Living Water

The smell of coffee wakes me gently each time I spend the night at my grandma's house. Meme, I call her. I barely crack my bedroom door and I'm already greeted by the softer scents of bacon, bread toasting, the general splendor of a morning in a grandma's house.

So soothing, my bedroom is. It's the back one, on the front side of the house. Floaty, sheer curtains cover the windows and mask the scandalous sunlight, collaborating with the blinds to leave just enough up to the imagination. The comforter and plush pillows are the coldest shade of blue. Cold colors make me feel right at home.

But there are certain colds I like, and certain colds I don't. I don't like a head cold. I don't like the unforgiving slap in the face from a bitterly cold wind, waltzing across the sky in perfect rhythm with ice, taunting me to the point of tears. And--my least favorite--the cold scent of inevitable decay, creeping through the walls into my room. It is death's predecessor, like John the Baptist is to Jesus, though far less wild and hairy.

It reaches its skeletal fingers up and around my neck, sneakily choking me, forcing out breath and life and feeling. Snuffing out a good day before the scent of it has even had a chance to permeate my room.

I venture out the door. I glance nervously to my right. I wrinkle my nose at the bed. The hospital bed, moved unceremoniously into the spare room, occupied by a helpless patient, offends me with its very presence. Stepping into that room is like stepping into a different world, a world where there is no hope, no joy, no purpose, no persevereance. Persevereance is pointless. Purpose is gone forever. Hope and joy are evasive and sneaky and as taunting as the icy wind in my face.

But she stares at the ceiling day after day. She wills her eyes open and she wills her lungs to breathe. She pushes past the pain and I don't understand why. I wouldn't. Some people wonder why many of my peers smoke and drink with as much dedication as Jay Gatsby. I think it's because many of them would rather die young and beautiful than old and useless and decrepit. But, life is the only thing she has left to fight for, so I guess she decided to dedicate all her energy to doing just that.

She's my great-grandma, my granny. She's so far from what we are, in appearance, in ability, in age, in everything. But she has a quiet contentedness that I will never know. She is not pestered by the cynicism of the age. She is not obligated to look dispassionately on life, to assume the attitude called "devil-may-care," to believe that knowledge is the only god, because she has a trophy case full of sufferings to remember. What do we have? Nothing.

We have the right to consume. We have the right to choose. We have the right to be right. We have the right to vote. We have the right to spend. We have the right to waste. We have the right to cry. We have the right to get our prescriptions filled and rack up credit card bills and drown our sorrows in tiny shot glasses of vodka.

We have lots of things. We have healthy hair and clear eyes and trimmed hedges and lithe bodies and prestigious jobs. We are at the center of our culture. We are at the top of the social ladder. And we have empty trophy cases. We have everything and she had nothing and yet she is the one making it in this world on exactly that. Nothing. She survives on nothing that is visible to us, at least. She is shoved to the margins.

And then there is my Meme, dutifully arriving with breakfast everyday, without fail, chopped up in tiny pieces so Granny can chew it with her gums. Bathing her body with the utmost care. Sitting up with her at night. Functioning as a sort of "Jesus" to the overlooked, the socially unacceptable, the marginalized. Functioning as Jesus did to the blind man, the Samaritan woman, the lame man. No one sees what she does. But she is reminding me that the ones whom society scorns are often the ones to whom Jesus gives special care, offering them living water when the rest of the world leaves them parched and dry.

Lord,
Give us eyes to see the ones who need our special care. Even if the situation seems hopeless, even if the rest of the world wouldn't give them a second thought, remind us to do so because Jesus would. Thank you for manifesting the joy of your kingdom here on earth through the life, death, and resurrection of your son. We love you.
Through Jesus, Amen.

Erin Daugherty
Abilene Christian University

Hope

Water. All Noah can see is water. The evening sun sinks into it. The clouds are reflected in it. His boat is surrounded by it. Water. Water to the north. Water to the south. Water to the east. Water to the west. Water. 

He sent a raven on a scouting mission; it never returned. He sent a dove. It came back shivering and spent, having found no place to roost. Then, just this morning, he tried again. With a prayer he let it go and watched until the bird was no bigger than a speck on a window. 

All day he looked for the dove’s return. 

Now the sun is setting, and the sky is darkening, and he has come to look one final time, but all he sees is water. Water to the north. Water to the south. Water to the east. Water to the … 

You know the feeling. You have stood where Noah stood. You’ve known your share of floods. Flooded by sorrow at the cemetery, stress at the office, anger at the disability in your body or the inability of your spouse. You’ve seen the floodwater rise, and you’ve likely seen the sun set on your hopes as well. You’ve been on Noah’s boat. 

And you’ve needed what Noah needed; you’ve needed some hope. Hope doesn’t promise an instant solution but rather the possibility of an eventual one. Sometimes all we need is a little hope. 

That’s all Noah needed. And that’s all Noah received. 

Here is how the Bible describes the moment: “When the dove returned to him in the evening, there in its beak was a freshly plucked olive leaf!” (Gen. 8:11 NIV).  An olive leaf. Noah would have been happy to have the bird but to have the leaf! This leaf was more than foliage; this was promise. The bird brought more than a piece of a tree; it brought hope. For isn’t that what hope is? Hope is an olive leaf—evidence of dry land after a flood. Proof to the dreamer that dreaming is worth the risk. 

To all the Noahs of the world, to all who search the horizon for a fleck of hope, Jesus proclaims, “Yes!” And he comes. He comes as a dove. He comes bearing fruit from a distant land, from our future home. He comes with a leaf of hope.   

Have you received yours? Don’t think your ark is too isolated. Don’t think your flood is too wide. Receive his hope, won’t you? Receive it because you need it. Receive it so you can share it. 

What do you suppose Noah did with his? What do you think he did with the leaf? Did he throw it overboard and forget about it? Do you suppose he stuck it in his pocket and saved it for a scrapbook? Or do you think he let out a whoop and assembled the troops and passed it around like the Hope Diamond it was? 

Certainly he whooped. That’s what you do with hope. What do you do with olive leaves? You pass them around. You don’t stick them in your pocket. You give them to the ones you love. Love always hopes. “Love … bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things” (1 Cor. 13:4–7 NKJV, emphasis mine). 

Love has hope in you.  

You are a flood survivor. By God’s grace you have found your way to dry land. You know what it’s like to see the waters subside. And since you do, since you passed through a flood and lived to tell about it, you are qualified to give hope to someone else. 

Father, please continue to give us hope.  Help us to trust in You and Your plan.  Thank you for your grace and mercy.  We play for your continued blessings…In His name, amen.   

(Borrowed from Max Lucado) 

Casey Dacus
Graham, TX

A Priceless Gift

I love doing random acts of kindness that are done in small ways that don’t call attention to me, but allow others to see Christ and the Spirit at work.  I get a sudden burst of energy and sense of well-being. I feel at those times, I am being molded, shaped, and transformed into the image of Christ.  It also allows me to stop, pause, and listen for the Lord. I believe one of our greatest needs in our homes and lives is kindness. Doing things that benefit someone else.  Kindness is a Christian virtue. (II Peter 1:7)  We are saved because of God’s kindness. (Titus 3: 4-7) What a priceless gift to pass onto our children.

Yet people simply don’t have time to be kind.  We are too busy! It seems people are in a hurry, impatient, and short-fused most of the time. Jesus says that we are to carry His light and let that light shine. (Matt. 5:16) When others see kindness they are drawn to it.  Children are a perfect example of this.  They are quick to sense and pick up on this quality in people who really have it.  

Are we too insensitive to the needs of those around us to spend any time helping? Kindness does take time. In Luke 10: 25-37,  Jesus tells the parable of the Good Samaritan and how he was sensitive to the man’s need and took time to help. Jesus showed kindness to the disgraced woman of Samaria as she drew water from a well. The result of her faith because of His kindness was amazing and many believed in Him because of the woman’s testimony. (John 4) 

I like the following adage:  I shall pass through this world once, any good I can do or any kindness I can show to any human being, let me do now and not deter it, for I shall not pass this way again.

It starts with you. Pass it on.

Carla Henson
Tuscola, Texas

A Faith They Can See

The world we live in has many modern conveniences.  One such convenience is the internet.  Today, information can be passed from sender to recipient in near “real-time”.  Articles can be written and “posted” for the entire world to read with just a click of a button.  Also, readers can respond to an article and “post it” at the bottom of the page immediately after reading the article.  In pre-internet times, article feedback occurred in the evening at the dinner table during the family meal, the next morning at the coffee shop, at work by the water cooler, or, if one was really moved, in a special section of the local newspaper called the “Opinion Section.”

While reading an article online the other day, I happen to glance down at a few of the comments posted by fellow Americans and one in particular got my attention.  The article pertained to a recent public protest over Corporate America with respect to home loan foreclosures.  The following statement is what caught my eye:
Why does it have to turn into a liberal/conservative thing.  Why can't we as humans have compassion for those who strugle or have life changing situations happen to their families?  Sometimes I get disgusted a this so called "Christian" nation that would rather ridicule those who struggle than find a solution to assist those who need it.  We are not the greatest country in the world.  The greatest country in the world would find a way to help their own people in times of need."
 

Hmmm... 

Now, apart and aside from the content of the article, the validity of the argument of those on either side of the issue, and the relativity of the issue with life in general, the words “…so called “Christian” nation…” raised some disturbing questions in my mind.  Questions like…what does a “Christian” nation look like?  What does a Christian look like?  Are Christian’s different from the rest of the world?  If you are not Christian, can you identify a Christian if you met one on the street?  If you are a Christian, can you identify a fellow “brother” or “sister” in Christ on the street?  Most disturbing of all….would someone recognize you/me as a follower of Christ?

As I reflected on this, I remembered a situation involving Jesus, a blind man, and the Pharisees.  Jesus healed the blind man who had been blind since birth.  His neighbors were so perplexed with the situation and the claim he made about Christ being the one who had healed him that they took him to the Pharisees to see if they could make sense of it.  The Pharisees were recognized as the religious folk during that time and if anyone could figure out who Jesus was it would be them.  But, when the Pharisees learned of this miracle and because it was performed on the Sabbath which broke an old law, they questioned the authenticity of Christ.  They couldn’t see/believe that Jesus was sent by God.  Finally, after twice questioning the blind man about where he believed Jesus had come from, he responds… “Now that is remarkable!  You don’t know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes.  We know that God does not listen to sinners.  He listens to the godly man who does his will.  Nobody has ever heard of opening the eyes of a man born blind.  If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”  (John 9:30-33)

Why couldn’t the Pharisees see Jesus as the Messiah, sent by God?  They had knowledge of God and His intent to send a Messiah.  Better yet, how did the lowly blind man, often thought of as a sinner because of his condition, recognize Christ as being sent by God?

To answer the first question, the Pharisees were spiritually blinded by greed, envy, and selfishness.  They claimed to have “sight”, but their behavior proved otherwise.  More importantly, I think the blind man received his sight by EXPERIENCING Christ.

As followers of Christ, we are summoned into a relationship with our Heavenly Father and that is an incredible experience.  But, like Jesus, we, too, are “sent” to seek the lost.  The scriptures describe Christians as being “Salt, Leaven, and Light” and a “Sweet Aroma”.  Our interactions with others should be a meaningful experience that reflects the nature of Christ.  We should have a distinct flavor, demeanor, and attitude.  Are we to be discerning in worldly matters?  Absolutely!  But our discernment and actions must always be rooted in love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23).  This is what sets us apart.  This should be how others identify us, know us, and speak of us. 

Rich and poor have this in common:  The Lord is the Maker of them all. (Proverbs 22:2)

  

Jesus said, “Everyone who does evil hates the light, and will not come into the light for fear that his deeds will be exposed.  But whoever lives by truth comes into the light, so that it may be seen plainly that what he has done has been done through God.”  (John 3:20-21)

Father, help me to be visible in the crowd.  I want to shed light where there is darkness.

Give me strength and courage so I can help others see you.  In Christ, Amen.

Todd Adams

Dublin, Texas

Jesus, The Reconciler

When I grew up on a cotton farm in New Home, Lynn County, Texas, my brother who was four years older than me (named Larry) sometimes terrorized me.  My nickname was ‘crybaby’. Often, we hoed together in the cotton field.  Most of the time, everything went well.  But, occasionally, when we had a major disagreement, we settled it with dirt clods or the big cotton boles if they were ripe enough.  I HAD A MAJOR PROBLEM.  Larry could throw a lot harder. And, if all else failed in the ‘chunking’ fights, he was big enough and strong enough to beat the tar out of me.

I did not know what the word ‘reconciliation’ meant at the time.  But, I was happy for reconciliation when it happened with Larry.  Reconciliation means ‘the restoration of friendship, the removal of enmity, and the establishment of peace.’  All three aspects of reconciliation were a wonderful thing for a little brother.

When Paul describes the work of Jesus in the gospel, ‘reconciliation’ is one of the greatest blessings that we receive.  Colossians 1:20-22 tells us that Jesus ‘makes peace through his blood, shed on the cross.’  We were alienated from God and enemies of God because of our sin.  CAN YOU IMAGINE A ‘WORST POSSIBLE’ ENEMY TO HAVE THAN GOD??  I thought Larry was a formidable enemy as a child because of his size and strength.  But, imagine the God of the universe as my enemy.  

The good news, according to Romans 5:6-11, is that God INITIATES reconciliation.  Paul says that when we were powerless and sinners and enemies of God, God provided Jesus to die for us.  God took the initiative, not us.  

Our ‘reconciliation to God’ is the heart of the gospel message.  And there is something else.  We have been given the ministry of reconciliation by God (II Corinthians 5:17-21).  God expects us to be ‘reconcilers’.  As Christians who have been reconciled to God, we have an obligation to be reconciled to our enemies.  That was the purpose of Jesus’ reconciliation for the Jews and the Gentiles.  And, it is His purpose for us.  He expects us to be at peace with one another. 

Prayer:  Father, help me to appreciate what Jesus accomplished for me—establishing peace between me and You.  Help me to take seriously my task of reconciliation as I live in my home and in my community and in my church.

Terry Brown

Abilene, Texas                      

The Blessing of Getting Chosen

A friend has just adopted her second child. With big brother being four (and also adopted), he has been privvy to much of the excitement and goings-on as the family gathered at the hospital to greet the new arrival and welcome her into the family.

While the weary mom has been busy assimilating a precious baby into her home and diapering and feeding, she has obviously been doing a thorough job of answering all of brother’s questions about adoption and what it means to a family. Have you been around a four year old lately? The questions... they are legion.

Big brother was getting it all straight in his head and summed it up:
“Me and Sissy and dad and our pups were adopted. If you're adopted that means someone loves you when you're born. Mom you were not adopted so they left you at the hospital and then you had to find your own home."

Aren’t children so funny, yet speak words straight from the Lord?

What beautiful insight this child has into what is means to be adopted and chosen. I’m so grateful for the family that God picked out for him that is modeling what it means to be adopted by Christ: someone loves you when you’re born.

Someone loves you when you are helpless. Someone loves you when you cannot love back. Someone loves you when you are demanding and loud and cause a ruckus. Someone looks deep into your eyes and says, “Yes! You are EXACTLY what this family has been missing. Welcome, precious one.”

Perhaps those of us not adopted, like myself, that were just left at the hospital to find our own home  may have trouble understanding this concept of adoption. Love on sight. Loving into a family. How the Lord could possibly choose us -- die for us, even -- when we were still sinners (Romans 5:8).  I think big brother is pretty clear about it.

“For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will– to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves." Ephesians 1:4-6

Sarah Stirman
http://www.sarahstirman.com/
http://twitter.com/SarahSt

Letters of Love

It was a hot July and I was enjoying the air conditioning of a bowling alley in Salamanca, Spain when I first read the letter that would change my life.  Before leaving for a summer abroad in Spain and then Ghana, I had met Jeff at a bible study in late April of 1999.  Our first meeting intrigued me for sure, but it was the letter that sealed the deal.  The letter wasn’t even a mushy-gushy love letter, it was more of a treatise on his life, a purpose statement for the future, and a commendation of me and my walk with the Lord (one I did not deserve).  Twelve years, three kids, and two cross-country moves later, I can read this letter and be reminded of the many reasons I fell in love with my husband.

Letters are a powerful way of communicating ideas, encouraging growth, and conveying feelings.  Most of the New Testament is a collection of letters.  Two of my favorites are Paul’s letters to his “true child in the faith,” Timothy.  Also, the book of Acts is a masterfully written, chronological summary of the early church; all contained in a letter written to Theophilus from the apostle Luke.  

A few years ago a friend and mentor gave us a series of sermons concerning the writing of love letters.  The gentleman that preached the sermons talked of the transformative power the writing of love letters had on his congregation.  The elders, deacons and other men of the church had gathered together a few months before Valentine’s Day and decided to honor their wives with a special dinner and the reading of a love letter.  The preacher described couple after couple that was remarkably changed for the better due to this exercise.  

The letters that the preacher encouraged the men to write were not your typical love letters.  The men used a well-known formula for prayer that uses the acronym ACTS.  The letter began with ADORATION, detailing the reasons why they had married their wives and what they loved about them.  Next, they CONFESSED the areas where they needed to grow and committed to making their relationships better.  Then, the letter went on to list all of the things that they were THANKFUL for in their marriage, and finally ended with SUPPLICATION for help to be the type of men God was calling them to be.  

The experiment grew into an annual ministry leading to marriages being restored and strengthened, souls added to the kingdom and a deeper love for one another.  The preacher went on to charge the congregation with writing letters to not only spouses, but children and even to those that the relationship was strained or broken.  

After listening to these sermons I began writing letters of my own.  The first was to my father, who I had a tense relationship with for many years.  It took me many months to write his letter.  I sent it to him one Christmas.  We never discussed the letter, but through the writing of the letter I was finally able to let go of past hurts and a resentful attitude.  I was able to see my dad in an entirely new light.  The exercise of adoration and thankfulness helped me practice chords of harmony and peace when all I had been playing was off-key “bangings” for years.  The result was a complete metamorphosis of my thoughts and feelings toward my dad, which not only strengthened my relationship with him, but also my marriage.   God used this exercise to show me that letters are not written for the reader only.

Paul reminds us that the influence of a letter is not in the written word, but in the heart of the person that is behind the words.  2 Corinthians 3:3 says, "You show that you are a letter from Christ, the result of our ministry, written not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God, not on tablets of stone but on tablets of human hearts." 

Our lives are living epistles to be read with every breath we take, word we speak and step we walk.  I want us to be encouraged to pick up a pen, grab a keyboard, or text a thoughtful message of love to that person you know may need it.  Yes, it takes time and it may not be easy, but you already know that is the very reason for doing it.  Write someone!

Dana Jaworski
Anchor Point, AK