirable. Divine love is not based on merit or deservedness. God loves you, not because you are yourself but because He is Himself: 'God is love' (1 John 4:8, 16). Philosopher Peter Kreeft argues that God’s love cannot answer the question, 'Why do I love thee?' He can only say, 'How do I love thee? Let me count the ways . . .'"

~David Roper

When They're Down Part 3

As promised, I'm going to close out this series by talking about something that is admittedly negative, but necessary. There are ways that we can respond (or not respond) to someone who is need that can add insult to injury. Those who have endured hardship know that for every kindness sent their way, there often is an unhappy story of insensitivity because of the way someone has responded to their pain. Just as there are as many ways to be a blessing as there are difficult situations, there are probably as many ways to cause pain on top of pain. Those that I mention here come from my own experience or from the experiences of people I know. While most people don't want to "kick someone when he or she is down," sometimes we do just that out of a lack of understanding.

1. Don't think that you must comfort someone by coming up with some clever new thought or some inspirational words that will cheer that person up. Often, there are just no words. And our feeble attempts to cheer someone often result in the opposite effect. If you find yourself talking with someone who is suffering and you sense yourself starting a sentence with, "At least . . ." you might just want to stop there. For example, we might be tempted to tell someone who has just lost a job, "At least you have your health." It may be true, and that person should be thankful for good health, but that probably isn't the best time to mention it. I've heard of situations where a parent has lost a child, and someone may say, "At least you have two other healthy children." As much as we'd like it to, gain doesn't compensate for loss. Having those two healthy children doesn't take away the pain of the lost one. Rather than trying to find that "right thing" to say, we would do well to offer help (see my last post), give a hug, and tell that person we love him or her and are praying for the situation.

2. We shouldn't set a time clock for someone else's grief. Often those who have never experienced a tremendous loss become impatient with another's grief. We really don't have any right to tell someone else how long they may grieve a loss. There is grief that is both healthy and unhealthy, and when we see a grieving person shutting him or herself off from the world, unable to hold down a job, and generally unable to cope, we should be concerned and see about getting that person some help. But grief is a part of loss, and there is no one timetable on grief. I realized earlier this month that my sister who died in 1990 would have been forty this year. And at the same time, I realized that this January will mark twenty years since her death. Twenty years later and I still miss her very much. And there are times when I still cry for the pain of losing her. My mom recently talked about a former co-worker who gave her a very difficult time after my sister died. Our family spent a lot of time on the phone with each other after Kristi died, just being there for each other. And our pain didn't necessarily wait until work hours were over. Apparently I had called my mom at work one afternoon, struggling over my loss. The whole time my mom and I were talking on the phone, this co-worker kept walking past my mom's office. After the call was over, she nastily informed my mom that she shouldn't be spending all that time on the phone. She thought she knew just how long our family should grieve our loss and wanted to assign the times when we could express grief. This same person later suffered a miscarriage and, having suffered a significant loss, apologized to my mom for the way she treated her. We need to be patient and compassionate with those who are suffering and not impose our own ideas about how long they're allowed to grieve.

3. We shouldn't abandon those who are suffering. This is, perhaps, the most difficult thing my children and I have faced. It's hard to imagine that close family members would actually abandon those who are hurting, but I'm here to tell you from personal experience that it happens. There are some close family members who basically have cut themselves off from us. One excuse I've heard is that when one family member is in contact with us, it reminds him of his own pain at losing Jon (my children's dad and my first husband). We've also heard through the family grapevine that others have abandoned us because they haven't heard that we've been experiencing anything particularly difficult, and "no news is good news."  Those same family members ignored Katie's high school graduation and couldn't be bothered to even send her a card to congratulate her. So I guess that means that "good news is no news" as well. This selfish abandonment has been a great source of pain for both Katie and me especially. We feel like we have been punished because Jon died. These same people, had they been able to look beyond their own selfishness and superficiality, could have been a great help and encouragement to the children and me in those difficult financial, emotional, and spiritual times. Instead, they increased our pain with their callousness. And they've missed out on knowing what great people Katie and Jonathan are. I know that my parents also have family members who abandoned them after my sister died, and I've heard of others who have experienced this as well. Jesus had something to say about this kind of behavior in the parable of the Good Samaritan. As difficult as it can be to "be there" for someone who is suffering, we need to remember that Christ did not abandon us. How much more, then, should we continue to stand by those around us who are in pain?

Being able to minister to someone who is going through a difficult time is a calling, a privilege, and a great blessing. It is a thrill to think that God might use us to be a help to one of His children who is in need. There will always be those around us who need help because Jesus reminded us that in this world there would be trials, and we need to be prepared to support those who are down rather than "kicking them."

When They're Down Part 2

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post about our duty to reach out to others when they're going through a time of pain. We tend to think in terms of whether we should help someone or not when, in fact, it really isn't an option for us as believers. In 2 Corinthians 1:4, Paul tells us that God comforts us in all of our troubles so that in turn we can comfort others who are in trouble. Sometimes we persuade ourselves that our help isn't necessary--maybe the sufferer has a supportive family or maybe we assume that there really isn't anything that we can do, and there are probably others who will pick up the slack.

But if we were all soldiers fighting a literal war and one of our comrades was injured, we wouldn't stop to say, "Do you need help?" If we were passing by and saw someone bleeding, we (hopefully) wouldn't keep on going because we figured the next person who came by would take care of the situation. We need to feel that same sense of obligation for those going through life's injuries.

Do you know anyone experiencing the following:

Death of spouse

Death of close family member

Divorce

Marital separation

Jail term of close family member

Personal injury or illness

Loss of job due to termination

Change in financial state

If you do, then you know someone who needs help. These circumstances are among the most stressful life events that a person can experience. So the question isn't whether people in one of these situations needs help--they do; rather, the question is what position are you in to offer assistance. What can you do?

Assistance is as individual as the need. We need to be creative about helping others. Put yourself in their position, as best you can, and think about what you might need in that situation. Ask that person how he or she is doing and really listen. As you pay attention, you may get an idea of how you can help. Above all, don't just say, "Let me know if you need help." Simply saying that doesn't mean you've now done your duty. People who need help don't know what you are willing and able to do. And sometimes they're too emotionally weak to even ask for help or know what they need until you suggest it. Open-ended offers are no offers at all.

Here are some of the creative ways that people are helping others:

~Henry and I were recently visiting with an elderly couple. The husband is terminally ill and is so weak he is barely able to talk any more. The wife was telling us that a young couple--fairly new to our church--was asking them  if they could be of help in any way. The incident occurred earlier this fall, so the younger man asked if he and his wife could come rake their leaves. And with gratitude, the older couple accepted their offer. I love how the younger man made his offer real by stating something specific.

~A family in our church has had a very difficult year. The problems of job loss were compounded when our friend fell and shattered his elbow. The family heats their house with a wood furnace, and winter is upon us. On two Saturdays, members of the youth group and their leader cut wood, and this past Saturday a group of men got them well stocked so that they will be able to get through most of the winter now.

~A friend with a large family has had to take on a part-time job to make ends meet while her husband is out of work.  One day another woman from our church just showed up at her door with lasagna and bread for the family's dinner. Note--she just took action and didn't even ask my friend if she needed help or would like a meal.

 ~After my first husband died, I was single parenting two small children. Our pastor and his wife set aside an afternoon a week to take care of my kids so that I could run errands, get groceries--do things I needed to do child-free.

 ~Before I was married to Henry and while the kids and I were at our previous church, a deacon called me to see if we had any needs. I explained that we really had no financial needs at that point but that I would appreciate it if the deacons could find a young man who would like to be a "big brother" to Jonathan--do "guy" things with him. I would be happy to pay Jonathan's way if someone would spend time with him. And the deacons sent us Tom, who did just that for several years until he got married, had children, and became a deacon himself.

 There are other ways we can help:

For those in financial need--gift cards to grocery stores, for gas, cash gifts. As one who has been both the recipient and the giver of these kinds of gifts, I prefer anonymity. It can be awkward to receive the charity of another, and, as a giver, I'd like to think the receiver is thanking God for what I've given rather than me.

For those who have just lost spouses, especially the elderly--invite them to your house for a meal. It can be so very lonely; companionship may be the best thing you can offer. And don't feel that it's necessary to serve an elaborate meal or offer riveting entertainment. That lonely person will be happy just to be able to eat with other people and have someone to talk to. For widows--does she need help with home maintenance, car maintenance, financial concerns?

Can you help a single parent or a family struggling with illness by offering child care?

If you know of someone who is out of work, watch for openings at your company and let him or her know if a job is available. Do you have any home maintenance projects that you could hire an unemployed person to do?

The possibilities are as numerous and various as the problems that people have. I know I will never forget some of the kindnesses that have been shown to me and Katie and Jonathan during the difficult times. While we may not be able to solve others' problems, we can and must do something to help carry the burden. We mustn't kick people when they're down with our own indifference. And that leads us to my next post where I will describe some of the ways we actually hurt people who are down by our attitudes and actions.

But before that, if you have any creative suggestions for how we can help one another or special ways someone has helped you, please put them in the comments.

Top Ten Things to Be Thankful For

I like Thanksgiving. Some of my fondest childhood memories are associated with Thanksgiving at my grandma's house. I would often go to Grandma's house early, and she'd let me help her set the table with the special dishes we would use only on Thanksgiving, along with her decorative salt and pepper shakers. We'd gather with family, eat the special foods my grandma prepared, eat in the formal dining room (a rare thing), and then spend time playing games.

I don't often like to think about being a grandma because that would suggest getting even older--and neither of my children is quite ready yet for parenting. But I hope that someday, some little one will come early to Grandma's house, help to set the table with the pretty dishes, eat the special food that she makes, and play games after the dishes are all done.

And how does that tie in with my Thanksgiving top ten? Like this:

1. I'm thankful for wonderful childhood memories of Thanksgiving at my grandma's house.

2. I'm thankful that I still have my grandma's pretty dishes, and I'm thankful that this year we'll be using them for our wonderful meal. And I'm thankful in advance that everyone is going to be incredibly careful while they use Grandma Walborn's special dishes and not a one will be broken.

3.  I'm thankful to have a job.

4. I'm thankful for my family.

5. I'm thankful that my parents gave me piano lessons.

6. I'm thankful for my church and my pastor.

7. I'm thankful that our dining area faces east, so that in the morning, when we eat breakfast, we can watch the sun rise.

8. I'm thankful that we live in a neighborhood with sidewalks so that we can go on nice walks sometimes.

9. I'm thankful that I found some friends who wanted to have a book group. And I'm thankful for all of our get-togethers and all the great conversations we have.

10. I'm thankful that I have everything I need.

May you be blessed with many things to be thankful for--and with knowing the One to whom we give thanks.

Kicking People When They're Down, or Going Rogue on Someone's Pain

My friend and I have been throwing around the idea of writing a book about what not to say or do to people who are going through a time of crisis in their lives. While thankfully my life is relatively pain-free right now, I spent a lot of time in the nineties grieving the illnesses and deaths of my twenty-year-old sister and my thirty-five-year-old husband, so I know a little about pain and suffering. My friend has been having an extremely difficult year (an understatement) and is (unfortunately) an expert in suffering as well. I have to credit her with the subtitle for this post.

As old as history itself is the reality that we aren't always very good comforters in the body of Christ. Job's friends set a bad precedent, and we often follow their poor example--if we make any attempt at all to provide relief and comfort. Sometimes we hold back because we don't know what to say, so we don't do or say anything at all. Other times we spew cliches like "at least you have your health," "God is working this for good," or "God won't give you more than you can bear," thinking that we can somehow neutralize the bitter pill of God's providence with a syrupy sweet sentiment.

If we Christians are soldiers in a battle, why do we tend to shoot our wounded by spraying them with Hallmark-sentiment BBs? If we were in a literal battle and our comrade was gushing blood, we wouldn't try to help him by giving him jelly beans. And we would never commit the worst offense imaginable but one that happens often: abandonment. We add insult to injury, delaying recovery for the sufferer.

It is difficult to know what to say when someone tells us about a crisis he or she is experiencing. What we'd like to do for our friends or loved ones is take away the problem, but that's usually impossible. The best we can hope to accomplish is to provide some relief, but that's an important accomplishment--one that is our duty toward our brothers and sisters.

So what can we say? Unless someone comes to me asking for advice, wanting to talk through a situation, I restrict myself to the following, depending on the circumstances:

*I/We love you.
*I'm/We're praying for you (if I really am).
*Can I help you by? . . .

That last one is the key, I think. James tells us to show our faith by our works, and so if we truly see someone with a need, we'll do something about it. And because so many people are going through difficult times right now, I mean to share in future posts suggestions about what I've learned from my own experiences about what helps and what hurts.

I was thinking a few days ago about the things we say to people, and one of the favorite verses to quote is Romans 8:28, truly a beautiful promise that God will work all things for good for those He loves. I used to dread hearing this verse, even though I knew it was true. Those of us in the body of Christ are one, and we tend to forget (because we're not directly affected) that that person's job loss, the death of that person's spouse, her cancer diagnosis, their rebellious child--all of these are our sorrows too.

Is it possible that God is not just using that pain for the good of the one most directly affected but for my good as well? How can something that isn't happening directly to me work for my good? The Holy Spirit's work is often a mystery to us, but what I do know is that another's pain gives me the opportunity to show love, compassion, to be hospitable, to be a servant, to offer tangible gifts--all working for my good as I'm conformed to the image of Christ.

 We need to work on being better comforters.

Jonathan at Sixteen

On November 3, Jonathan turned sixteen. The last year and a half has been a time of great growth for Jonathan--physically, but emotionally and spiritually as well. Those who know and talk with him quickly learn that one subject that he is most passionate about is politics. In fact, at a recent parent-teacher conference, Jonathan's history teacher told me he sees him with a PhD in history or political science someday.

This year, Jonathan decided to put his interests to work (and he was also told by his parents that he was required to take up an extracurricular project) and has become the political analyst for his school newspaper. He's kind of a mix of Alex from Family Ties, Rush Limbaugh, and Sean Hannity. I'm working on introducing him to the writing flair of Peggy Noonan, but for now, he has a style all his own.

Since it was his birthday, Jonathan has agreed to be my birthday guest blogger. Here is his own recent article, reprinted from the West Michigan Lutheran Mustang News, entitled "You Lie!" (By the way, Jonathan was born on election day 1993; we're wondering if that might have something to do with his interest in politics now.)

You Lie!
by Jonathan Selden
Mustang News Analysis

As many of you remember, during a speech given by President Obama to a joint session of Congress, Representative Joe Wilson (from South Carolina) made his opinion of the president's policies outlined in the speech clear to everyone in the room. When President Obama was trying to put down several claims conservatives have made about the reform bill, he aptly brought up the situation of illegal immigration and reform. The president boldly stated that it was not true that illegal immigrants would be eligible for health care. Joe Wilson shouted out, "You lie," spurring some boos and a glare from the president.

Was this behavior acceptable? No, it was not. Was it deserving of punishment? It probably was. The Democrats pressured Joe Wilson to apologize for what he did. The South Carolina representative willingly did so. The House of Representatives then voted on a gesture of disapproval of Joe Wilson's reactions.

What was the truth value of Joe Wilson's statements? What was the truth value of President Obama? In reality, both sides were truthful, and both sides were wrong. The president's remarks were, in a sense, truthful in saying that the current bill does not allow illegal aliens to participate in the government-run program . . . Therefore, Joe Wilson was wrong to say the president lied.

However, . . . the language [in the bill] doesn't exactly forbid aliens from partaking in the plan.; illegal aliens just can't get federal help to participate.Congress struck down a measure proposed by Republicans that would require proof of citizenship to be able to have access to the government-run plan . . . Suddenly, . . . Joe Wilson's comment doesn't seem so bitterly partisan . . . It is correct in a sense that the statements made by President Obama were misleading . . .

When we all come of the age to be eligible to vote, it is important to question the honesty of each candidate. Even if there is no election, keeping the government honest is something that should be the responsibility of the governed, or risk letting the government for and by the people become a government for and by the governors.

A Hymn to God the Father

Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun,
Which was my sin, though it were done before?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin through which I run,
And do run still, though still I do deplore?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done;
For I have more.

Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I have won
Others to sin, and made my sins their door?
Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I did shun
A year or two, but wallow’d in a score?
When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done;
For I have more.

I have a sin of fear, that when I’ve spun
My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;
But swear by Thyself that at my death Thy Son
Shall shine as He shines now and heretofore:
And having done that, Thou hast done;
I fear no more.

~John Donne (1573–1631)

Words Mean Something

This weekend, many churches around the world will celebrate Reformation Day,a commemoration of Luther's nailing the 95 Theses to the church door at Wittenberg in 1517, the event that launched the great Reformation of the church. It is not overstatement to say that Western culture is what it is, in many ways, because of the Reformation. If you are Protestant, if you have the Bible in your own language, if you are middle class and educated, if you live in the assurance that you glorify God in your work, whether you're a pastor or a banker or a realtor or a mom--and these are just a few things--then you have experienced some of the blessings of the Reformation.

Perhaps one of the simplest truths that Reformers like Luther and Calvin recovered is that words--God's words to us in Scripture--mean something. He has communicated with us in meaningful ways so that we can come to an understanding (not complete, of course) of him and the salvation he has provided. As a Roman Catholic monk, Luther wrestled with the church's teaching that salvation was to be earned by man's good works. He realized that even though he would perform good works, he would still sin, and he could never feel assured that he was righteous, that he would be saved.

And then he began to study the book of Romans, where the apostle Paul tells us that in the gospel a righteousness from God is revealed, and the righteous live by faith. Simple and profound at the same time, these words, "by faith," meant something--something very different from what he had been taught. He also learned from Romans that no one was righteous, and that eternal life was a gift--not something that he could earn. Anyone who has had to work to get a paycheck knows the difference between a gift and something earned, two very different things.

Luther began to see that God's words were different from the words that he had been taught. God said salvation is by faith in Christ's work; the church taught that salvation was by good works. God said salvation was his gift; the church taught that salvation was something that men had to earn.

As Calvin pointed out, it has to be one or the other: "Faith righteousness so differs from works righteousness that when one is established the other has to be overthrown." Because words--and the concepts they represent--mean something, they cannot co-exist. Both the church and the Reformers understood that.

Martyr Anne Askew understood that. At age 25, Anne, living in England during Henry VIII's reign, denied the Roman Catholic teaching regarding the Lord's Supper. The true words of Scripture meant so much to her that she refused to recant when she was tortured on the rack. And when she was carried (because she could no longer walk after being tortured)to the stake to be burned to death, she still refused to recant and died.

And so today, when we say that we believe something, our words have meaning, and that meaning is either consistent with God's words, in line with his truth, or it is not. In this century, with its emphasis on unity, finding common ground, and tolerance, we like to blur the lines and minimize the difference between God's words and the words we and others like to use. Sometimes we'd like to believe that words really don't mean what they mean. Works righteousness or faith--it really doesn't matter, we tell ourselves. But we must learn this lesson of the Reformation. God speaks to us in his word. His are the words of truth. And words have meaning. Salvation cannot be both a gift and something earned. We can't be made righteous both by faith in Christ's work and faith in our own works.

This realization should lead us, as it did the Reformers, to gratitude and a desire to deliver to others the meaningful words of the gospel.

Yancey on Writing

Philip Yancey has some interesting things to say about the art of writing in his new book Grace Notes:

"Of all the arts, writing is the meekest. Painters use color and sculptors work with three dimensions, both media so much more arresting than the writer's thin marks of abstraction. Other art forms--movies, painting, dance, music--we encounter directly, sensually; only writing requires an intermediate step, literacy, for a person to perceive it. Show a copy of King Lear to an Amazon Indian tribe and they'll see something resembling pepper sprinkled on a page.

"Surveys reveal that writers rank very high on the list of addiction-prone professionals. They chain-smoke, mainline caffeine, and turn to alcohol at an alarming rate. Why? Every day a writer must cope with a deep-seated paranoia: I have nothing to say, I've said it all before, I'm a fake and a hypocrite, I write in cliches. In addition, writing is such a disembodied act that we unconsciously seek to involve other body parts, even if it means moving a cup, glass, or wrapped tobacco tube from table to mouth and back."

Autumn

I've been sitting here staring at my blog, trying to think of something to write about. I think I'm experiencing a personal autumn, although the results aren't nearly as lovely as some of the trees I see around me. It's an autumn in the sense that nothing new is growing at the moment, and I'm just basically hanging onto what is there, like the remaining leaves clinging to a tree branch.

Part of my problem is just some minor (and I underscore minor) health problems I've been wrestling with for a while now. Nothing life threatening--certainly not like cancer or heart disease--just annoying. And draining. Leaving me with little energy for writing. And I feel like a complete whiner even mentioning it when I think of the many people around me with real problems.

Hopefully spring will return to me faster than it does to Michigan. Maybe I'll even personally bypass winter. I think that there's probably some flexibility in our personal season changes. But in the meantime, I'll remind myself that autumn isn't just dying leaves; it's also apples and cinnamon, beautiful golds and reds, pumpkins, children dressed in costumes, and snuggling close to someone you love in front of the fireplace.

Manuscript Review Editor, or The Crusher of People's Dreams

When I tell people that I am an editor, the comment that often follows is, "Oh, so you read all day." And I think how lovely it would be to have a job where I was paid to "read all day." It's true, though: the job requires a fair bit of reading. One of the things I spend quite a bit of time reading is manuscript proposals. The publishing house I work for is one of the few that will still accept and respond to unsolicited manuscripts, that is, manuscripts that people just send, either by regular mail or electronically.

On a regular basis, I also review proposals that writers submit to writing services like Christian Manuscript Submissions and Writers Edge. An author pays a fee, and his or her proposal is either posted to a Web site or sent to us in a monthly newsletter. These are both Christian writers' services, so publishing houses like ours, Kregel, Baker, and others subscribe to the service. It's a good way for an author to get his or her manuscript exposed to many publishers without a huge effort.

It's rare to actually find a proposal that makes it past me for further consideration. Because we're so small and publish only about twelve new books a year, we're pretty picky about what we'll consider. I keep a record of my responses to author proposals, and for the past couple of years I've probably sent out about two hundred rejection letters, which makes me the crusher of many writers' dreams.

After doing this task for a little more than four years, I have found that I can usually tell whether something is of interest for us or not within a few lines or paragraphs. There are some definite tell-tale signs that can eliminate a manuscript very quickly. Here are some of the most common:

1. Don't tell me that your manuscript was inspired by God or that you received it from the Holy Spirit.

2. Don't tell me that there are no other books in the whole world like yours or that no one else has ever written on this subject.

3. Don't tell me your book is like Purpose Driven Life, Velvet Elvis, or Blue Like Jazz . One Rick Warren, Rob Bell, or Donald Miller is definitely enough for the publishing world.

4. Don't send me a handwritten proposal on lined notebook paper.

5. Don't misspell a word in your title. (I truly got one of these today.)

While it's a thankless job--writing to people to tell them that we "decline interest in their book"--somebody has to do it. And every once in a great while, I actually discover a good author, which makes the responsibility a lot more interesting.

Adversity

Adversity comes from so many different directions and in so many ways. Having felt the pain of the death of a young sister, the terminal illness of a spouse and his subsequent death, difficulties of unemployment and the financial worries associated with it, and just plain loneliness, I feel an empathy for those who suffer. While none of us can know exactly what another is experiencing, most of us know what pain is, and so many I know right now are experiencing great trials.

As I was editing away, I came across this passage from author David Roper, who offers great insight about adversity. He writes about the bristlecone pines, a type of tree that exists in the western United States. It's a tree that survives for many years (one is about five thousand years old) in high altitudes with little water in the face of strong winds. These are his comments:



Bristlecones know something we've forgotten: Hardship makes for
extraordinary strength and staying power.

We decry the parents who raised us or rail at present indignity and misery,
yet adversity is part of the good God has promised to do for us. Trouble, if it turns us to God, ceases to be evil. It becomes the best thing that could happen to us.

So we should pray, not for the relief of our affliction, but for the grace
to turn it into greater openness to God and to His will for us. That’s the
point of earthly life and the point of all our suffering.

Accepted as part of God’s will, difficulty delivers us from the necessities
that ordinary men and women cannot do without. It purifies us from our
earthly attachments and pride. It liberates us from ambition and the desire
for earthly prestige and power. It “digs in us a deeper place for God’s
grace to fill,” as a beleaguered friend of mine once said, and leaves us
wholly dependent upon God’s love alone. Thus we acquire extraordinary
strength and endurance that others never achieve.

That’s why Paul entreats us to rejoice in adversity, “knowing that
tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven
character . . .” (Romans 5:3, 4). We must dig deep in the hard times, with
unseen roots clinging “cramplike” to God. Thus we can be strong in calamity, at peace in the place where God has planted us. “I’ve not seen a
discontented tree,” John Muir said.

Les Miserables, Part Deux

It's interesting that at times we're able to get a look at something through someone else's eyes, and when we do, we come away with a different view, often a more appreciative one. It happened to me a couple of nights ago when my book group gathered to discuss Les Mis, a book I've been reading (and complaining about--see previous post) since late June/early July.

Two of us loved reading the classic, and two of us didn't. And I was one of the two who didn't. It was my turn to lead the discussion, and so I started off by asking, "So what did you two like so much about this?" And they told us. And while the novel still is not my favorite, I came away with a greater appreciation for it, wishing that I had read with eyes open to some of the nicer qualities that my reading sisters had seen all along.

Perhaps one of the richer themes of the story is the "advance from evil to good, from injustice to justice, from falsity to truth, from darkness to daylight, . . . from Hell to Heaven, from limbo to God." Hugo explores this theme through his main character Jean Valjean, who, at the beginning of the story, has just been released from nineteen years in prison for stealing a loaf of bread. (Another theme--and there are many in a novel of over a thousand pages--is the injustice of French society at this point in history.)

Valjean, homeless and hungry, is taken in for the night by a kind priest. In probably the most famous scene from the story, Valjean steals some silverware and candlesticks from the priest after everyone has gone to bed. He is caught with the items, but when the local authorities return Valjean and the stolen goods to the priest, the priest shows mercy and tells the authorities that he has given these things to Valjean. After the gendarmes release Valjean and leave, the priest tells Valjean he wants him to take the silver and use it to become an honest man. He tells him, "You no longer belong to what is evil but to what is good."

The rest of the novel traces Valjean's journey, as he becomes an honest man and shows mercy to everyone who crosses his path, even to those who are his enemies and wish to bring about his demise.

In that way the novel reflects the message of the gospel: We who are completely unworthy of mercy, who are enemies of God even when He has shown great kindness to us, have been rescued so that we may become holy. Like the priest and Valjean, God has purchased our souls so that we no longer belong to what is evil, but to what is good. At the end of the novel, Hugo shows the reader (you'll have to read yourself to find out how--I'm not giving everything away)that Valjean has never forgotten the mercy shown to him as he "advanced from limbo to God."

And I'm so glad there were readers in my book group who let me see this through their eyes.

Les Miserables

It's been difficult the last couple of months to find material for my "Great Stuff I Read This Week" posts. And it isn't because I haven't been reading. Quite the contrary! Since somewhere around the end of June--which, in reading time, feels like years--I've been working, nay battling, my way through Les Miserables by Victor Hugo.

Every spare reading moment I've had has been spent reading this elephantine piece of literature. It hasn't been without its pleasant moments-- with a book weighing in at 1200 pages, odds are good that Hugo would hit on something once in a while. But for the most part, it's an experience that I could have missed and still led a full life.

It's interesting. I lug this thing around everywhere I go, and usually someone has a comment. Usually it's either, "What a great book! I love that one!" or "I just couldn't get through that one." No one has ever really said, "I read it through, and I'm wondering why this has been designated a classic." So I'm claiming that response as my own.

So why I have kept on reading? Through fifty-some detailed pages on the Battle of Waterloo and, this evening, a chapter entitled "Ancient History of the Sewer?" Through lengthy passages extolling utopianism and giving the history of a Parisian order of nuns? Two words: book group. I made a vow to my sister readers, and I will keep it. I'm down to a little over a hundred pages, and by Monday night when we reunite after a summer of reading French names that none of us know how to pronounce, I will lead a discussion that will last at least fifteen minutes. My first discussion question: Would you rather read Les Miserables again, or go through 18 hours of hard labor without an epidural to deliver an 11-pound baby after being overdue for two weeks? Either would be pretty painful.

At any rate, this is the great stuff I read this week, a little reward from Victor Hugo to me after 999 pages of reading:

"Women, poor souls, are not much given to thinking."

And it's a good thing, because if I were, I would have donated my copy of this book to the library book sale back in July.

Nine Eleven

It's hard to believe that it has been eight years since we watched those terrible images of fiery planes and crumbling buildings over and over. It's still a frequent question among conversing groups: "Where were you when you heard about 9/11?" And everyone always has an answer. We can't forget something that horrible. Can we?

I was teaching at the time at a small school in Hudsonville, Michigan. I was tired that morning because the night before I had been out late--an infrequent occurrence for me on a weeknight. I had been at the Allegan County Fair at a Michael W. Smith concert. It had been one of those balmy, beautiful late summer evenings. The weather and music combined made for a wonderful evening. Whoever would have dreamed what we would wake up to?

Since I was tired, I stopped at a drive-thru coffee place near school for a caffeine boost. As the woman at the window handed me my coffee, she asked,"Did you hear what happened?" What had happened had just happened, so all anyone could say at that point was that a plane (or two) had flown into the Twin Towers. When I got to school, I asked David, the principal, if he was aware of what was happening. Phone calls from parents and wives kept coming, and finally David called all of the students and teachers out onto the lawn to tell them what he little he knew and to pray--while we weren't sure what we were praying for, we knew where our Help had to come from right then.

Later, I drove home on 44th Street, usually a busy east/west road that runs past a mall, restaurants, office buildings, and, after several miles, the airport. The mall had been closed, as had all buildings that day that could accommodate large crowds. There was no one on the streets. There were no planes in the sky. It was like one of those eerily quiet times that occurs before a big storm strikes, except that something had already struck.

Our family had no personal knowledge of anyone killed in the 9/11 attacks. We shared the grief of the nation. My son, only seven at the time and in first grade, probably was impacted the most. His reaction was like one who passes an auto accident--horrified, fearful, and yet he couldn't seem to stop watching. We lived in a small tri-level house at the time, and his bedroom was on the upper level, next to mine. For weeks afterwards, he insisted on sleeping on the lower level, "in case a plane came." We eventually had to keep the newspapers away from him because he couldn't stop reading--and being terrified. It will probably be a memory he shares with his own children someday.

I've visited the site where the Twin Towers once stood, and I'm amazed at how ordinary it all looks. There really aren't any signs of the terrible scenes that we watched on TV of firefighters and other emergency personnel, black smoke everywhere, and people with fearful expressions running . . . somewhere. An old, colonial era church stands near the site--during the crisis a place of rest and triage for those who were injured and those who needed a break from their work. It's hard to believe that in a such a place of quaintness and quiet that something so terrible could have happened.

The big question is whether our children will remember this, the way some remember the assassination of JFK or the explosion of the Challenger. And, sadly, there are reports that some of the children who were Jonathan's age and younger already have forgotten the events of that day. But they need to remember--not in a morbid sort of way but in the way that memories serve us as a defense--that we can be attacked, that we can be vulnerable, that we do have enemies. A sad thing,that our children should have this memory. But sadder still if they would forget.

Magic China

You probably think that you're looking at a teacup, saucer, creamer, and sugar bowl--and you are. But that's not all they are.

They're magic. When I look at them, I see a large, extended family gathered for a meal--probably Thanksgiving. A couple of children (one looks like me) sit at the dining room table with the adults with smug looks on their faces while they listen to the rest of the kids, who have been banished to the kitchen. From the kitchen there is laughter and talking--and probably not much eating and not much of a sense of having been banished.

I hear children playing hide and seek somewhere upstairs, running and falling on hardwood floors, and women are in the kitchen doing dishes, chatting about the latest phase their children are going through. Snores come from the living room, where the men are "watching" the after-dinner game.

When I look at the dishes, I can smell raisin-filled cookies, the ones that even people who don't like raisins like. The ones that no one can ever duplicate, even though we all have the recipe. No one really tries anymore.

When I look at the dishes, I see Grandma wrapping a present, seams and corners perfectly matched and folded. I hold the tape for her while she cuts and folds, and then I watch in amazement as she curls ribbon with the edge of her shears.

When I look at the dishes, I am transported back to Grandma's bedroom. She's thrown a blanket over the headboard and got out all her flannelgraph for me to play with. Right now, Daniel is praying in the center of a mess of hungry lions.

And when I look at the dishes, I'm holding a hand of Author cards. I'm sitting across from my brother, next to Grandma. I'm wondering if Tim has Twice Told Tales by Nathaniel Hawthorne.

And after years of being wrapped in paper and stored first in an attic, and
then in a garage, these dishes have once again been lovingly washed and placed in a china cabinet--where there is finally room for them, where they belong. Their cheery yellow color and bright pansies brighten the room, just as their former owner's smile once did. They're very fragile, and some of the pieces have been glued together, and the old glue has made them turn brown. But they're still magic, because to look at them is to think Grandma and to brush away a tear or swallow a lump.

A New Era

This is Katie, college freshman at Cornerstone University as of today. This isn't quite the photo I had hoped for, but it was a busy day, and in the end, the photo that I had envisioned, of Katie sitting at her desk in her freshly organized dorm room, just didn't happen.

Maybe this one is better though. As we backed out of the driveway, the car loaded with boxes and suitcases (you can see them in the background), Katie pulled my camera out, took a picture of herself, and said, "This is how I look now. In four years, when I'm done with college, we'll take a picture and see how I've changed."

It will be interesting in four years to see how she's changed, but I'm pretty sure a camera won't be able to capture it all. If Katie's college experience is anything like mine was, she will experience tremendous spiritual, intellectual, emotional growth and change--the kind of things a camera won't capture.

It was a busy day. We began and ended it in lines. This morning we waited briefly for a student ID and the laptop incentive that Cornerstone offers to its new students. Laptop and student ID in hand, we drove over to Katie's dorm, and we barely got the trunks open when Cornerstone staffers picked up all the boxes and carried them to her room. A most impressive display of help!

After lunch, we left Katie and her roommate, Shanda from Indiana (that rhymes!), to assemble their room but returned for the late afternoon welcome ceremony, with praise and worship music (more on that in a future post), an address from Cornerstone president Joe Stowell, and prayers for parents and students.

We ended the day with a dinner in the gym (after an hour-long wait in line) and a quick good-bye back at Katie's dorm. Stowell commented that today, the students all feel like they're at summer camp, and I think I'm having a hard time not thinking that as well. About October, he said, reality will hit the students, and that's when they'll start feeling homesick. I'm thinking that may be when it hits me too. Right now, I can walk upstairs, open her bedroom door--and the mess everywhere won't let me believe that she's too far away.

As Jonathan and I pulled out of the parking lot, I said, "Well, it's the end of an era. You'll get to see what it's like to be an only child." He's not sure what he thinks about that, but I think he'll come to like it. He said to me, "Another four years, and you'll have one kid out of the house." He obviously thinks she's just at summer camp, too.

Christian Fiction

Before I became a book editor, I worked for about a year and a half at a local Christian bookseller. It was an interesting job, and I learned a great deal that has helped me in my current job as an editor. I had an opportunity to learn about current popular Christian authors, Christian book publishers, Christian music--and a lot about the consumers of it all who came into the bookstore.

One of the perks of working in the store is that we were able to borrow books to read so that we could familiarize ourselves with the product. I had never developed a favorable impression of Christian fiction--being an English major who studied Shakespeare, Milton, Hawthorne, and Twain--but since I had access to shelf after shelf of Christian fiction material, I made it my goal to find a well written Christian novel during my time there. One reason was that fiction was the overwhelming favorite of many of the customers, and they often asked for a recommendation. I always steered them to C. S. Lewis but had a feeling they'd be disappointed when they got home. Why take days to read a Lewis novel when you could whip through a Karen Kingsbury series in a week?

Frequently ladies would tell me that there was one novel that I just had to read--Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers. Those who loved the book just couldn't say enough good things about it. Many said that it was one of the best books they had ever read. Finally, I broke down and read it. To that point in my life, I could honestly say I had never read a Harlequin romance. But with Francine I discovered a new genre: Christian Harlequin romance fiction. And I was shocked. And it takes quite a lot to shock me.

The well-written jacket copy tells the reader that this is a "powerful retelling of the book of Hosea . . . a life-changing story of God's unconditional, redemptive, all-consuming love." The story is set in California's gold country in 1850, and the main characters are Michael Hosea (get it?) and Angel, a bitter young woman who was sold into prostitution as a child. God tells Michael to marry Angel and love her unconditionally. Being a handsome, godly, near-perfect man with the patience and sensitivity of a Christian fiction main male character, Michael does just that. Angel, following in Gomer's footsteps, puts up a barrier to deflect Michael's love and runs away several times during the course of the novel. Michael always goes after her and brings her back.

It all sounds very Christian and very spiritual, and yet as I read the novel I sensed that there was something driving the plot that wasn't quite appealing to the "whatever is pure" part of my thought processes. Rivers makes it very clear from the beginning of the story that Michael--despite his handsome, manly appearance and character--is a virgin. Angel--beautiful, mystifying, distant, and a prostitute--is not. Although the couple marry, Michael--again with the patience of an uber-Job, waits for Angel to put her guard down, to love and be loved--before consummating the marriage.

There are many wistful glances, lips brushing, longing gazes, suggestive conversations, and skin brushing against skin incidents that occur long before Michael and Angel physically become man and wife. In fact, I finally discovered why all those ladies were so in love with this novel. I have to confess that I've watched R rated movies with their nudity, groping, clothes flying, clutching, and panting, but I don't think I've ever encountered much in any media form that compares with page 156 of Redeeming Love, the page where Michael finally meets Angel on the "marriage bed." It finally dawned on me why all those ladies were so excited about this novel. And it also reminded me that words can be more powerful than visual images in stirring the imagination.

And so I have more questions than answers as recent life events force me to once again consider this genre of Christian fiction. What makes a Karen Kingsbury or Amish fiction novel or Francine Rivers story Christian? A plot line that leads to the unregenerate main character "getting saved" in the final paragraphs in the book? The fact that there are no "bad words" in the text? Is a writer writing Christianly when she describes sexual activity (between a man and wife, of course) in a sensual way that could potentially arouse emotions in readers in a less than pure way? Does basing a story on a biblical account like Hosea necessarily make it Christian?

I've long had a concern for readers who fill their minds with Christian fiction to the exclusion of anything else. I'm not convinced it's much healthier than a constant diet of soap operas or chick lit. And while I admittedly found some enjoyable reads in the Christian fiction section, my craving for quality craftsmanship would not be met there. The question we must ask of Christian fiction, just like any other media/art form we encounter, is does it stir thoughts that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, or praiseworthy? Or does it just present worldly notions in a seemingly more acceptable package?

It's Just a Theory

A very long time ago, when I was a junior high and high school language arts teacher, I used a common exercise that many teachers of language arts use to encourage their students to write creatively and imaginatively. In this exercise, the emphasis was not on grammar, spelling, punctuation--the mechanical things that bog student writers down--but on allowing ideas to flow from brain to paper with ease. Usually on one day of the week, I would provide my students with some type of writing prompt that they were to respond to in a journal. Topics were things like, "What was your favorite birthday gift?" Or "Write about your favorite vacation." One subject that comes up in nearly every teacher resource book is this: "What would you do if you were the principal of your school?"

Students would inevitably write things like: "Have pizza and candy for lunch every day." "Get rid of math class." "Have recess for four hours every day." "Let students sit wherever they want in their classrooms." Students usually responded impulsively and really didn't give much thought to what the consequences of their policies would be if they ever actually were put in place. It wasn't the point.

At the end of the year, I'd send their journals home with them, and if the journal even made it home, it was probably stuffed in a drawer or thrown in a closet. (I know this because this is what my children did when they brought their journals home.) Years later, probably during spring cleaning, the journal emerges from the crowded drawers or the back of the closet. Now an adult, the journal writer reads through his childish notions and laughs at his immature ideas about what would have made a good school to a junior high student. The adult realizes that it wouldn't have been nutritionally healthy to eat pizza and candy everyday; that in fact it was important to learn math skills; that having recess for four hours wouldn't leave enough time to learn what was really essential; that sitting next to his friends in class probably would have made it even more difficult to pay attention to lessons. He realizes that the consequences of his childish policies would have had a devastating impact on his life.

So I'm imagining a young Barack Obama journaling away on the topic of what he'd do if he were to become president of the United States: "I'd take over the auto, banking, and heathcare industries"; "I'd make abortion as accessible as possible to anyone who wants one"; "I'd spend more taxpayer dollars than all the previous administrations before me"; I'd say whatever I wanted whether I had all the information I needed to comment intelligently." "I'd have the best, most expensive vacations ever, and I wouldn't care about what anyone else thought." "I'll appoint justices to the Supreme Court who think the Constitution is an antiquated document that has nothing to say about law in the twenty-first century, who will create legislation from the bench that will benefit minorities in the interest of fairness."

At the end of the school year, instead of throwing his journal away, shoving it in a drawer, or pitching it to the back of his closet, young Barack left it open on his desk, and he read his policy ideas over and over and thought they were good, but he never quite made it to the maturing part that allowed him to understand that silly policies have terrible consequences. And so years later, he implements what he believes are great policies and doesn't really care about the consequences. The consequences are beside the point.

And somewhere, a language arts prep school teacher in Hawaii is kicking herself for using "What would you do if you were president?" as a writing prompt.

Expressing Pain and Sorrow

In this passage from the Institutes, Calvin explains that Christians ought to give expression to their pain and sorrow. To experience sadness in this world and to just "keep a stiff upper lip" is not a Christian practice, according to this one who experienced much pain, sorrow, and grief in this life.

"We have nothing to do with this iron philosophy [of Stoicism] which our Lord and Master has condemned not only by his word, but also by his example. For he groaned and wept both over his own and others' misfortunes. And he taught his disciples in the same way: 'The world,' he says, 'will rejoice; but you will be sorrowful and will weep' [John 16:20]. And that no one might turn it into a vice, he openly proclaimed, 'Blessed are those who mourn' [Matt. 5:4]. No wonder! For if all weeping is condemned, what shall we judge concerning the Lord himself, from whose body tears of blood trickled down [Luke 22:44]? If all fear is branded as unbelief, how shall we account for that dread with which, we read, he was heavily stricken [Matt. 26:37; Mark 14:33]? If all sadness displeases us, how will it please us that he confesses his soul 'sorrowful even to death' [Matt. 26:38]? . . .

"Thus it will come to pass that, by whatever kind of cross we may be troubled, even in the greatest tribulations of mind, we shall firmly keep our patience. For the adversities themselves will have their bitterness to gnaw at us; thus afflicted by disease, we shall both groan and be uneasy and pant after health; thus pressed by poverty, we shall be pricked by the arrows of care and sorrow; thus we shall be smitten by the pain of disgrace, contempt, injustice; thus at the funerals of our dear ones we shall weep the tears that are owed to our nature. But the conclusion will always be: the Lord so willed, therefore let us follow his will. Indeed, amid the very pricks of pain, amid groaning and tears, this thought must intervene: to incline our heart to bear cheerfully those things which have so moved it."

Annette and the Miserable, Crazy, Nasty, Ugly Monday Morning

If you've ever had any grade schoolers in your house, you've probably read (many times) Judith Viorst's classic, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. With my apologies to Judith and to those who really do have serious problems in their life, here's my own personal version.

Because of all the thunder, lightening, and storms, I didn't sleep very much last night, which meant that Henry didn't either. When I half-woke from my brief, but deep stupor, after awhile I realized that it was much lighter outside than it normally is when we get up. I looked at my clock and realized it was 6:45--about 45 minutes later than we were supposed to get up. Something had happened to the alarm. After realizing just how late we all were, Henry got up for the first shower because he had to take Jonathan to driver's ed, and they needed to leave by 7:30. I could tell it was going to be a miserable, crazy, nasty, ugly Monday morning.

As I made the bed and wrapped my mind around what needed to happen, I started to wonder if I would be able to get ready on time for my mammogram, scheduled for 8:00. An 8:00 Monday morning mammogram is not the best way to start the week already, but thinking that I might have to postpone to another day was somehow worse.

I think I'll move to Tahiti.

Jonathan had gone to the basement to sleep to escape the flashing and booming of the lightning and thunder. I went down to wake him, thinking he possibly slept past his alarm too. When I told him it was time to get up, he snarled at me because the alarm he had set hadn't gone off quite yet.

I showered and got ready pretty quickly. Katie's future Cornerstone roommate had come to stay for a couple of days, and they were using the bathroom--and Jonathan couldn't get in to get ready. The ensuing chaos was more than I could handle, so I went downstairs to grab some toast and a banana. Someone had changed the setting on the toaster so that my "toast" ended up being tannish, slightly warm bread. There was no coffee. I could tell that it was going to be a miserable, crazy, nasty, ugly Monday morning.

When I got to the lab for my mammogram, the grouchy lady at the front desk took my name, entered it in her computer, and scoldingly told me I was supposed to be there at 7:30. "That's not what my calendar said," I wittily shot back. "I wouldn't make an appoinment for that early." And I wouldn't. She told me if I hung around, maybe they could squeeze me in--no pun intended. I told her no thanks--I needed to get to work and I would reschedule. Maybe--if I'm lucky--I can get another Monday morning appointment.

I NEEDED coffee. I went across the street to Horrocks, a market where I was sure I had seen a coffee bar. When I went to the coffee area, a sign said that the coffee was complimentary for customers. Not feeling quite right about walking in, taking free coffee, and then walking out, I asked the deli lady if I could buy some. "Coffee's free," she said. I grabbed a nice cup of French Vanilla and three peaches to soothe my guilty conscience.

It was a miserable, crazy, nasty, ugly Monday morning.

When I got to work, I went to the ladies' room. I looked in the mirror as I washed my hands and realized that my eyes looked strange--washed out. I realized I had put on all my makeup except my mascara, an event that may have now occurred twice in all my make-up wearing years.

When I get home, I thought, I'm going to pack for Tahiti.

I have to say, though, that with the exception of AOL not loading my emails properly and my fighting through the haze of fatigue to do my work, the rest of the day wasn't so bad. Of course when I went to Walmart at lunchtime to pick up a few things I needed, they didn't have my brand of deodorant, so for the first time in my deodorant-using experience, I'm trying a new brand.

I wonder if they have Soft and Dry in Tahiti.

Treasures in Jars of Clay

This week I have marveled again at how God delights in showing His strength in weakness. At the forefront of local news this week has been a young man in his early thirties who is an administrator at a small Christian school that many of our friends' children attend. One week ago, while his wife was visiting friends on the East Coast, he fell off a ladder in his garage and, unable to move, laid on the floor for about twenty hours until his father found him and got medical attention for him. While the outlook for his survival was quite bleak earlier this week, his family and friends are rejoicing that he is showing great signs of recovery; in fact, he may be moved to a rehabilitation hospital on Monday. His position as a small school administrator and the extreme trauma of the accident have brought a great deal of local media attention to him and his family. His father and wife have been interviewed on television, and the area newspaper has featured several stories. The family members consistently testify to God's faithfulness and to their dependence on Him, regardless of the eventual outcome. Strength in weakness.

We are, after all, just jars of clay. And our beauty lies in the treasure within us, the ministry of the gospel, and my sweet friend Alicia, at Gavin's Voice, writes beautifully about what she has gained through suffering, as she has loved and cared for her little Gavin through the illness, surgeries, and, at times, life threatening conditions he has faced in his nearly three little years. A jar of clay bursting with the treasure within her.

And yet another dear person, my niece Kristin, has been showing those who know her how beautiful a jar of clay can be. A wonderful wife and mom to two boys, Kristin gave birth to her daughter, Joanna Claire, this week. The problem, though, was that Joanna Claire has been experiencing heart failure since early in Kristin's pregnancy, and at 26 weeks, Joanna went to be with Jesus before she could even be born to this world. And if that weren't trial enough, Joanna joins her older brother, Noah, in heaven. Noah died shortly after his birth in 2006, a victim of a disease that Kristin and her husband were aware of through most of that pregnancy as well. Despite the trial of bearing two children that Kristin would never know in this world, she continues to testify to God's faithfulness and love. A jar of clay bursting with treasure for all to see. You can read about Kristin's pain and her godly response to it here

And in the midst of all this, I have been editing a book by first-time author Gay Hubbard entitled More Than an Aspirin. Gay, a wise and experienced counselor, writes about managing the pain and disappointment in our lives, and the conclusion of her book proves to be an insightful commentary about this life's journey through pain and why it is, as she describes it, a "grimly splendid option," which both Kristin and Alicia already understand. But as jars of clay, Kristin and Alicia would want to point not at themselves and their strength, but at the God who has protected them and kept them strong so that they will never break.


"In this life, the most important thing is not the pain or the joy or the ways in which we manage either. The most important thing is the person we become in progress through the long journey home.

In the end, we discover that one answer to the “why” question is a “who”—the person we can become.

Life, including both our joy and our journey through pain, provides the living space in which we may become family with whom God will be happy to spend eternity (Revelation 21:3–4). We can make vital connection with God through our joy, but the journey through pain provides a grimly splendid option. Uniquely there, we can come to know Christ, the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His suffering, and, in this knowing, become like Him (Philippians 3:10–11). It is a prospect to strengthen the weariest pilgrim, worn with the worst of pain.

I think at times about my own journey through pain in this way. It was not—and is not—where I would have wished to go. Nevertheless, this unwelcome journey provides for me the option of becoming who I intend to be. By God’s grace I shall arrive home at last. When I join that huge joyous family crowding around our first-born brother, Jesus (Romans 8:29), I intend that everyone present can know simply by looking that I belong to the family because I look so much like Him (1 John 3:2–3). There I will be glad for His forgiving grace and for every part of the journey—for the pain and the grief and the darkness itself. I will be glad for everything that changed me so that I could carry forever His family likeness in my face."

~From More Than an Aspirin by Gay Hubbard, releasing from Discovery House Publishers in October 2009

Eighteen

Once upon a time--July 26, 1991, in fact--a red-headed princess was born. It was the only time in her life she was ever early, but that's because this was a princess with lots to do, so she really needed to get things moving. Her mom and dad named her Kathleen Kristi Lynn, but because that was such a big name for a such a little girl, they called her Katie. And with the red hair and eventual freckles and all, it seemed to fit.

For the first few months, the princess cried--a lot! But after about four months, when she got big enough to sit up in a walker and push herself around the house, she stopped crying so much. This was a princess who needed to do stuff--all the time--and once she was able to do stuff, she was much happier.

Like most princesses, this one grew. She liked to talk (a lot), sing, and laugh. Everywhere she went, people asked her, "Where did you get that pretty red hair?" One day when the Meijer cashier asked this very question, the princess answered, "From God." And she was right.

The princess experienced some difficult blows. When she was four, her daddy died--and she was a daddy's girl if there ever was one. For different reasons, she had to change schools way too many times. That was hard. But she was a strong princess, and she continued to be very smart, and she always liked to talk, sing, and laugh.

As the princess grew, she became quite a companion for her lonely mom and went with her to plays, restaurants, and concerts. She developed her own unique sense of hair and clothing style. As she became less and less of a child, she grew to love children more and more. And they love her, too. She learned to see the things in the world around her with a different eye from most people, and she started taking pictures of the things she saw.

The most important thing that the princess could have done and will ever do, she did. She publically professed her faith in Jesus and vowed to serve Him with her life.

So with that most important event accomplished, the princess graduated from high school. And she begins a new chapter in her life this fall when she goes to college. It seems it doesn't really take very long to get to eighteen.

Happy birthday, Katie!

Solving the Problem

A brief, but interesting article by Mark Honneger in Modern Reformation's May/June 2009 issue entitled "The Problem Is the Problem" asserts that the gospel solves a problem. Honneger then considers which of the world's many problems it does, in fact, solve. And then simply, clearly, Honneger answers his own question: the problem is that the wrath of God has been revealed against all ungodliness. To make it simple, God is justly mad at sinners. Honneger points out that like Pilate of long ago, people today aren't interested in the problem that Jesus came to solve. The church's response to this has been to figure out which problems people want solved, and then appeal to them on that basis rather than simply tell them the brutal, ugly facts: people are sinners who need God's forgiveness. They need a Savior. Honneger goes on to describe current evangelistic appeals that the church uses today and why they fail to get to the heart of the matter.

I started thinking about the instances in the Bible where Jesus, Paul, and the other apostles confronted people with their sin and then explained the solution. One that came to mind was Jesus' conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well. If there ever were a person with "issues," this woman was one. She had had five marriages that had either ended in death or divorce. When Jesus meets her, she is living with a man who is not her husband. She's clearly a societal outcast; she comes to the well at the hottest time of the day to draw water to avoid the other women of the town. And there are issues of race as well. As a Samaritan, this woman was part of a racially mixed group--partly Jewish, partly Gentile. As a result, both Jews and non-Jews were disdainful of the Samaritans. This was a person with a lot of problems, someone who clearly needed Jesus (as we all, in fact, do).

So how would today's church attempt relevancy with this woman? Honneger describes the different approaches that the church today takes. How would this exchange look in the twenty-first century?

Clearly this woman has character flaws and is in need of moral or character reform, a problem people today care about. They want to improve themselves. We might appeal to her on the basis of her need to improve her character. She probably does feel guilty--and rightly so. So the church could teach her how to be a better person: how to be a better wife; how to communicate with her partner better; how to form a lasting relationship. But in the end, she would still be guilty before God, so character reform would not resolve her problems.

Another strategy is felt needs. Churches don't want to appeal to people on the basis of their sin because that would turn them off and drive them away. We could appeal to her concerns, and then she might hang around long enough to hear the gospel. She's probably lonely, in need of girlfriends, so we could invite her to the coffee bar and just talk with her. Coming to get water is difficult for her; we could arrange to have it delivered so that she doesn't have to come out in the heat of the day to avoid the other women. Honneger points out that Jesus healed people not to avoid delivering the message of sin but to fulfill prophecy and to show that He was, in fact, the Messiah. He fed the crowds bread, but when He knows that they are following Him simply because of their felt needs--more bread--He drives them away. He urges them to turn their attention from earthly needs to eternal life. Likewise, meeting the woman's felt needs would not drive her to acknowledge her need to seek forgiveness of her sins.

Honneger points out that many use an appeal to people's needs to acknowledge past hurts before they can come to God and be saved. This woman, with five husbands in her past, no female friends, and race issues probably had a few hurts. But Honneger again points out that what separated her from God was not her past hurts but her guilt. To start to discuss all of the hurts in her life would turn her focus onto herself. She would be reminded of others' shortcomings. She wouldn't be driven to consider her own guilt before God.

According to Honneger, the church has lost confidence in the power of the gospel to transform lives when it adopts all of these other types of appeals. We've stopped believing that the simple message of the gospel can change the world. We need something more creative, relevant, updated, current.

And yet how does Jesus approach the woman at the well? Does He offer her "7 Tips on How to Improve Relationships?" Does He acknowledge her hurts, empathize with her, encourage her to work through it all so that she can come to Him and be saved? Does He try to help her figure out a way to get water more easily into her home so that she doesn't have to come out in the heat of the day?

Jesus tells her that He has living water to offer--the Holy Spirit dwelling in her, making her alive. He tells her He can give her living water that will satisfy eternally. And He lets her know, gently and compassionately, that she is a sinner, and He knows it. And then He tells her that He is the Messiah, the one who has come to deliver her from her sin and guilt. And she, then, goes to share the good news with others. No programs, classes, coffee bars, or food pantry. Jesus, with a gentle whisper, shows her grace that forgives and resolves the problems of guilt and shame, demonstrating the power of the gospel to resolve our biggest problem.

Piper on TV and Movies

Here is a brief, but excellently reasoned response from John Piper to a question about why he doesn't own a TV and rarely goes to movies:


I suspect that Mark [Driscoll] and I would not agree on the degree to which the average pastor needs to be movie-savvy in order to be relevant, and the degree to which we should expose ourselves to the world’s entertainment.

I think relevance in preaching hangs very little on watching movies, and I think that much exposure to sensuality, banality, and God-absent entertainment does more to deaden our capacities for joy in Jesus than it does to make us spiritually powerful in the lives of the living dead. Sources of spiritual power—which are what we desperately need—are not in the cinema. You will not want your biographer to write: Prick him and he bleeds movies.

If you want to be relevant, say, for prostitutes, don’t watch a movie with a lot of tumbles in a brothel. Immerse yourself in the gospel, which is tailor-made for prostitutes; then watch Jesus deal with them in the Bible; then go find a prostitute and talk to her. Listen to her, not the movie. Being entertained by sin does not increase compassion for sinners.

There are, perhaps, a few extraordinary men who can watch action-packed, suspenseful, sexually explicit films and come away more godly. But there are not many. And I am certainly not one of them.

I have a high tolerance for violence, high tolerance for bad language, and zero tolerance for nudity. There is a reason for these differences. The violence is make-believe. They don’t really mean those bad words. But that lady is really naked, and I am really watching. And somewhere she has a brokenhearted father.

I’ll put it bluntly. The only nude female body a guy should ever lay his eyes on is his wife’s. The few exceptions include doctors, morticians, and fathers changing diapers. “I have made a covenant with my eyes; how then could I gaze at a virgin?” (Job 31:1). What the eyes see really matters. “Everyone who looks at a woman to desire her has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Matthew 5:28). Better to gouge your eye than go to hell (verse 29).

Brothers, that is serious. Really serious. Jesus is violent about this. What we do with our eyes can damn us. One reason is that it is virtually impossible to transition from being entertained by nudity to an act of “beholding the glory of the Lord.” But this means the entire Christian life is threatened by the deadening effects of sexual titillation.

All Christ-exalting transformation comes from “beholding the glory of Christ.” “Beholding the glory of the Lord, [we] are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Corinthians 3:18). Whatever dulls the eyes of our mind from seeing Christ powerfully and purely is destroying us. There is not one man in a thousand whose spiritual eyes are more readily moved by the beauty of Christ because he has just seen a bare breast with his buddies.

But leave sex aside (as if that were possible for fifteen minutes on TV). It’s the unremitting triviality that makes television so deadly. What we desperately need is help to enlarge our capacities to be moved by the immeasurable glories of Christ. Television takes us almost constantly in the opposite direction, lowering, shrinking, and deadening our capacities for worshiping Christ.

One more smaller concern with TV (besides its addictive tendencies, trivialization of life, and deadening effects): It takes time. I have so many things I want to accomplish in this one short life. Don’t waste your life is not a catchphrase for me; it’s a cliff I walk beside every day with trembling.

TV consumes more and more time for those who get used to watching it. You start to feel like it belongs. You wonder how you could get along without it. I am jealous for my evenings. There are so many things in life I want to accomplish. I simply could not do what I do if I watched television. So we have never had a TV in 40 years of marriage (except in Germany, to help learn the language). I don’t regret it.


Pastor John


By John Piper. © Desiring God. Website: desiringGod.org

A Year in the Life . . .

This was us, a year ago on Saturday. While the year has blissfully flown by, it feels like I've been married to my dear Henry forever--in a good way, in the way that you can't really remember what life was like before. What a happy day--the day I became Mrs. Gysen. Happy first anniversary to us!

Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away. If one were to give all of his house for love, it would be utterly scorned. ~Song of Songs 8:6

There is no more lovely, friendly and charming relationship, communion or company than a good marriage. ~Martin Luther

Come, let's be a comfortable couple and take care of each other! How glad we shall be, that we have somebody we are fond of always, to talk to and sit with. ~Charles Dickens

[W]hen you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. ~Nora Ephron, When Harry Met Sally

Love, how did I find you?
Was I even breathing before I knew your name?
Who could ever have planned this?
Arranged a whole planet to all turn out this way.
Hey, only Heaven knows
The dreams behind these things I'm asking
Even our angels look surprised
To bump their wings in passing
I love you
How can I say,
I love you
Let the words escape
Though you snuck up behind me
I thought I was hiding
But oh how I fell for you
~Chris Rice, "Let the Words Escape"

*photo by LVL Photography

The Boring Things

Anyone who believes in global warming should really go on one of our family vacations because we tend to pick the record-breaking cold weeks--like last week. And yet we still managed to have a good time during our beach/hiking/pool/outdoor activity oriented vacation, even though we kept hearing things like "Nice day--for October," or "Welcome, fall."

But what are you going to do when it's 62 degrees on July 2, gray, and drizzly--and you're on vacation? You go see a movie. And so instead of slathering on sun block and heading outdoors, Henry, Jonathan, and I (Katie had not joined us yet) headed off to see Pixar's Up!, which I had already seen; Henry and Jonathan were seeing it for the first time.

I'm always hesitant to say too much about a movie here because I don't want to spoil the story for someone who hasn't seen it yet. It is one of the most charming films I've ever seen, and I cried both times I watched it. The movie tells the story of the adventures of Carl Frederickson, the most unlikely hero of a children's movie you could ever imagine. While we get a brief recap of Carl's life, Carl is a senior citizen at the beginning of the movie. He misses his wife Ellie, the love of his life and best friend, who has recently died. And to make matters worse, he is about to lose the house he has shared with Ellie during their entire marriage, and he's being forced into living at the Shady Oaks Retirement Home.

Carl feels like he and Ellie have missed out. They were unable to have children, and their dream of visiting Paradise Falls in South America never worked out. But in a desperate escape, Carl, a balloon salesman at the zoo, attaches balloons to his house and floats off for the adventure of his life.

At the risk of spoiling the movie for those who haven't seen it yet, I'll stop there. But the thing I love the most about this movie is Carl's interactions with a young boy named Russell, who accidentally ends up as Carl's companion on the adventure. We learn Russell has a deep yearning for his dad, who really isn't around much. In a poignant moment, Russell tells Carl about an experience he shared with his dad when they went out for ice cream. The two of them sat on the curb eating ice cream and counting cars--red ones and blue ones. It was a game to see who could count the most. Young Russell reflects on this time and tells Carl that while this may not sound very exciting, "it's the boring things I think I remember the most."

I love that thought--coming especially from the mouth of a child. And as the movie continues, Carl learns that this is a truth that Ellie had come to realize as well. She understood that adventure is in the things that we experience every day. In the end, it's the small things that matter to us. And I think of my own "boring things." Playing Old Maid with my own family when we were on vacation during a cold, rainy stretch and laughing hysterically at my little sister's antics. Walking into my grandma's house on a cold winter day after school to find warm, buttery cinnamon toast waiting. Competing with my siblings to get the ice cream off the ice cream maker blades after my dad finished making ice cream. Sitting on the steps with my cousins to eat a meal at my grandma's house because there wasn't room for us all at the table and sharing the sofa bed with my sister and at least one other cousin when we went to bed (things were always a little cramped at Grandma's house).

It was the perfect movie for a family that was a little disappointed in the weather to see--to be reminded that the real adventures don't just happen on the beach or in the woods or at the swimming pool; they can happen wherever we are if we're with the people we love.

The Cost of Truth

My reading has taken on a theme, without my really planning it. I've just finished a historical fiction novel written in 1979 and based on a true story: Coronation of Glory: The Story of Lady Jane Grey by Deborah Meroff. Lady Jane lived in England from 1537-1554 during a tempestuous period of history. During Edward's reign (the young, sickly son of Henry VIII who succeeded him), Lady Jane was fifth in line to the throne. With the nation sharply divided between Roman Catholics and Protestants, there was great concern over which monarch would guide the nation and which religion would be the legal one.

The story is filled with political intrigue, with the adults surrounding Edward and Jane seemingly more concerned with power than religious integrity. Interestingly, both Jane and Edward had been educated by Reformed tutors and were deeply committed to the faith of the Reformation. When it became clear that Edward was not going to live long, his advisors, seeking political gain, convinced him to make Jane his successor, bypassing his two sisters, Mary and Elizabeth. At Edward's death, Jane, fifteen years old and married, became queen for nine days, until Mary--a deeply committed Roman Catholic--was able to summon her forces and capture London and the throne for herself.

Although Jane was arrested, those around her assured her that even though she would be tried, convicted, and sentenced to death, Mary would forgive and the sentence would be forgotten. Mary, though, a fervent Catholic (earning the nickname Bloody Mary because of the number of people she sent to their deaths during her reign), sent her priest and advisor on many occasions to try to convince Jane to recant while she remained imprisoned in the Tower. Jane consistently refused, standing firm for the truths she held dear, and eventually she paid the ultimate price with her life at 16 years old.

I've also been reading a guide to the life and theology of Martin Luther, a Reformer that most are more familiar with. About Luther's legacy, author Stephen Nichols writes, "Imagine a world without Protestantism. If you were a young Augustinian monk in the early decades of the sixteenth century, this is actually not such a difficult situation to imagine. For Luther, reality was a world without Protestantism. His choices were clear: either the Roman Catholic Church or paganism. As a monk, of course, he embraced the former. When Luther died in 1546, however, the world had changed drastically . . . Luther initiated a sea change of reform that would shake the entire world."

A deeply held commitment to Christ and the truth of His Word led these two people in history to take a stand that for one led to execution. The other certainly risked the possibility of death. Neither Lady Jane nor Luther were at all reluctant to distinguish truth from error, to recognize certain doctrines as true and others as false. Such commitment to truth seems rare in these days, when the highest values are tolerance and acceptance of all religions as equally valid.

The doctrine that many stake their claim on is that Buddhism, Islam, Judaism, Christianity--in fact, any religion--all have different routes to truth, but they are equally valuable ways that will lead to the same destination. Rather than distinguishing between truth and falsehood, they seek the common ground.

Reformers like Luther and Lady Jane made their sacrifices as they travelled the narrow, unpopular path that asserted that there is only one true gospel communicated clearly in Scripture, and its truths may not be compromised.

A Holy Resting

The subject of the Sabbath seems to be a popular one this week. Without discussing it with each other, a close friend of mine published a post on the Sabbath similar to mine--on the same day as my post, I believe. Being a member of a Reformed church in the Dutch tradition, I am more familiar with the confessions known as the Three Forms of Unity (Heidelberg Catechism, Belgic Confession, Canons of Dort), but my thinking on the Sabbath led me to the Westminster Confession, which has far more specific content on the subject than the Heidelberg.

I especially appreciated paragraph 8 from chapter 21:

This Sabbath is then kept holy unto the Lord when men, after a due preparing of their hearts, and ordering of their common affairs before-hand, do not only observe an holy rest, all the day, from their own works, words, and thoughts about their worldly employments and recreations, but also are taken up, the whole time, in the public and private exercises of His worship, and in the duties of necessity and mercy.

And I love the wording of the Shorter Catechism, Q&A 60, which teaches that the Sabbath is to be "sanctified by a holy resting all that day."

Why I Love Sunday

Safely through another week
God has brought us on our way;
Let us now a blessing seek,
Waiting in His courts today;
Day of all the week the best,
Emblem of eternal rest.

While we pray for pardoning grace,
Through the dear Redeemer's name,
Show Thy reconciled face;
Take away our sin and shame;
From our earthly cares set free,
May we rest this day in Thee.

Here we come Thy Name to praise;
Let us feel Thy presence near;
May Thy glory meet our eyes
While we in Thy house appear;
Here afford us, Lord, a taste
Of our everlasting feast.

May Thy gospel's joyful sound
Conquer sinners, comfort saints;
May the fruits of grace abound,
Bring relief for all complaints;
Thus may all our Sabbaths prove,
Till we join the Church above.

~John Newton

It took some time, maturity, and certainly the sanctifying work of the Holy Spirit, but I can now say, with my whole heart, that Sunday--the Sabbath--is the day of all the week that is the best. It seems that among conservative Reformed Christians discussion of the Sabbath centers on what we may and may not do, and so some people make an issue of whether their families watch TV, change out of their "Sunday clothes," or go to restaurants. Among evangelical Christians, there doesn't seem to be any discussion at all. Christians attend Sunday morning services, which they perceive of as a fairly optional activity, and then the rest of the day is theirs to spend in activities that may or may not be focused on God and worship.

What I've come to learn, though, is to make a list of "can's" and "can'ts" or to ignore duty altogether is to miss the point, and it's also to miss a great blessing. My family's Sunday, with very little exception, looks like this:

*We go to Sunday morning worship, and, during the school year, Jonathan will attend catechism.
*We spend time with our family, either having coffee with Henry's family or lunch with my parents. We have coffee at Henry's mom's house, and we take turns having lunch at our house or at my parents'.
*We come home and read or take naps. I usually read something theologically oriented, like Modern Reformation magazine, Reformed Fellowship's The Outlook, or a book. I just started reading Martin Luther: A Guided Tour of His Life and Thought by Stephen J. Nichols yesterday. I don't think that it's a moral requirement that I or anyone else read only theological works on Sunday. I enjoy reading theology, and reading about it on Sunday helps me keep my focus where it should be.
*We go to afternoon worship.
*We usually come home and have a light supper. Sometimes we invite people over. If we don't have company, Henry and I go for a walk or a bike ride, and then spend the evening reading some more. We often listen to music, or we tune in to the Whitehorse Inn, a Reformed radio program, at 9:00 pm.

Most people would view this as a somewhat boring day. Why would we waste a perfectly good day like this going to two church services and reading books when we could be shopping, eating out, or going to a movie? Our lives must be pretty dull if this is the best day of the week.

But this is where the proper understanding of the Sabbath--as a gift from God--makes all the difference. The Heidelberg Catechism doesn't give us a list of do's and don'ts, but it does explain that God's will for us in the fourth commandment includes the following: regularly attending the assembly of God's people to learn what God's Word teaches; to participate in the sacraments; to pray to God publicly; and to bring Christian offerings for the poor.

And so when we come to understand what Sabbath worship really involves, we understand that God is calling us--inviting us--to meet with Him and with His people. While in the Old Testament the Sabbath was a day that was regulated by do's and don'ts, in the New Testament, it is a day of privilege. We are again given the great blessing of hearing the Word of life proclaimed, of being reminded by word and sign that although we are completely unworthy, God, the creator of heaven and earth, meets with us. He reminds us through His ministers that we are sinners who cannot possibly do anything by ourselves to please Him, to restore the relationship that has been broken. But He also reminds us that now a righteousness from heaven has been revealed, and we need only look to the cross to know that He has provided
life and hope for all those who believe.

We meet together with God's people, with those He has chosen to be members of His body. Unlike earthly organizations, which we join because we choose to, because we have something in common with the other members, God has called us to be living members of His church, so that when we meet together with God on Sunday, we are also meeting with the brothers and sisters that He has chosen for us, those with whom He has made us one.

I like the last part of the catechism answer regarding the Sabbath: "Every day of my life I rest from my evil ways, let the Lord work in me through his Spirit, and begin already in this life the eternal Sabbath." God is giving us a little taste, here on earth, of what our eternal Sabbath will be like.

I know that I've made the mistake in the past of viewing the Sabbath as a burdensome law, not a gift of God's grace. And when I've made that error, indeed, Sunday becomes an annoyance. I've done my duty by attending a service, and having done it, the rest of Sunday becomes what we've come to describe as a "me day." But since I've learned to think "right side up" about the Sabbath, I understand that this day is God's gracious provision for me, a day of rest in which I stop working and focus on Him and His mercy to me. It has become the best day of the week--a day in which I am reminded that I need not work to gain God's favor. In fact, no work of mine could gain His favor. And so I rest from the labors of the week so that I am not distracted from remembering that as God rested after creation, I rest too. I am reminded to come to Christ, who makes our burdens light and gives us rest--now and eternally. And that makes for a more exciting day than any shopping expedition, restaurant experience, or day at the beach could ever give.