People Magazine and Prayer

 So, my dad (Harold Green) passed from this life into eternity in July and our family has made a quirky but rather amazing discovery; Daddy was quoted in People Magazine in 1979.  None of us knew!  Not any big measure of notoriety but still rather amazing!  Did Daddy prefer no one know he was quoted in People or did he not know himself?  We will never be sure.  Although Bob Erler hadn't crossed my mind in well over 30 years, I read the article and instantly remembered the man featured whose life story radically changed when it intersected with the Redeemer. Daddy loved "Erler," as he and the "boys" referred to Bob.  What my daddy loved the most was what God had done in Bob Erler's heart and life ... talk about amazing!  Bob wrote a book and told his story, They Call Me the Catch Me Killer.  Daddy was passionate about that book because he was passionate about stories of redemption.  He gave out copies of Bob's book to hundreds and hundreds of friends and strangers over the years.

As I recall Bob Erler's amazing story, and remember Daddy, a couple of verses in the book of Hebrews just keep running around on the inside of me. The writer of Hebrews, in the beginning verses of chapter 12, talks of Jesus, the AUTHOR and the FINISHER of our faith.  Both pieces of that truth grab my heart, for their implications in my life but particularly now when I'm praying for others.  You see, our church has entered 21 Days of Prayer for Penn State University here in Happy Valley and as I pray, I keep having this overwhelming sense within; to ask the Lord to begin writing individual faith stories in the lives of Penn State students, faculty and personnel; a few by name.  Now "begin" may not be the best word choice here because author God started all faith stories before time began but I think it might just be semantics.  Or maybe the redemption part is where we are to call upon His Presence to reign on those who don't yet know Jesus as Lord; asking the Holy Spirit to cause individual stories to intersect with the story of Jesus.  And thus, the re-writing of a life story begins by author God. Just like when He began the re-write of The Catch Me Killer’s story, and all of the details were redeemed.  You can read a portion of that story in the 1979 issue of People magazine.  Be sure to note the quote by Associate Pastor Harold Green, he was my dad!  Smile.       


http://www.people.com/people/archive/article/0,,20074779,00.html

Living Life Against the Backdrop of Eternity

I've been writing long before there were blogs. Smile. I ran across this journal entry I wrote upon dropping our oldest off at college the first time, 2 years ago ...

My husband Dave and I made our way to our vehicle as quickly as possible in an attempt to save our flood of tears for the confines and privacy of our own car. The moment that had hung over our heart and head for the past nineteen years had become a reality and it was now a thunderous force pounding the truth of our “loss” on our hearts. We knew it was coming, we had heard “rumors” that it was painstakingly hard to say goodbye to our first born and thus, to family life as we had known it for nearly two decades. We had certainly experienced different seasons and many changes along the way of raising our son but this was different, it felt more final and we knew it would close the chapter on a very significant season in our lives as parents.

As we scurried to our car, and left Benjamin behind with ninety-nine other rookie Averett University football players, we willed ourselves to not break down and sob openly. Dave and I both knew that this moment, and the emotions attached to it were inevitable but what caught me unaware was the heartache that threatened to take me hostage for an unpredictable amount of time ... nineteen years of playing, and praying and laughing and training and wondering and hoping with and for our firstborn flashed before my eyes; not to mention that chubby little face and strong-willed spirit that I had grown to adore in our Ben. Somehow the magnitude of that moment caught me off guard. It felt like the enormous reserve of joy from those two decades filled my heart in that one moment and the weight of it, although good felt particularly hard to bear that afternoon. There was gratitude mingled with grief and both just kept pouring down my face in tears I simply couldn’t contain. It wasn’t a desire to keep Ben close, I knew he was ready to spread his wings and fly. It wasn’t even sadness really; I knew this was a good thing. It wasn’t fear as I was convinced that the Faithful One was Ben’s God too, in that moment and beyond. But it was a kind of grief that held a command for me to accept the changes and to embrace this transition in our family life. Letting go of this dear boy that I held close for so long didn’t come easy. In fact, I found it hard to see our Benjamin as the nineteen year old college freshman that he clearly was and impossible to not see him as the little boy we knew running through our home and lives for so many years. It was time to make the shift, to press into the transition and to begin adjusting to the “new normal.” My heart ached in ways I hadn’t expected and I cried harder than I had expected.

I couldn't help but think of another moment that will show up unexpectedly for all of us; just as that long awaited moment of actually leaving our son at college felt like it appeared suddenly. So it will be with our entrance into eternity. Most of us will not have time to prepare or go back and re-do or re-think or change our mind. In the blink of an eye, the rumors of another world will be our reality even though we knew about it, had talked about it and had been “warned” about it. Regardless, it will come suddenly. So, as I stand on the brink of this new season in our family life, I want to be even more prudent in my life to view all things against the backdrop of eternity. Looking beyond today and the right now of my circumstances and see a greater good that the Father is working out to prepare me for eternity. Encouraging my kids that there is much more to live for than the pleasures of this life and there is One worth living for who we will meet face-to-face someday. We know eternity is coming, that moment when the rumors of another world become reality. I want to live intentionally with that “other world” in mind at all times!

Psalm 90:12 “... teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.”

So What’s So Great About Change?

My status on facebook last week was a comment about the weariness I was feeling over the changes in my life in recent days.  A friend commented that change can be good.  She’s right but I wasn’t feeling it.  Not that day.  So, what’s so great about change anyway?  Ask me that now, after a summer of some fairly significant changes in my relationships and I might say, “not one darn thing!”  A little odd for me. I typically love change. Need change. Embrace change.  I’m wired that way. 


But wow, change after change after change has yanked the ankles of my heart in an effort to trip me up emotionally.  So it feels anyway.  Even the selling of our van evoked tears. I know, how crazy is that?  I get that the selling of a vehicle is not something to mourn but I guess an emotional attachment developed between the van and I over the years when it transported so many kids to so many activities on so many occasions.  It seems that in some strange way our van takes with it the tale of our two boys growing up. It took them and picked them up from school. Andy shut his finger in its sliding door. Both boys learned to drive in it.  Ben drove it into the neighbor’s yard the day he got his permit ... on accident and in reverse!  That van safely carried our family to and from assorted vacations.  When we tried to sell it the first time, Andy’s 15 year old buddies protested saying, “Mrs. J. you just can’t let Mr. Jameson sell the van!  Not the Jameson mobile!”  We honored their request and kept it about two years longer than we should have.  Smile. The seemingly sentimental attachment caught me off guard.


So much change!  The one thing in life you can count on is that you can’t count on things staying the same.  Very little does.  Not forever.  Even when relationships are stable and marked by loyalty, things change.  Health, bodies, youth, relationships, finances, responsibilities, seasons, family dynamics and on and on it goes. Change can be good. My friend was right. I get it.  Change can offer moments of serendipity (desirable discoveries by accident).  Change can call out the best in someone and can bring people together. On the other hand, change can be debilitating.  It can offer disappointment and ignite grief, bring out the worst in someone and can tear people apart. Change can feel like a noose around the neck, threatening at any moment to choke the life out of someone or something.


The prophet Malachi may have been a personality that resisted change.  Some people are wired that way, unlike me. At least typically.  I have to wonder if Malachi resisted change, or at least felt its threat.  He wrote in chapter 3, verse 6, “I the Lord do not change therefore, you, O Sherilyn are not consumed.”  (I always put my name in the place of “the descendants of Jacob" because I am!) The Hebrew word for “consumed” (some Bible versions say “destroyed”) means to be overwhelmed.  That’s what makes change so unbearable.  At least at first .... change makes us feel overwhelmed. By the unknown and the unfamiliar .... and both make us feel uncomfortable.  Out-of-control. Unsettled.  But Malachi offers a big sigh of relief.  God doesn’t change.  He is the same yesterday, today and forever (sigh) ... when all else is changing, we can count on one who does not.  Change does not have to overwhelm us. Make us uncomfortable, feel out-of-control or unsettled. That is something that is so good about change. And about God.

What If Jesus Meant All That Stuff? by Shane Claiborne

Shane Claiborne wrote a letter to all who are not Christ followers.  It's an apology.  It's dead on.  It's worth reading.

http://www.esquire.com/features/best-and-brightest-2009/shane-claiborne-1209 

The Untamed Jesus and the Heart of a Parent

Andy and Ben's Football Banquet 2008

Our pastor, Dan Nold, refers to Jesus as being untamed. The kind of man who is perhaps a bit less concerned about our comfort and a lot more concerned about our character.  Dan reminds us that Jesus might even make some people uncomfortable, maybe even me.  You see, Dan believes that Jesus would be radical in his passion and courageous in his convictions.  Undomesticated and wild and thus, Dan often refers to the Son of God as the Untamed Jesus.
 
Mark 12:41-44
"Sitting across from the offering box, Jesus was observing how the crowd tossed money in for the collection. Many of the rich were making large contributions. One poor widow came up and put in two small coins—a measly two cents. Jesus called his disciples over and said, "The truth is that this poor widow gave more to the collection than all the others put together. All the others gave what they'll never miss; she gave extravagantly what she couldn't afford—she gave her all."

Although I’ve said goodbye to loved ones here on earth, I’ve never been a widow. I’ve weathered seasons when I thought the bills might go beyond the paycheck but I’ve never really been poor.  Not like the widow who caught the attention of Jesus in Mark 12.  I’m certain God could never “accuse” me of the generosity of heart this widow displayed. I have yet to give my all.  At first glance, it’s easy to conclude that what grabbed the heart of Jesus in this account was the widow’s willingness to give money even in her poverty.  However, I have to wonder if it was her expression of trust in Him that caused Jesus to take notice and thus, gave her the courage give her all?  She was extravagant in trusting God before she was extravagant in giving, keeping nothing for herself.  The Untamed Jesus presses us to risk giving that which we are tempted to keep for ourselves, that which we might miss if we gave. He presses us toward radical live-it-out-in-your-life kind of faith versus go-to-church-on-Sunday-morning kind of faith.  Safe faith. This same Untamed Jesus marks the heart of a Christ following parent with the same kind of radical risk and asks, “When others only go so far in their parenting, will you give up all rights and desires for your child and trust him/her to Me?” 

As a parent, I struggled with this risky question this summer when my Dad died rather suddenly after a very short, month-long bout with pancreatic cancer. Loss can make us want to hold those we love closer than ever before and, so it was with me.  In saying goodbye to Daddy on earth, the temptation to pull my children close; in proximity and in heart felt overwhelming.  As I struggled through this reality in my inner-being, the Holy Spirit began to bind up some old wounds with the healing salve of His Word.  I heard his whisper in my heart, “you have your eyes and attention on the wrong thing.”  The truth of Hebrews 12:1,2 began to set my heart free by asking me to give instead of keep for myself, not monetarily but relationally.  I heard the soothing yet challenging words, “Sherilyn, fix your eyes on Jesus, the Author and Perfector (finisher) of not only your faith but of Ben’s faith and of Andy’s faith.”  I was reminded that the Untamed Jesus is writing my children’s story, I am not. (Absurd thought I know; such an over exaggeration of my own importance. Sigh.) God asked me to trust Him and once again give Him my most prized possession; my children. It felt like it would have been easier to write a big, fat check than to let go of my boys even more and trust them to God, letting Him put in and take out of their lives what He deems best in order to write their story and leave His mark on their heart and life.

So, as Ben hopped in his little Honda that was packed to the rafters, and headed back to Bethel to set-up his first apartment and start football camp, I offered him to the Lord; desiring to give extravagantly what I thought I couldn’t afford to give up, the writing of my son’s story by the Untamed Jesus.  And then a week later as his brother, Andy rushed from his freshman dorm room at Eastern University to join his new friends for dinner, I watched him hustle across the lush college campus he will now call home, and I offered him to the Lord as well; prayerfully giving with extravagance what I thought I couldn’t afford to give up, the writing of my son’s story by Jesus, the Untamed and Faithful One.  Neither was a first for me.  I have offered my children and their personal situations to the Lord over and over again for the last 21 years finding that each time more courage was deposited into my parent-heart to trust the Untamed Jesus more fully until I was able to give my all. 

Sipping from the Wrong Cup

“Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love, that we may sing for joy and be glad all of our days.” Psalm 90:14

Running late, I slid into the booth at The Waffle Shop to meet a friend running even later than I. When she arrived, I admired her new hairstyle and she noticed my “cute” summer jacket. No sooner had we ordered and my pancakes and her number three special were being served. (You gotta’ love our local Waffle Shop!) Typically, when I order blueberry pancakes, the wait staff brings my requested heated syrup in a clear glass container with a spout for ease of pouring it on my half stack. This morning was not typical. My hot syrup arrived in a coffee cup, odd but hey, it was hot and that's essential for me to enjoy my breakfast, odd but true. The “syrup cup” was identical to the one from which I was already sipping my morning coffee. . Engrossed in conversation, somehow I hardly noticed.  It wasn’t long before I inadvertently picked up a cup and mindlessly took a gulp of … you guessed it …hot maple syrup! I coughed and gagged and immediately spewed a mouthful of syrup into an empty juice glass followed by a violent scrubbing of my tongue with a Waffle Shop napkin as I desperately tried to rid my taste buds of the sickening sweetness that lingered. I lost my appetite. Even my desire for the good coffee that remained in the other cup had vanished. Actually, I was done eating all together at that point, leaving half of my half stack to waste. Too much sweet is just too much.

Sadly, I have to admit to experiencing far too many moments like that at the table of life. Inadvertently, and mindlessly I take a gulp out of the wrong cup. Oh, usually not at The Waffle Shop, of course but at the retail counter, the refrigerator, the office … believing a lie that my next purchase, the food I crave, working longer or harder and many other substitutes for “real life,” will satisfy the longing in my soul. Somehow it always proves me wrong. The promise of those things doesn’t deliver. They prove more often that although there is nothing wrong with purchasing something new, eating something I enjoy or working more, none of them shake out to be the real deal, as they say. And it seems that they never offer soul satisfaction but more often than not leave me feeling more unsatisfied than before I sipped from their cup. King David drank from the wrong cup a time or two and in his error, he actually discovered that there a cup in which satisfaction could be had. God’s unfailing love. Love that offers to satisfy in the morning, as we face our day ... the best time for sipping a fresh brewed cup of life.

God's Got My Number

Andy on the Lacrosse Field 2010

Our family has a great love and respect for the number 21. It was the number of the late Pirate’s outfielder, Roberto Clemente; one of my husband’s heroes. Therefore, our boys, Ben and Andy, have often tried over the years to get that jersey number when they can. Sometimes successful, other times not. Over the years, I have grown to cherish #21 myself as I would wash the jersey bearing it or as I kept my eyes on the player wearing it.  Whatever number my son's jersey bore, I grew fond of.  The details of our lives have changed and with our boys in college, I no longer launder their jerseys.  A Bethel Football Equipment Manager washes Ben’s and an Eastern Lacrosse Manager washes Andy’s. Smile. I’ll be the first to admit that it’s not the number that makes my heart swell when I see it; it’s the kid wearing the number. And yet … at nearly every game, from the moment players come onto the field until only their backs can be seen returning to the locker room, I would have my eyes fixed on that jersey. My boy could be in the huddle, doing pre-game warm-ups, standing on the sidelines, in the action of play or giving a high-five to a team mate and my eyes would be fixed on their jersey. It made little difference to me what #21 was doing; I could pick my boy out of the crowd of players in a moment’s notice.

Even from the bleachers, I was often able to sense when #21 was dying to be called up for a play on the field. I could almost feel the knot in his stomach over the threat of defeat or the glorious tension on his broad smile after a victory. As a mother I not only “see” #21 on the field, I know all about #21. I am acquainted with the way of his heart. What brings him great joy and what causes him great frustration. I know about the days that go well for him and the days when life is cruel. I know his amazing giftedness and abilities as well as his bad habits. I know what makes him love life and what kills the joy within him. I know the kid in the jersey wearing #21, and I know him intimately. Even when #21 appears more like a miniature action figure in a sea of players on the sidelines, my heart is knit together with his by love and experiences and the blood running through our veins.

Athletics has afforded me a few “aha” moments and one of the most significant ones that ever grabbed my heart happened when my boys were high school student athletes.  I began to be aware of my tendency to watch Ben and Andy more than I watched their game. Psalm 139 helped me see that in like manner, God knows me intimately and has His attention constantly on me. He knows when I sit or stand and what I am going to say before I even say it. He understands my thoughts and His thoughts are ever on me. God is far more interested in ME than in the game of life that I find myself playing. He knows my heart. The wounds. The sin. The longings. He knows when I’m on the “sideline” of life and how much I long to be back “on top of my game.” He knows me from afar and up close. My heart is knit together with His by love and experiences and by the blood of His One and only begotten Son. His eyes are fixed on me even when I have no idea He’s watching.

You see, Ben and Andy will NEVER fully know the joy or the pride I feel each time I “watch” them, no matter what they might be doing, or not doing in their football or lacrosse game. I, on the other hand, will never be able to forget the pleasure I have in just knowing and loving them! God, our Heavenly Father loves me far beyond human comprehension. He is intimately acquainted with me and His eyes are fixed hard upon me every moment of every day … and then some. God’s got my number and He can hardly think of anything else.  As the mother of student athletes, I totally get that.

“You (God) are intimately acquainted with all of my ways.” Psalm 139:3a

The Hope of the Orphan

During a layover in the San Francisco airport a few years ago, I had the pleasure of meeting 7 year old Anna, 3 year old Lela and their “papa” as they waited for the same delayed flight I did. The threesome struck me immediately as they appeared to be of humble means with each girl carrying a very small homemade day pack that seemed to contain a floor puzzle, crayons, index cards and a small, much loved stuff animal. Papa himself was toting a very small backpack and a violin case. When it was obvious that we would be detained and the girls were hungry, the threesome shared a small loaf of bread, plain and a juice bottle.

Beyond their humble means, the kind and gentle ways of this likely single dad grabbed the attention of my heart and I gleaned much as I observed the interaction of this threesome. His attention upon his daughters was uninterruptible. Squabbling was met with papa’s gentle voice that seemed to dissipate disagreements and usher in harmony. When Anna and Lela would raise their voice even an octave, papa would simply put his index finger to his lips and they obviously knew what that meant as they would quiet down immediately. As the hours wore on and we waited for the departure of our flight Anna and Lela’s whining or teary complaints would be comforted by papa lifting them onto his lap to whisper into their ear or gently rub their back, absolutely attentive to their every need. Lela seemed to have more of a propensity toward being naughty as she stepped on the puzzle pieces, grabbed her sister’s beloved stuffed doggie or the like. Immediately papa’s gentle voice would utter her name,” Lela,” nothing more, nothing less. The way papa said Lela, or maybe it was the look in papa’s eye, would signal Lela to change her behavior.

Papa watched Anna and Lela play and contentment was evident in his eyes, seemingly happy to be interrupted by their voice or their needs ... such a kind and gentle attentiveness to his children. When they became restless, he distracted them. He would meet their continual questioning about the status of the flight with patient and repetitive explanations. It was an amazing moment to me when Anna finished the floor puzzle and complained that 3 pieces were missing; papa told her to remember that those pieces were missing permanently. She appeared completely satisfied with his response. Lela, at a very restless moment, proceeded to dump her crayons one at time off her chair while Papa looked on ... there was NO evidence of disappointment, anger or frustration but patient satisfaction with his tired 3 year old. Anna and Lela had obviously spent many hours in the presence of their papa and the intimacy of communication was obvious.

The most telling moment of the afternoon was when Papa left to use the restroom. He gave Anna and Lela instructions on staying put and when he “took his presence away”; it was incredible to watch the scenario before me change in an instant. The sisters became loud and excessively silly and before papa could return, Lela had taken Anna’s beloved doggie. Anna reacted by smacking her sister in the head. The “sister war” accelerated until papa turned the corner and approached our gate as both girls had a death grip on each others hair and were wildly screaming.

Papa briskly approached and quietly but firmly pulled the girls apart as he carefully held each arm to separate them. He got down on eye level with them and spoke in hushed tones with his eyes intently on theirs. Within moments, as his presence returned to them, so did their joy and contentment. Soon Anna and Lela had their stuff packed up and each lay on either side of papa – satisfied in HIS PRESENCE and care. In the final moments before we boarded our flight, the girls tried many things to please/bless their papa; rubbing his neck and shoulders, tying and retying his shoes, kissing and hugging him and on the flood of affection went. The longer I observed this endearing threesome, the harder time I had containing a smile from my face as I recognized the reality of being God’s kids and as long as He is there, we are in His care.”

We are ever in the constant care of our loving and attentive heavenly Father whether we have an earthly papa or not. That’s the hope of the orphan; to have a Father in heaven that cares about them! We are all orphans in some sense as we are all deficient of father love to some degree. And for the true orphan, the child alive without a father or mother to care for them, this is their hope too. A Father in heaven that cares about them! They will only know this hope if we show them that we care about them. As Christ followers we must be the hands and feet and heart of the Father to the orphans.