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Monthly Archives: February 2016

Debate and Faith

Debate and Faith

Everything Melanie says resonates within me, but I love this post because, well, it resonates within me! She loves the Lord, she clings to Him as she wrestles with faith and doubt.

Take time to read this post, and scroll through her past posts as well. While the things she and I write about have often been birthed by loss, the issues she addresses cross over into so many other areas of life. She’s been a student of the Bible for a long time and just has so much to offer. Pull up a chair and soak up her hard earned wisdom!

(Click on “view original post” in red below to access the article.)

Melanie's avatarthelifeididntchoose

There are those who say faith means you never doubt.  Those who live by the creed, “Don’t ask questions!”

But I say faith is exactly what you cling to in the margins of doubt–when you have exhausted all the possibilities that exist in the physical, you-can-touch-it world and yet you KNOW there is MORE.

Now faith is the assurance (title deed, confirmation) of things hoped for (divinely guaranteed), and the evidence of things not seen [the conviction of their reality—faith comprehends as fact what cannot be experienced by the physical senses].

Hebrews 11:1 AMP

Questions are how you mark the borders of what you know and find the edges of what you don’t.

This week I judged a high school debate.  It took me back over a decade to the time and place my own children were competing in tournaments.  As I watched the eager and earnest faces of these…

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Posted by on February 6, 2016 in Faith, Grief, Links

 

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Mercy, Forgiveness & Testimony

Mercy, Forgiveness & Testimony

I received the county 911 dispatch calls from our attorney’s office last year around this time.

That very day I listened to every recorded call.  Two calls featured my shrill, hysterical, voice in the background, which was surprising only in that I was completely unaware of the people who were placing those calls at the time.  They had to have been close at hand but their presence did not register in my mind.

The call Onstar placed for the owner of the speeding silver pickup was interesting in that they only seemed concerned with possible injuries to their driver.  I guess that’s the guy paying them and yet you’d think the Onstar operator, after discerning the wellbeing of his client, would inquire about other injuries as well.  What if the accident occurred when the road was deserted and their call was the only one placed to 911?

 

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Following my foray into the past, into bystanders reactions to the devastation of my life; immeasurably sad, I sprinkled burial-scented bath salts (Frankincense & myrrh) into my tub (not out of morbidity but because I love the fragrance) and sank into the warm water neck deep to process the emotions weighing so heavily on my heart.

And like so many nights before, my thoughts circled.  But this time the conclusions drawn seemed to contradict each other.  I found myself still firmly rooted in the belief that God will ensure justice is served since the legal system failed us to such a colossal degree, and then another, more sobering thought took center stage.  I faced the thoroughly discouraging knowledge that in truth, justice may never be served for my daughters because of God’s grace and mercy.  All that’s required for any one of us to receive forgiveness is that we seek God with a repentant heart and Poof! – our sins are forgiven – covered by the blood of the lamb, who so graciously covered my sins as well.

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For the irrevocably injured this is a hard truth – an unpalatable truth, a bitter pill – and I found myself sobbing out my outrage, bath towel pressed to my mouth to muffle the sound from David and Gracen watching TV in the other room.

I found myself truly angry – enraged really – to consider that God will grant these men forgiveness full and free.  FREE!

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I realize the key here is that the drivers, the prosecutor and the judge, each will first have to acknowledge and repent of their sin.  However, do they get to repent of a sinful lifestyle without specifically confessing the sins that led to the deaths of my daughters, the destruction of life as we knew it?  I know I never confessed each and every sin I’d committed when seeking salvation.

The possibility that mercy may be extended at such a great personal cost, without my consent or permission, is completely repulsive to me.  I’m not unaware of the irony of that statement in that that same grace and mercy was extended to me (although it should be noted that God, Himself did in fact grant permission).  This is not only an emotional battle but one I struggle with intellectually as well.

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Surprisingly, the idea of spending eternity with these men is not a such a difficult pill to swallow – only because the logical part of my mind is assured that is not a possibility. The Bible says at the point of salvation we become a new creature.  They may enter heaven with the same name but not the same nature and by golly, I will be made like Christ which will allow me to walk the streets of gold without stalking them and plotting to do them harm! For that I can be grateful as what kind of paradise would heaven be for me in I continued to harbor animosity toward any of these men and had to live eternally in their presence?

I hate this!  To forever and for all eternity be denied justice is a truth not easily accepted and one I know will require a considerable amount of excruciating personal struggle.  I have no desire to even contemplate the process.

Yet months and months later, that’s exactly where I found myself – contemplating a lack of justice and prayerfully forgiving these men – not for their benefit but for mine.  I highly doubt I can ever look upon the unlicensed driver, the prosecutor or the judge with anything but contempt, but my hope is their power to hurt me has been forever laid to rest.  The speeding driver, I think I can actually look at with pity – unless I find he too lacks remorse and that he assumes no responsibility for his own actions.  But, for now, I know no such thing and I will deal with forgiveness again should the need arise – for myself and because it’s commanded of me by my Savior.  But mostly for my selfish self so I can find a way to live free – without nausea – to lay down the burdens I’ve chosen to carry and those thrust upon me.

Someday, I hope to find my life no longer defined by the accident that forever altered it.  I hope there comes a day where following the introduction to someone new, the aside “That’s the woman whose children were killed in that car accident and . . .”  is no longer is tacked on either in my presence or behind my back as if I’m a novelty in a circus sideshow.

I hope the day comes where there are more notable things to define me than the losses I’ve suffered and the disappointments I’ve endured.

Words like “Bright, Passionate & Generous”“Joyful, Imaginative & Compassionate”, or “Courageous, Sassy & Tenacious” – the words found on Bethany and Katie’s headstones and reserved for Gracen’s.  I told her she’s the only one to be gifted with veto power.

Words that proudly proclaim the content of their character and personality more than the circumstance of their lives.  Words that speak of their true essence. Words that reflect the supernatural work of their Creator, their Savior and the Holy Spirit at work within.  Words that glorify God and forever testify to the immeasurable value of their lives, in spite of their far too soon departure from this world.  And yes, I hope David and Gracen can easily distill my character and personality down to three simple words on a headstone the only testimony of a life lived, choices made, and relevance assigned/ordained – by my Creator. I’m hoping for something more impressive than “Total book nerd”!

 
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Posted by on February 5, 2016 in Adversity, Faith, Grief

 

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Warrior Mother or Warrior God?

Warrior Mother or Warrior God?

This is the mother I have always wanted to be.  A warrior mother, fiercely protective, defender, and advocate who allows no one to hurt my children without consequence.  But I am so not that mother and I’m left feeling as if I’ve failed my children and myself – disappointed that I am not the mother I so much want to be.

There are a number of reasons why I am not that Mom. First and foremost, there are simply battles that you cannot fight for your children. Second, and I never imagined that I would be in a position to say this, but I am constrained by the law. Regardless of the fact that the justice system failed to uphold the law in our case, I am ironically bound by it. And finally, and most importantly, God would not be pleased if I were to become the warrior mother I wish I could be.

Exodus 14:14, tells me, “The Lord will fight for you, you need only to be still.” But, in my humanness I find myself frustrated by this verse instead of comforted. While I know from an intellectual standpoint that I can indeed trust that God will fight for me, I am often impatient to see God’s victory on my behalf. On the other hand, the image of our powerful God is watered down when we see His words displayed amid beautiful and serene backdrops like the following images portray.

Those images are beautiful, touchy, feely images I find comforting in times that I really don’t need God to be my avenging warrior or to fight a major battle for me. But when I desperately need my warrior God, they leave me feeling as if He might not be any more up to the battle than I am. The images are just too cheerful or peaceful and they affect my impression of God and His power.

I need to see this verse portrayed with the image of the ferocious Lion of Judah scripture assures me God is.  I don’t know about you but this scripture just screams to be depicted with a roaring lion mid-leap as he defends his pride. These pictures fill me with confidence that my God is able.

Why do we depict the verses that describe God as our powerful defender, or the one who has sovereign control over nature and every created being with calm and soothing images? Is it because we don’t want to acknowledge that there may come a time in our lives that we might be in real need of our all-powerful God? Are we just trying to cling to the naive idea that our world, our homes, and families are safe? Is it because we want to characterize God as a God of love and ignore or soften the truth that God is a God of justice as well – to make Him more palatable to the lost and less fearsome to ourselves when we rebelliously disobey His commands that we cannot claim ignorance of?

I’m not quite sure why we are inclined to portray every biblical passage in a peaceful setting, but I think we are doing both ourselves and God a disservice. The images we see combined with God’s word merge in our minds causing us to form inaccurate ideas about God’s true character. They cause us to esteem Him as less than completely capable and to approach Him with a far lower regard than He is entitled to. As if he is a common man instead of the King of kings. How insulting to Him! Not only that, but we impede our own spiritual maturity because it is impossible to fully trust and depend on God if we see Him as little more than a human king on a heavenly throne. God’s word tells us in no uncertain terms that he is far more than that, far more capable, far more powerful, far more just. He’s far more everything and I, personally need images that more accurately reflect God’s true nature than ones that make Him appear to be anything less than His Word tells us He is.

So bring on the pictures of our avenging King alongside our gentle shepherd. I need to associate my God with both aspects of His character because I need to be completely confident that He is both in order to trust and depend upon Him alone. Then I won’t need to be the warrior mother. I won’t feel either impotent or as if I am failing because I will be able to be still, to be at peace (not void of emotion but able to find that center of peace in spite of my emotions) in difficult circumstances, unassailed by doubts that my God both can and will fight for me. I will be confident and assured of both the power and the presence of the God who fights my battles for me.

 
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Posted by on February 3, 2016 in Adversity, Faith

 

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Vanessa Martir – Creative Nonfiction

Vanessa Martir – Creative Nonfiction

My heart broke with the very first line. Families, and the way they interact are so complicated . . . we are all, parents and children alike, trying to grow up at the same time. So often unprepared to know how to respond to events we never expected to encounter, could not even imagine in our wildest imaginations.

As a member of the Christian bereaved support group for parents, While We’re Waiting, I’ve encountered families who are deeply grieving the death of a child who struggled with addition. This post, struck a cord within, for a number of reasons, including the elements of faith and adiction. For example this line:

“. . . I finally saw my brother that day in my aunt’s house, a year and three months after his overdose, when he said, “I’m a sin, sis. The bible says I’m a sin,” I finally understood his addiction, and I knew I couldn’t leave him again. My mind goes to an article I read a while back, “Five Unexpected Things I Learned from Being a Heroin Addict”: “If you know someone who’s using or has used, you should know that this isn’t as simple as them making bad decisions. They’re running from something that, to them, seems a whole lot scarier than a needle.”

The idea that this man believed the Bible called him a sin. We are all sinners and maybe it’s a minute distinction but none of us are sin itself. No where does the Bible say that! My heart breaks for this man who seemed unaware that Christ was the answer for his sin. That he need not have carried this condemnation.

And then, the very last paragraph . . .

“He died on June 24th, 2013, but I will never stop saying his name: Juan Carlos Moncada. And, I will never stop telling our stories. My grandchildren will know about him, and their grandchildren will know him. They will know him as my daughter calls him, “Tio Tio”; my Superman, the man who taught me about me about love and heartbreak and the costs of silence.”

The costs of silence. Oh, to know when to speak and when to hold counsel!

**Strong language warning.

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Posted by on February 1, 2016 in Adversity, Faith, Grief, Links