TIM E HOLDER

I got a note this week from a friend of mine that I don’t get to talk to all that often.

Part of what she wrote was, “Hey there! You are someone that has always inspired me with your relationship with God. I can admit that I yearn for that. As my life gets more chaotic, I feel doubt creeping into my heart. Not doubt that God exists, but doubt He is involved in our everyday life. Doubt that He has a master plan for me. I seem to feel there is a person within me that God wants me to be, and the choices I make can help lead me to be that person. We were given free will so we could choose God, and choose to be that person He wants us to be. I end up asking a lot of questions that I could never get answers too. Questions of his motives. Questions  that have probably been asked since the beginning. Is there any advice you could provide to help me find peace with this doubt? I still feel God’s profound love within me. But sometimes I get so down on myself I cannot find it. Any prayers or advice you could give would be most appreciated.”

I wrote back, Well, Jessie, first of all, let me tell you that I think about you and how we used to sit down in the catacombs of Doubletree and how much I loved taking care of the pooches with you, even if the most common chore was cleaning kennels. And never does a holiday go by when I don’t think of you as I prepare Pumpkin Swirl Cheesecake. Still a family tradition.

But, believe it or not, my best memory of you is Prissy. Remember her? The little 5 year old Boston Terrior we rescued who was horribly abused and sustained a broken leg that Dr. Peck tried valiantly to mend. We never could get it to heal and finally amputated her leg. I wanted to change her name to Tripod. But, we all still called her Prissy. I remember her eyes and nose with an angry infection and so we cleaned her up and put meds in those wounds several times a day. I took her home, basically because I held her pretty much the whole time I was at work carrying that precious girl everywhere.  for 2 years, I was privileged to love on her, feeling her, letting her curl up with me at night. She finally felt safe. There was an old sweater of mine she decided was hers and carried with her like Linus’s blanket.

And I remember the day, after all that work and love, when I found the bump on her head, and after X-rays, we learned she would not be with us much longer because of bone cancer. She made it another 6 months or so and I came home one night to find her gone, curled up on my old sweater. I remember bringing her to the clinic the next morning, tears flowing as I laid her on the exam table, wrapped in her sweater, and questioning why God would allow her to endure so much suffering, only to die, just when she knew she was loved and safe and could feel secure enough to trust. My heart was broken. She was nothing but a pile of love.

But, my most vivid memory of that day is walking downstairs to take care of other dogs. You were already there, and when I told you Prissy was gone, you wrapped your arms around me and whispered, “Nobody could have loved Prissy the way you did.”

Jessie, that was all I needed to move through the pain of losing that sweet dog whose care was entrusted to me. When I read your note yesterday, of course, I remembered that sweet moment. And I still don’t think of it without misting up.

I don’t know that I have a “one size fits all” answer to the question of doubt. We all have differing life experiences and come at and move toward our relationship with God from so many distinct train stations. I can tell you how I think it works for me, though. Maybe it will help some.

I have always believed in God. Always. There’s never been a doubt in my mind that He is the Creator of the Universe, that He did everything He said He did, that Jesus is His son and did everything He said He did, that He is all powerful, and that He is watching me.

But,  possibly/probably because I correlated my relationship with my Heavenly Father with that of my earthly father, I was programmed to not trust God. That was the big subconscious question. Is He reliable? Is He honest? If He is, why do I not feel like He’s effective in my life?

I felt guilty for my futile attempt to find fault with Him because I couldn’t trust his motives. My head knew that He was never too good to be true.  My strongest desire was that I wanted my heart to follow.

I finally figured out that I was waiting for Him to prove He is trustworthy, when in fact, everything about life screams it. I decided that if He is trustworthy, I needed to stop trying to understand it on my own, stop trying to control my definition of who He is supposed to be, let Him know that I will believe, and PRACTICE trust, even when it seems counter to everything I think I need or want. It’s not always a feel good moment, since many of those are, at best, superficial satisfaction. It’s a habit. I wake up every day and tell Him that I will choose to trust Him today.

I purposefully memorize bible verses that call for trust. And let me tell you, having a scripture or two close by has made all the difference. A couple of my favorites are Joshua 1:9 “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”  What I love about this verse is that He doesn’t ask or plead with us to not be afraid. He commands it. It’s not a request, it’s a proclamation, an imperative that demands trust. And trust is not something that comes natural to us in a culture that tells us to not trust anyone or anything.

Again, it’s a habit. And while God builds trust, I spend an abundance of time asking for patience while He perfects it in me. Trust me, I find myself affirming my belief in His absolute good motives for my life on a daily basis. I trust His plan because I trust His love. I trust His love because I choose to give up control of my desires and what I think I need, even my dreams.

Nothing in our society would teach us that this makes sense, or is even appropriate.  Everything about my relationship is based on the idea that God is, in fact, the only trustworthy being in all of existence. Every person, every government, every idea, even every religion, will, in some way disappoint. Only belief in the One, true, honest, powerful God is worthy of our trust.

I read a book a long time ago with one chapter titled, The adequacy of God. Again, my culture would see that word and define it as “just okay” or ” barely up to par.” But, when I looked it up, I realized my definition of God needed to be more adequate. “As much or as good for some requirement or purpose; fully sufficient, suitable or fit.”  For me, my trust in him, the HABIT of trusting Him is “adequate.” He is fully sufficient.

His trustworthiness is appropriate as is His desire to be found trustworthy is appropriate. I find ways every day to tell him that I will choose to give up my control and trust Him. When I drive to work, I tell Him that “Today, I will trust You.”  When I have to make hard decisions, I seek out community and yes, trust, because I know where and from Whom they build their trust. Every time I tithe, I pray, “I trust You.”  When I catch myself trying to control my dreams and wants, I sit back, take a deep breath and say, “I’m sorry. You take control. I trust you.” I wish I could tell you I have this down to a fine art. But, I fall. And then I get up and give it up again. And the amazing thing is that I find, more and more, that the reason I desire to trust Him more, is because I desire relationship with Him more.

You don’t develop trust with God and come out unscathed. I can’t take time to think about how I feel or my circumstances. I have to focus on His character, His motives. I don’t ignore my pain or confusion. I just remember that He is adequate. He fits my environment. In that moment and in that experience He is good. And I find it is easier to give Him control, because I can give Him the glory. And I find great joy in that.

His motives for you are not just loving and right and wise. They are pure. This is another of my favorite verses. “What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him, graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died – more than that, who was raised – who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?…No, in all these things, we are more than conquers through Him who loved us.” Romans 8:31-37

As hard as it may seem in the midst of the struggle, everything God does is wise and loving.  God is for you, Jessie. Don’t try to trust Him because it’s the right thing to do. Trust Him because He’s God. Trust Him because He loves you.

Don’t trust Him expecting to understand His plan. Just trust that He has one. Trust that He is working it out with your best interest foremost in his mind. And believe that more often than not, it will be unveiled in a mind-blowing, ridiculously breathtaking, astonishing way that you never expected. But, you will nod with the satisfaction of knowing it was perfect for you; the only way it could happen that will instill a gentle trust, that leads to a deeper love and relationship with Him. He’s good. He’s so good. He longs for you to know it and fully live it.

One last verse and I’ll leave you alone. This is one of my top five verses. It’s Zephaniah 3:17. “The LORD your God is with you, the mighty warrior who saves. He will take great delight in you, in his love he will no longer rebuke you, but will rejoice over you with singing.” You can trust Him, Jessie, because He takes great delight in you , he doesn’t yell at you. He believes in you. He is intimately interested in you and has GREAT plans for you, even if you don’t easily see them now. You said there is a person in you that you think God wants you to be and your choices will help determine who that person is supposed to be. Jessie, you are already that person. He used his great imagination to make you unique from any other person who has ever lived. The only thing you need to do is, and here’s the simple answer, live your life in relationship with Him. Practice trust. PRACTICE TRUST!!! And listen for the song. He has one for you, you know. Your very own song, sung by the One who breathes out stars into His ever expanding universe. I have no scriptural reference, but I’m fairly certain my tune is a hybrid of Dan Fogleberg, Donna Simmer, Earth, Wind, and Fire, with just a sous son of Barry Manilow.

That same God is singing your very own song over you right now. When that truth becomes more than a fleeting idea, you will walk without shame, or fear, doubt or mistrust. Your days will be cool, God will be your friend, and you will experience a bit of heaven right here on earth. The most precious discovery will be that it was never about you..it was all for his glory. He is rejoicing over you. If that alone is not worthy of our trust, I don’t know what is. Feel Him wrap his strong arms and nail scarred hands around you.  “Nobody could have loved you the way he did.”

Back in the summer of 1975, I was on a college mission trip to East Brunswick, New Jersey where we held vacation bible schools for the local children. There were 8 college students on our team and we spent the entire summer living in the preacher’s home, where the garage doubled as the church auditorium.

Close to the end of our trip, the leader of the team gave us a ‘surprise’ exercise during one of our devotionals. He wanted us to make lists of all the good qualities we perceived in the character of each  of the team. Or what we saw as God-given strengthens and gifts in each other. I have processed through that experience over the years and have never forgotten the impact it made on me. I don’t remember the comments I made about the other members of the team, or even the comments made about me. What I do remember is the fear that the leader of the team would call my name and there would be total silence from the affirmation builders. That everyone would glance toward each other out of the corner of their eyes, praying someone was able to come up with a positive character aspect to pin on me. Or that in trying to be benevolent, they would use trite, obviously impossible attributes to pacify me, like, “I fully believe you will be President of the United States one day.” Or, “I will be shocked if you don’t win hundreds of Academy Awards in your lifetime.” And that everyone else would nod their heads just a little to briskly and affirm just a little to loudly the truth behind the statement. Or, not able to find any good qualities, they would take this opportunity to point out all my idiosyncrasies and character defects and give me pointers on how I might fare better the next time I’m a participant in a similar exercise. But, then,

I remember every single person’s expression as we went around the room and admired each other. As we verbally appreciated each other. I remember expressions on people’s faces, most of
them, I’m sure, reflecting the same fears and apprehension I experienced just before my name was called.

But, as the exercise continued, a completely different spirit filled the room   Tears fell from every eye  as a humble holiness enveloped that small living room. A cherished gift was given to every person there, as though we were pinning a value tag on each heart that read, “priceless.”

James 3:17 and 18 says, “Real wisdom, God’s wisdom, begins with a holy life and is characterized by getting along with others. It is gentle and reasonable, overflowing with mercy and blessings, not hot one day and cold the next, not two-faced. You can develop a healthy, robust community that lives right with God and enjoy its results only if you do the hard work of getting along with each other, treating each other with dignity and honor.”

It wasn’t uncommon for God to be a name caller. Saul’s name was changed to Paul which means “Humble.” Peter, of course, became the  “stone” on which the Lord built His church. Moses meant “drew out.” One of my favorite characters from the Bible’s name was changed from Mirab-Baal to Mephibosheth, which meant “exterminator of shame.”  Eunice, the mother of Timothy, and my mom’s name, means “good victory.”  So obviously, what these people were called, even their given names, meant something…and it often described to outsiders, what this person’s character was like, or was, at least meant to be when they were first named by their parents. It helped define them to those just meeting them. And, as was often the case, their names may have been changed later on to fit their new identity.

One day,  we will all be given a new name. Revelation 2:17 says, “Are your ears awake? Listen, Listen to the Wind Words, the Spirit blowing through the churches. I’ll give the sacred manna to every conqueror; I’ll also give a clear, smooth stone inscribed with your new name, your secret new name.”

I remember names that I was called when I was growing up that weren’t particularly good. In fact, I remember more of those names than the ones I should have been called. But, even back then, there was a stone already hewn, hidden in the heart of God that has my real name, the name He has specifically designed me to have written on it. And it describes me perfectly. And one day, when I see it, when He hands it to me, I will finally realize all He planned for me to do and be. And I will exclaim, “Of course that was my name.”

I don’t think it was a typo, in James 3, when James said, “Do the HARD WORK, of getting along.” It isn’t easy, all the time, to find the best in another fallen, sinful human being. But, believe it or not, it’s there. And we are called to honor each other with the dignity only we can give.

I remember that night in 1975.  I remember the honor I felt, not only in receiving the words of affirmation from my friends, people that I respected, but the tears that fell as my heart swelled with the knowledge that I was speaking streams of life into a parched heart. There was a distinct reverence in the confidence that some, just like me, were hearing, maybe for the first time, that they were valued for their gifts…that what they offered was crucial and far-reaching for the
kingdom of God. That they were so very important. It was just as much a gift for the giver of these consequential words as it was for the recipient.

I have been involved in many step studies with Celebrate Recovery over the past 18 years. As a matter of fact, I’m in the middle of my 28th step study at a correctional unit. There are two questions in one of the participant guides that have always amazed me. They amaze me because, to a study, the results are always the same. One question asks, “Name some of the negative things you’ve done in your life.”  The other, “Name some of the positive  things you’ve done in your life.” It is no longer surprising to me that the answers to the first question could fill a book. On every participants response. On the other hand, when answering the question, “Name the positive things you’ve done,” the responses are surprisingly short. Even to the point of some participants leaving the space blank.

Every step-study, I make the point to the men  that “positive” does not necessarily mean all the altruistic, magnanimous moments that make us look better than we know we really are. What if listing positive things means sitting quietly on a beach and listening to God while we watch the moon? I’ve laughed, a lot. I’ve seen the dirt floored hovel where my Dad was born.I’ve come inches away from being sucked down a spouting hole on the island of Kauai. I’ve rescued a puppy stuck in melted tar in a pipe under a dirty country road on a steaming summer day. I’ve given many, many hugs.  I’ve been given many, many hugs. I’ve cooked great meals for friends. I’ve read the Bible all the way through.  I’ve learned to listen to hurting, breaking hearts, even when I was too tired to keep my eyes open. I’ve forgiven. I’ve been forgiven. I have loved Jesus, better and better over the years, never perfectly, but covered by boundless grace. I’ve studied
about what my future home will be like.  I’ve shared with a dying friend about what our future home will be like. I’ve gone to the manager of Kroger and told him how amazing the deli chef is. I’ve tipped more than the server deserved. I’ve praised the Lord, watching the sunrise. I’ve wept, watching his majesty in a sunset, wondering who else besides God could put orange and turquoise together and make it look good…besides Howard Johnson’s.

The guys always sit in silence after I read what I believe are positive moments. It never crossed their minds that being happy is a positive. That sometimes, just being present is enough.

What are we listening to about ourselves?  Do we hear the names we heard as a child so often that we believed them to be true. Do we still call ourselves those names today? Do we hear the names, “failure,” “worthless,” “ugly,” “stupid,” in our hearts when we turn out the lights to sleep? Do we run through all the wrong, embarrassing, irresponsible things we did that day? Is our life inventory filled with only the negative things we did that day? Or do we dwell on the names we were called? Or even the ones we gave ourselves?  If we are really honest, do we truly believe those names are the ones that the Creator of the Universe, the One who uniquely made us wants us to hear and believe?

Or do we hear HIS names? I think we all intellectually know that real truth is only found in God’s word.  I defy anyone to show me a scripture where God said we are a mistake. So, why is it so easy to believe the negative things about us, the things our culture believe are so important, over the truth revealed to us in Gods word?

I’m guessing it’s because we are so inundated with what’s expected of us through media and what we are taught by the world is supposed to be valuable that we allow those things to, over time, through constant religion, extinguish the truth.  So much so that we begin to believe the lie of the enemy that we have no value.

I’m choosing as of late, to begin my day with His truth about me. Truth that says, I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Or Deuteronomy 7:6 that I am His treasured possession. Or Psalm 17, I am the apple of His eye.

He has called us names alright.  Chosen, blessed, sons and daughters, Saint, His.  Heir. Not condemned, accepted, victorious, a new creature, set free, redeemed and forgiven and given access to the very throne room of God, I am light in the Lord, I am a citizen of heaven, I am complete in Christ, I am hidden with Christ in God, I will be revealed with Him in glory, I have been chosen by God and He has made me holy and beloved, He has supplied all my needs.

I am NOT defined by who I am, but Whose I am. We are usually called something after we’ve done it. But God calls us before we do it. Just like he did with men and women of the bible. The world may see us as creative, or smart, or annoying. But, God sees us as world changer, radical leader, peace maker.

Listen carefully. Tonight, as you go through the events of your day, taking responsibility for what you need to take responsibility for and letting go of things you were not responsible for, as you begin to drift to sleep, if you hear any voice other than, “You are mine, and you are
breathtaking,” you are NOT listening to Jesus, and what He says about you. You’re not listening to the One who holds together all of creation, and is more intimately interested in the very next breath you take.  The Lord may give you a name himself. In fact, I know He will. But, he may also ask you to be the life giver of a name for someone else. It is hard work. But, it just might change the course of someone else’s life, including yours.

Okay, so I think I’ve gotten past the “embarrassed to the point of total mortification” stage to talk about it now.

A few weeks ago, on a normal, uneventful Sunday morning, I was standing in the choir room at 8:20, getting ready to go on stage to worship. All of us choir members normally gather upstairs in the choir room by 8:15 to run through the choir song, and then just hang until we single file it downstairs and on to the stage.

Coffee decided to set in.

I knew there were about 10 minutes to spare so I dashed to the “men’s room.” I knew this would have to be a quick trip, no reading the newspaper. So I raced into the stall. And, as is my normal discipline, I flushed the toilet, just to make sure all was well with the plumbing. On this particular occasion, I did notice there was CLEAN toilet paper in the bowl. Unfortunately, I was already prepared to sit.

For some unexplainable, unforseeable reason, the commode exploded. Water went everywhere. Like in a nano second. I was apparently in shock. I just stood there waiting for the tide to ebb back out to sea… Or maybe waiting for Moaning Myrtle to come screaming from the depths of the Chamber of Secrets. Nonetheless, it was a few seconds before I realized water was all over the floor, swirling around my dropped khaki’s and out the door.

When I finally became conscious, I grabbed my pants up. I grabbed them up so fast in fact, both my wallet and iPhone, both nestled snuggly in my back pockets, popped out and into the small creek forming in the men’s room. I wasn’t sure what to grab first, my pants or my wallet/phone combo. I was in The Matrix. The blue pill or the red pill? I grabbed the combo. They were both soaked. I laid them to the side and then grabbed my pants up. They, too, were soaked. But just the back of them was soaked. The front of my pants was resting comfortably on my wet shoes.

I knew it was only a couple of seconds before I was supposed to be on stage. I couldn’t see how bad the “wet” was since most of it was on the back of my pants. I ran into the now empty choir room and threw the combo into my music locker. I ran down the stairs, on to the risers, and deliberately stood on the back row so no one could see me from behind. I sang with all the gusto I could muster as I enjoyed the feeling of toilet water running down my legs and pooling onto the riser at my feet. For approximately 20…25 minutes.

Of course, the worship time would soon come to an end and the choir would be climbing back up the stairs to the choir room. Being on he back row, I would be climbing the stairs in front of everyone else. You have no idea how difficult it is to climb up 14 steps, backwards, with 40 people watching me make a complete dipstick of myself. Or removing all doubt from their previously undecided minds. Anissa Hodges was right behind me, or in front of me, whatever your point of view. She just looked at me and I said, “The commode exploded…NOT MY DEBRIS…pants were on the floor. They’re soaked in the back.”

By this time we were at the choir room so I turned around and continued my journey. And then Anissa said, “Oh…that’s why there’s toilet paper on the back of your pants.” I just KNEW she was joking. “STOP IT!!! That’s not even close to funny.” I could feel the red rising from my forehead to the back of my neck as she said, “Well, not exactly toilet paper. More like toilet paper beadlets.” “You have GOT to be kidding me.” Her husband Mark was right behind her and he said, “Um…no…there really is. Come on.” Mark ushered me, immediately, into the bathroom and grabbed some paper towels and courageously, dauntlessly proved what a true friend looks like. He began swatting my butt with paper towels. Suddenly, a tenor walked into the bathroom and froze, mid-stride, and just stared. Mark, not missing a beat said, “Somebody has to do it.” When he was convinced there were no more ‘beadlets,’ we went back into the choir room. I grabbed the combo out of my music locker and began wiping them down. I was trying, unsuccessfully, to get the cover off the phone, when Anissa said, “Did your phone get wet?” I said yes. She grabbed it out of my hand, since I was obviously a total dolt at getting the Otter Box off of it. Before Mark could even get “She can take anything apart,” out of his mouth, Anissa took it completely apart. Totally…in less than 5 seconds. It was amazing. I took it back and was trying to figure out how it all fit back together when Anissa said, “DON’T PUT IT BACK TOGETHER.” That’s exactly what I was trying to do. She made sure I was to get home and put it in rice overnight and not even try to use it till it was buried in rice overnight. I assured her that was exACTly what I would do.

At that point, I decided I should go check on the throne room and see if I needed to mop up any water that may have missed the drain in the floor that was obviously not draining and in need of as much repair as the offending depository. And, as is just my good fortune, I walked into the men’s room to find Pastor David Richards, our beloved choir director, grabbing paper towels out of the dispenser by the hands full and throwing them in pools of water all over the immediate area. He briefly glanced at me and continued his exercise as he said, “I’m afraid someone will slip and break something.” I lowered my head in shame and not a little mental discomfort and said, “I think, well, actually, I’m pretty positive I caused this.” He paused and shot his eyes in my direction for the slightest moment, just long enough to mutter, “Why am I not surprised?”

I’m sure, if we’re honest, we’ve all experienced a few of our own epic failures. Whether they are from mistakes of our choosing, or from bad choices made by others, and whether or not they are going to eventually be a moment in time that can be remembered with laughter through embarrassment, or heartache and grief, we all have, and will experience them.

I began my 28th CR Step Study last Monday night at the Wrightsville Correctional Unit. Twenty men sat around me as I explained the program and the guidelines and how the meetings would take place every week. Close to the end of the meeting, just before we stand with arms shoulder to shoulder and say The Lord’s Prayer together, one of the guys said, “What a refreshing change to get to come to a place and not be afraid to just be myself.”

At the beginning of every study, I say pretty much the same thing to the guys. And before I begin, I silently ask the Holy Spirit to stand guard around that room. And every time, I feel a sense of protection around the room, a vacuum. It’s a wall, impenetrable, that the enemy can not get through.

“Guys, this space, every Monday night will be a safe place. We will make it safe. I know where you are as much as you do. And I know that you are put in a position that screams ‘failure.’ But, I’m here to tell you, it doesn’t matter why. You’re here. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past. The Creator Of The Universe, the One True God, has a plan for you. He’s prepared you for extraordinary things. You’ve made mistakes, sure. But, we all have.

Look at Peter. He walked with Jesus. He watched Jesus turn water to wine, heal blind people, make cripples walk, forgive the unforgivable. He heard words and saw actions proclaiming forgiveness. He saw all these things. And then, with just 4 words, committed possibly the most epic failure of all time. “I don’t know him.” But here’s the miracle of the story. Jesus, while he was fully aware Peter would deny him, turn his back on Him and walk away, Jesus still said to him, “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell will not conquer it.” Jesus said this, knowing full well what Peter would soon do. God’s plan for Peter never failed or changed. It stayed constant and sure and true. Just like God. And you are no different. Proverbs 22 says, “Surely, there is a future, and your hope will not be cut off.”

Here’s the truth of you. And here’s what I know the Lord wants you to know. You are God’s masterpiece. He created you anew in Jesus Christ, so you can do good things He planned for you to do long ago, even before the world was put into orbit around the sun. His plan for you was in His heart before you were born and He even wrote about those plans in His book, before you were conceived. So, if you’re worried about what He thinks of you, sitting here all in white, feeling like a failure, remember Peter. Yours is nothing compared to his.

God’s plan for you has never changed. And He will see it revealed and completed, if you choose to do the hard work, and like Peter, find the trust and courage to say, “Yes, Lord, you know I love you.”

We’ve all failed in one way or another. We’ve all messed up the plan in one way or another. You’ve listened to voices all your lives that have told you you’re not good, you will never amount to anything, you’re stupid, you’re destined to fail. And you’ve believed those lies and you’ve lived those lives and they haunt you and you hear them in your waking and sleeping and you believe them. It’s what you’ve been taught. It’s all you know.

Now, it’s time for you to work, God wants to renew the plan for you that He laid out so long ago. If you let him, he will equip you with everything good to fulfill that plan that will be pleasing to Him. Because His heart is to use you to bring glory to Him and His Son Jesus. And you can rest, knowing that the ripples from His plan for you will reverberate against the shores of Heaven forever and ever.”

The room is always filled with supernatural activity. I make it a conscious choice to lock on the eyes of every guy there at some point while I’m talking. They are transfixed by the words that, trust me, do not come from me. But, from a Father who loves them so dearly. And I often read hope in their eyes and a renewed resolve to trust the work and the process, some for the first time in their lives.

So, my final words to them are always, “Encourage each other this week. If you’re out on the yard, or walking to chow and you see one of your class mates, just say, “You are God’s masterpiece.”

I know some of you are sitting here thinking that it isn’t true for you. You have failed too much. God couldn’t possibly love you. Let me tell you what’s true about those beliefs. You cheapen and devalue a unique and rare gem that the Lord has created. That, my friends, gets to be your last failure. His plan for you is real and has never changed.

There’s a phrase in the Bible that that I love but never really understood until recently. You are the apple of His eye. What it literally means is that in ancient times, the pupil in the eye was believed to be a round solid object, like an apple. And since the pupil is essential for vision, calling someone the apple of your eye meant that you were telling them they are cherished. The Bible says you are the apple of His eye. Why would He say that? Because when He looks in your eyes, He sees the reflection of His Son. It means, you are treasured. Guys, it’s okay if you are afraid to believe that because of the hurt and pain and guilt and shame you’ve experienced in your past. It’s okay to believe that right now. Just because you don’t believe it, doesn’t make it any less true.

Then we stood arm in arm, shoulder to shoulder and began.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name.”

My mom was in the hospital in Searcy for an entire month. All us siblings joined together to make sure she was comfortable and that she knew at least one of us would always be there with her. She has congestive heart failure, which is being handled with medications. She was having a really tough time breathing. It was so dramatic that she could barely put three words together without having to pause to breathe. If she walked 10 feet to the hospital bathroom, she was completely out of breath and dizzy when I helped her back into bed. She would close her eyes and take shallow breaths until she felt a little better.

When she ate, or drank anything, some of it was going down her wind pipe into her lungs because the flap that was supposed to close to keep that from happening wasn’t functioning properly. She was having to drink everything mixed with thickener, so it was like drinking a soft gel. We secretly discovered that she preferred Dr. Pepper with thickener.  Or a Route 44 thickened sweet tea from Sonic.

She was also diagnosed with atypical pneumonia, which is more like bad, bad bronchitis. It was discovered that her aortic valve was not working properly. So the doctors were trying to make her strong enough to have heart surgery. The doctor finally told us his plan wasn’t working and he was sending her to Little Rock for surgery.

We were scared.

We didn’t know if we were walking with mom through her final journey before she went home. All of us kids talked about final earthly things and preparing ourselves for what the immediate future might look like.

Mom, of course, loved having us there. She would brag on us to all the nurses and doctors. Even though she struggled to breathe and get words out. And they, in their own hurried kindness, would listen to her and encourage her.

One night, I was sitting beside her on her bed, rubbing her arm and holding her hand. She smiled at me and looked away for a minute. Then she turned back to me, and with a serious, searching look in her eyes, said, “You know, the older you get, the more you look back at your life and realize that you didn’t always make the best choices for your kids. Sometimes, you wish you handled things differently.”  I smiled at her and brushed back her hair and leaned down and kissed her on her forehead. And I squeezed her hand.

“Well, Mom, there are no perfect parents. And there are no perfect kids. All of your kids love Jesus. All of them are involved in the church. The ones who have kids have raised them the same way. None of us are drug users or alcoholics. None of us have ever gone to jail. Except that one time, after a late-night play rehearsal in downtown Nashville, when I ran a red light and the officer sitting at the opposing green light pulled me over and discovered my tags were expired and I already owned a ticket for that and he hauled me into the slammer for a couple of hours until a friend bailed me out. In spite of our flaws and eccentricities and drama and a cornucopia of minor dysfunctions, you did a pretty good job. Actually,I think you did a really good job.” Her sweet eyes glistened as she reached up and put her hand against my cheek and whispered, “I never regretted any of my babies.”

The doctors worked hard to get mom strong enough to have a special procedure called TAVR or Transcatheter Aortic Valve Replacement. I felt strong unease and anxiousness, not knowing if this was right for her or not. Then Christina, the TAVR coordinator came in and very meticulously explained the strength building and tests that would be administered to get her as prepared as possible to be a candidate for this procedure. She gave me several brochures to read, obviously with pictures, so I could understand better. I devoured every page. TAVR is much less invasive than open heart surgeries. Instead of having to crack her sternum, they go in with a tube through the groin and knock the old valve out of the way and place the new one in its place. It expands outward and takes over the space and the work. I also heard from several friends who either experienced this same procedure or their family members were walking around with this little miracle device that looks a LOT like a crown. The recovery time is greatly reduced. And with most cases, dramatically noticeable improvement is almost immediate.

The amazing thing that was absolutely NOT lost on me, was how calm I was after reading the info and talking to other people. Peace replaced fear. It was knowledge and understanding the procedure instead of the insecurity and mystery of not knowing that dispelled apprehension and worry. We stood around her bed, all her babies and a couple of nurses and prayed. Mom was wheeled into the surgery room and we waited. Dr. Glover came out after 2 hours and told us the procedure was successful. We went to her room when we were allowed and hugged her and told her we loved her and “go to sleep.” She did.

The next morning, when I walked in her room, she would NOT shut up. She was talking non-stop and her face was pink and precious. Her words were coherent and she spoke in complete sentences without stopping every few seconds to breathe. It’s amazing how good you feel when blood is actually flowing through your body. I said, “Mom, do you hear yourself?” She stopped talking just long enough to smile and then said, “Yeah.” And then continued on her verbal torrent about how she was tired of some form of carrots on every food tray.

It was a miracle. She’s back in rehab in Searcy for a couple of weeks and then will hopefully get to go back to her assisted living home where all her friends are waiting for her to come in sipping on her unthickened  Sonic Route 44 sweet tea and jump into an aggressively vicious game of Bingo.

When I was a child, we didn’t talk much about heaven. I remember the verse most often connected to this absence of seeking out scripture about our future home was 2 Corinthinas 12 where Paul said he knew a man who was caught up to paradise and heard inexpressible things that no one is permitted to tell us. And since no one was permitted to tell us, apparently, we all assumed we weren’t supposed to talk about it at all. It wasn’t until I was much older that I began to wonder why nothing ever completely brought me complete joy, total happiness or a sense of any project being perfectly finished.

When my thoughts turned toward heaven, I couldn’t feel excited about being a disembodied spirit in a place that could very likely become fairly boring after a while. Even with Jesus there.

So, I began a journey to try to discover if there was more that I was missing. And guess what. There was. I found a book that has become like my second Bible called Heaven, by Randy Alcorn. I read it and have just started reading it again. I have never looked at this life and planet the same sense then.

Again, it’s about knowledge. Not knowing, or even thinking I should believe I have a right to search out information about heaven, left me unnerved about what I should reasonably expect about my forever home. Gaining knowledge, again, has made all the difference.

We will not be strumming harps all day. The extraordinary, magnificent reason no earthly experience has ever felt complete or completely satisfied me is because God has put eternity in my heart. The knowledge of heaven has changed how I live my life. Our future home is vibrant, and bright with colors we can’t even imagine. We have real bodies and real jobs, jobs that we were originally created to do. It is rich and full with the presence of God, the creator of the universe. We enjoy perfect relationships with each other and close, face to face, laying in the grass, looking at stars, conversations with Jesus. “We eat, drink, work, play, travel, worship, and discover a New Earth as God always meant it to be. We will see God and fully realize He is the one we have longed for all along. In His presence, all the dreams that seemed to constantly diminish here on earth, will forever expand.” I love how Alcorn puts it. “We, on this dying Earth can relax and rejoice for our loved ones who are in the presence of Christ. As the apostle Paul tells us, though we naturally grieve at losing loved ones, we are not ‘to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope’ (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Our parting is not the end of our relationships, only an interruption. We have not “lost” them, because we know where they are. They are experiencing the joy of Christ’s presence in a place so wonderful that Christ called it Paradise. And one day, we’re told, in a magnificent reunion, they and we “will be with the Lord forever.” “Therefore, encourage each other with these words.”

Picture it. Think of friends or family members who loved Jesus and are with him now. Picture them with you, walking together in this place. All of you have powerful bodies, stronger than those of an Olympic decathlete. You are laughing, playing, talking, and reminiscing. You reach up to a tree to pick an apple or orange. You take a bite. It’s so sweet that it’s startling. You’ve never tasted anything so good. Now you see someone coming toward you. It’s Jesus, with a big smile on his face. You fall to your knees in worship. Then He pulls you up and gives you the biggest bear hug in all of history. “Every kingdom work, whether publicly performed or privately endeavored, partakes of the kingdom’s imperishable character. Every honest intention, every stumbling word of witness, every resistance of temptation, every motion of repentance, every gesture of concern, every routine engagement, every act of worship, every struggle towards obedience, every mumbled prayer, everything, literally, that flows out of our faith-relationship with the Ever-Living One, will find its place in the ever living heavenly order which will dawn at His coming.”

Then I glance over and see a big shade tree with a picnic table under its branches. And there’s my mom, sipping on her Sonic Route 44 sweet tea, with all her friends, playing an aggressive, vicious game of Bingo.