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Assorted

How to be happier

Keep long lists, and short accounts

*****

As I pad down the hallway to my home office, sometimes I’ll look down and remember that the laminate planking I’m walking on was laid down with the help of friends. I’m not the best with a hammer or saw, so while I did some of the sweating, my friends brought the skill. I was so very thankful at the time, and now whenever I remember it’s a warm feeling still.

As of late I’ve been remembering these friends more often because of a curious book. It’s about a guy who set out to personally thank every person involved in getting him his morning brew. There’s the barista, of course, but a farmer had to grow the beans, and then there’s all the people in between – it turns out there are an astonishing number of people involved in a simple cup of coffee. Who picks the blend? How many are involved in the actual roasting? Someone had to design the lid (there’s quite some engineering to it), and then there’s the coffee cup sleeve – there wasn’t always a sleeve – and when we remember that coffee is about 1 percent beans and 99 percent water, then there’s a whole municipal water department to thank too. And who makes the pipes that carry the water? We haven’t even gotten into the boats and trucks involved and all the crews who man and make them.

A long list to be thankful for

This guy wanted to personally thank everyone involved but quickly realized that might amount to millions. So he narrowed it down to the one thousand most directly involved.

G.K. Chesterton said that, “When it comes to life the critical thing is whether you take things for granted or take them with gratitude,” and this book was an eye-opener for just how many blessings I’ve been taking for granted. If thousands – millions – are involved in making a cup of coffee, how many could I thank for everything I find even on my short journey from bed to shower each morning? How many designers, engineers, miners, and factory workers were involved in making the Kindle that wakes us up each morning? And what about our bedding, the bedroom carpet, bathroom tiles and that long-shower necessity, our tankless water heater? I normally clomp past it all, but I could choose to start each day just looking around in amazement. As Chesterton reminds us, “gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.”

The author of this book is a sometimes-blasphemous atheist (which is why I’m not sharing his name - I don’t want to promote him) but even as an atheist he recognizes that his disposition to grumpy ingratitude isn’t good… for him.

“…gratitude is the single-best predictor of well-being and good relationships, beating out twenty-four other impressive traits such as hope, love, and creativity. As the Benedictine monk David Steindl-Rast says, ‘Happiness does not lead to gratitude. Gratitude leads to happiness.’”

But why is thankfulness next to joyfulness? He doesn’t seem to know, but we do. God created us to glorify Him and then gave us innumerable reasons to do just that. And because He loves us, He so fashioned mankind that when we do what we were made to do, it is good for us. And He’s so gracious that even when we do a half measure, thanking the people around us, but forgetting the God Who made us, it is good for us still.

Sometimes we need a Jordan Peterson or Elon Musk – someone outside the Church – to remind us of what we have, and what unbelievers don’t. I was struck by that here, when this author shared,

“…I’ll occasionally start a meal by thanking a handful of people who helped get our food to the plate. I’ll say, ‘Thank you to the farmer who grew the carrots, to the truck driver who hauled them, to the cashier at Gristedes grocery story who rang me up.’”

This fellow is “praying” to people he knows will never hear him because he feels such a need to express gratitude. To quote Chesterton again, “The worst moment for an atheist is when he is really thankful and has no one to thank.” When I look around the dinner table at the food that’s there once again, and the family gathered around, and when I really stop to think of all I’ve been given here, my heart can’t help but swell, but now there’s another blessing I can bring to my giving, loving Father – I can thank God that I can thank God!

Keeping short accounts

But if Christians have so much to be thankful for, why aren’t we more joyful? Why am I too often grumpy, sullen, and short to the people God has gifted me?

Part of it is that we take so much for granted. We easily forget what we have, so there’s something to keeping a thankful journal. Around Thanksgiving each year my wife gets some notecards and encourages us each day to draw something we’re grateful for, and then we put the cards up on the hallway wall. It’s quite the display by month’s end.

But even more of it is taking for granted the biggest gift we’ve been given: forgiveness.

In his booklet How to Maintain Joy in Your Life, Jim Wilson shares how, upon his conversion, he experienced joy liked he’d never had chasing after the world’s substitutes. But as this Navy midshipman set out on his Christian journey, he found that joy diminishing. And it continued diminishing for the next three years. Sitting in the stateroom of an American destroyer stationed in the Sea of Japan, he was struck that for the 3 years since his conversion he hadn’t really been confessing his sins. Oh, sure, he’d confessed some sins, but there were many he hadn’t taken to God for all sorts of reasons. When he confessed his sins, God forgave him, and once again he started feeling that same joy.

Guilt is a weight. But, thanks to Jesus, it’s one we don’t have to carry. Guilt is also God’s way of getting our attention. As it says in Hebrews 12:11:

“No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.”

Jim Wilson was trained by that discipline, but like the rest of us, he was a slow learner.

“I would again disobey, get disciplined, and lose my joy. This time, instead of not confessing, I would confess after a while… ten hours, a week, 2 weeks.”

Eventually he realized that he didn’t have to wait to confess his sins – he could “keep short accounts.” Then, instead of a series of ups when he was forgiven, and downs when he wouldn’t go to God (or at least not yet), he started to experience ongoing joy.

“Sometimes I went for a while before confessing, but generally I would confess right away or within a couple of hours. I’m not saying I have not sinned in those years…. But I have a low tolerance for discipline. I do not like it. As long as I am unrepentant, the discipline stays on me, the hand of the Lord is heavy. I can remove the discipline of the Lord by repenting now.”

For those of us who’d prefer to stay miserable, he concludes his booklet with a list of what you can do instead of confessing your sin. You can justify, excuse, or hide it. You can blame someone else, procrastinate, or stand on pride. A favorite for many is “generalization,” where you readily admit “mistakes were made” without really getting into the dirt of what you did. But tricking yourself doesn’t trick God, and you can’t enjoy Him if you are hiding from Him.

Conclusion

If you want to be happier, it isn’t complicated.

Open your eyes wide, and see the world as it really is. There are troubles, but then there is God, and He continues to bless us beyond any measuring. And the biggest of those blessings is that we can know for certain – we can count on Him – that when we come to our Father with our sins, He will always and forever forgive.

That’s got me a little verklempt but I can assure you, they are happy tears.

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Assorted

A New Atheist loves that old time Religion

In 2007, four now fairly famous atheists – Christopher Hitchens, Daniel Dennett, Sam Harris, and Richard Dawkins – met to discuss their views. They filmed the discussion, titled it “The Four Horseman,” and when it went viral, they became known as the “Four Horseman of New Atheism.” The name of their group was ironic, since they certainly had no interest in the book of Revelation, in which four horsemen bring God’s judgment on the rebellious world; however, it was also fitting, since the Four Horsemen of Revelation are destructive, as are the New Atheists. Even they seemed to understand the destructive nature of their godless stance. Daniel Dennett saw Darwinism’s Dangerous Idea (the title of his 1995 book) as “a universal acid" that would eat through whatever it came into contact with. The despair of our current culture supports that, though in a way that Dennett did not intend. Cultural Christian? Of these “horsemen” the most famous today is Richard Dawkins, who is best known for his book The God Delusion. His prominence is partly because he is one of only two still living: Christopher Hitchens died in 2011, and Daniel Dennett died just this past April. But Dawkins’ fame is also because he has repeatedly made news for embracing aspects of the very Christianity he’s made his name attacking. And God has allowed Dawkins to live long enough to see some of the impact of his own form of atheistic evangelism, so that the lead horseman could begin to understand the destructiveness of his godless stance. This past year, in an interview with journalist Rachel Johnson, Dawkins declared that he “was slightly horrified to hear that Ramadan was being promoted instead” of Easter, because: “ culturally a Christian country. I call myself a cultural Christian. I’m not a believer.” Dawkins noted that “there is a distinction between being a believing Christian and being a cultural Christian.” But as British evangelist Glen Scrivener noted, Dawkins has maintained his “cultural” Christianity for quite a while now. Dawkins offered to read a chapter of the King James Bible for the Bible Society during the 400-year anniversary of the publication of the KJV back in 2011. Dawkins wasn’t paying tribute to the truth of God’s Word – he was only expressing a “historical interest” in the KJV, equating it to a similar appreciation for Richard Wagner and the Greek gods, since all three give us a better understanding of English literature. He also said that “it is important that religion should not be allowed to hijack this cultural resource.” Scrivener also noted that in 2018, Dawkins tweeted a picture of himself with the following caption: “Listening to the lovely bells of Winchester, one of our great mediaeval cathedrals. So much nicer than the aggressive-sounding ‘Allahu Akhbar.’ Or is that just my cultural upbringing speaking?” Dawkins was more pointed in his 2024 interview with Rachel Johnson. He said: “I love hymns and Christmas carols. I sort of feel at home in the Christian ethos. I feel that we are a Christian country in that sense,” And later in the interview he added: “Christianity is a fundamentally decent religion.” Comparing the treatment of women and homosexuals in both religions, Dawkins admitted that Christianity’s treatment of all people, whatever their sex or sin, is fundamentally more decent than that of Islam. But he still cannot, or will not, acknowledge why it is more decent. And that why is rooted in Christianity's working out of the truth of Genesis 1: that all people are created in the image of God. There is no fruit without the root Glenn Scrivener makes a great point about Dawkins’ inconsistent positions: he said that Dawkins is like the birds pecking at the seeds of the gospel in Jesus’ Parable of the Sower (Matt. 13:1-8). You can see such pecking in his Easter conversation with Rachel Johnson. He kept pecking at her own limited faith, asking, repeatedly, whether she herself believed in the virgin birth or the resurrection of Jesus Christ (she could only reply that she’d like to believe it). Scrivener says that Dawkins wants the fruits of Christianity without the root that brought it into being. He makes a connection to a later parable in the same chapter: the Parable of the Mustard Seed where a giant tree grew out of a small seed (Matt. 13:31-32), and suggests that Dawkins is one of the birds that is allowed to perch in the branches, enjoying the earthly fruits of God’s kingdom, even while he saws at the root of the tree. Every knee shall bow (Phil. 2:10) So what is the good news in Dawkins’ claims of cultural Christianity, even as he continues to deny the objective truth of Christianity? Let’s go back to the first Horseman we looked at: Daniel Dennett, who saw evolution – Darwin’s dangerous idea – as the acid that would transform everything it came into contact with. Dawkins has been admitting the terrible truth of Dennett’s boast. Evolution’s attack on the root of Christianity has left the West vulnerable to false gods, like Allah and trans ideology – two things that horrify Dawkins. Dawkins’ confused, but stubborn and hostile, attitude toward Christ shows the truth of Galatians 6:7-8: “Do not be deceived: God is not mocked, for whatever one sows, that will he also reap. For the one who sows to his own flesh will from the flesh reap corruption, but the one who sows to the Spirit will from the Spirit reap eternal life.” And some people have, unexpectedly, been brought by the Spirit to begin sowing to the Spirit. For instance, Ayaan Hirsi Ali, who first embraced atheism in her rejection of her Muslim upbringing, has seen, like Dawkins, how the New Atheism helped open up the West to destructive gods, and how atheism had nothing to counter them. She has been brought to acknowledge both the fruit and the root of Christianity – Christ himself – and in a conversation with Dawkins, opened him up to at least admit that the existence of God is “a dramatic important idea.” The good news is that the lead horseman has to acknowledge that what he and his friends have been sowing – the wind – is reaping the whirlwind. Even better, that whirlwind is preparing some to be blown over by the wind of the Spirit that Jesus tells Nicodemus about (John 3:8). In that way, willingly or unwillingly, they already have to fulfill the truth of Philippians 2:10, and bend the knee before the King....

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RP’s guide to “adulting” – our top articles to help you gain the skills to feel grown up

Young people nowadays feel more anxious and overwhelmed about the future than ever. There are several reasons for this– a relentless onslaught of bad news in the media, the rising cost of living and the overcomplexity of our modern world, and our safety culture that restricts children from practicing independence when young. It’s telling that “adulting” has become a verb, that we feel a need to describe the actions adults take as a skill young people struggle to learn. In the past, young people had a more defined roadmap, and the community surrounding them guided them as they began to take their first steps into the big world. Young people today still can use that guidance from our elders who have navigated this before! That’s why we created this list of articles we have published in the past that offers guidance on different areas of life that young people face. Just click on each title to go to the linked article. Use this guide as a bit of a “roadmap” of options. SHOULD YOU GO TO POSTSECONDARY? We did a whole issue on this topic that’s also worth checking out. I’m graduating – Now what? – Graduating from high school can be a big crossroads – from that point on, your path isn’t so clear. You need to make a choice about the next steps, and here's some advice on how to decide what to do next once you've graduated high school. Thriving at a non-Christian university? – There are many choices of universities, but if you're thinking of attending a secular university, here's some advice! What about a Christian university? – Christian universities aren’t always perfect, but there are some benefits! If you're considering a Christian university, this article has advice for that. Podcasts to get you educated, not schooled – Formal schooling is not the only option for getting educated. Here are some options to learn even if you decide not to go to college or university. Learning can be lifelong, and is not limited to university! CHOOSING A CAREER Having trouble choosing a career? No one can tell you what you should do for work, of course, but it can help to get some insight into what a particular career is like. Your own path in a career will be different, but it’s still helpful to hear from the inside about what others have found. Here are some of the careers we’ve covered in the past, and what it’s like to be a Reformed Christian in these fields. Teacher: Paul Bartels: from carpenter to high school shop teacher Journalist: 87 – The Need for Redeeming Canadian Journalism – Alexandra Ellison (Real Talk Podcast) Comedian: Comedy as a calling Artist: Reformed Perspective has a series of interviews with artists to check out Illustrator: Stephanie Vanderpol has a zoologist in the house Book Publisher/Seller: Albert van der Heide’s passion for print Lawyer: Albertos Polizogopoulos: lawyer for the Lord Entrepreneur: What does a Reformed entrepreneur look like? Homemaker: “Homemaking is the ultimate career” – C.S. Lewis (sort of) MARRIAGE Marriage rates are declining worldwide, and yet many young people desire that loving, secure, lifelong partner in life. It’s just not that easy to find a good match! Here are some articles we’ve published to guide you along the way. How to get married younger – The trend is to get married later in life. But getting married is a worthy aspiration. If you want to get married younger, here’s some advice on how to do it. How I married your grandmother: dating advice for a young man – Sometimes it’s helpful to hear how someone else “did it,” so here’s a personal reflection on exactly how one young man found his wife. Obstacles and roadblocks to having children – Many of us desire to have children, but it’s not always as simple as wanting to have them. First, of course, you have to find someone to get married to. But even then, challenges and obstacles can come up. Here’s some encouragement that children really can be a blessing. BUYING A HOME Home ownership is one of the major things that feels out of reach for young people. It's harder than it used to be, but here are some tips on different ways to reach this goal. Home ownership for Christians: how it happened in the past, and how it might now Tiny home contentment FINANCES A common question is, why didn’t I learn more about finances in school? This is a gigantic topic that is important to learn about! However, a lot of advice depends on your situation and your goals. That said, we’ve covered some general financial topics before, and we encourage you to keep learning about this area. Frugalship: 37 ways to save a buck – on being frugal On investing, with Wade Van Bostelen …but I have a couch – on hospitality FINDING MEANING IN LIFE As Christians, we know the meaning of life, but there can be a difference between knowing in our head and feeling it in our hearts. A big part of growing up is figuring out what’s the “point” of everything we do, and how we as individuals fit into the big picture. Here are some links on finding that meaning and putting it into practice. How to live your best life: knowing, and participating in, the greatest (true) story C.S. Lewis on real happiness and real Christianity CONCLUSION No one can give you a complete roadmap for exactly what you should do with your life, but hopefully the perspectives offered in these articles help you through making decisions. Growing up can look daunting at times, but shouldering the responsibility of living well, and learning to use the gifts God has given you, is a worthwhile and fulfilling journey to take....

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Lost and found: God’s guiding hand in seeking and finding a missing girl

Just before going to bed on a Thursday evening in mid-September, Michelle Dykstra read a Facebook post by a mother whose six-year-old daughter had gone missing. Earlier that evening, around 6 pm, Oaklynn Schweder had disappeared from her home on the Skin Tyee Reserve, an isolated community in northwest BC. Her mother, Gail Skin, shared the devastating news on social media as the RCMP called in a canine team to help find her. “I felt for her, because she is only six” recalled Michelle, a mother of three who lives just outside of Houston, BC. “I couldn’t sleep very much that night.” Not only is Oaklynn young, she is on the autism spectrum and is non-verbal. To make it even more challenging for searchers, she would sometimes hide in unusual places or up in trees. Adding to the urgency, nighttime temperatures around Oaklynn’s home dip below zero, and the surrounding wilderness teems with wildlife, including bears and wolves. Oaklynn was still missing the next morning, and the updates kept coming back negative. Search and Rescue teams throughout British Columbia joined in, along with the Canadian Rangers and the BC Wildfire Service. In addition to specially trained dogs, the RCMP deployed thermal-imaging drones to try to spot Oaklynn’s heat signature in among the trees. As more help was brought in, media outlets from across the country picked up the story of the missing Indigenous girl. Heart for the lost Unable to stop thinking and praying about Oaklynn, that evening Michelle talked to her husband Tim about whether they could help. They had never been involved in a search before, but they lived just a couple of hours away and felt a strong pull to do something for Oaklynn. “I really did feel like it was definitely put on my heart” Michelle reflected. Saturday wasn’t possible because Tim and their son Owen had to work all day, but they decided that if she was still missing Sunday, and if the search and rescue teams were open to volunteers, they would go out to help (even though they don’t normally miss church). In spite of a team that grew to 600 searchers carefully sweeping the area, by Sunday morning Oaklynn was still missing. The searchers were professionally coordinated, using GPS plotting to ensure every part of the land was covered. By this time, hopes of finding Oaklynn alive were diminishing. Michelle was restless and eager to start searching. They filled a vehicle with Tim, Michelle, their children Owen and Morgan, along with Tim’s sister Mandy Jaswal and her two sons Mica and Carson. Providential frustrations In spite of their eagerness to help, they were frustrated by one snag after another. A forgotten coat resulted in a short delay, which resulted in a missed bus ride, which in turn resulted in a missed ferry across Francois Lake. By the time they got to the search area, they missed the team that headed into the bush and had to wait to be called. They spent the next three and a half hours eating bannock, drinking coffee, visiting, and helping out with things like hauling groceries to the search teams. And then a search coordinator passed their group over, as he was concerned that they weren’t experienced enough for the bush. It was afternoon when they were finally called to search, and they were put under the lead of Glen Franz, a search and rescue volunteer from their home town. Two volunteer firefighters also joined their group. In their designated search area, they were to walk 5 meters apart from each other back and forth, to cover a grid over the land. Only ten minutes in, they hit another snag. The search leader was having trouble finding his location on the map and realized that they had started in the wrong place on their quadrant. By this time, they decided to keep searching from where they were, in the hope of going back later in the day to get the area they missed. The problems didn’t stop there. The devices that the search and rescue team was relying on to chart their progress had almost run out of battery. And there were strong winds gusting, with trees falling regularly. It wasn’t until later that day that they began to see that all of these worries and frustrations were actually the means by which God was guiding them exactly to where they needed to be at just the right time. Calming the wind Although dogs, GPS devices, helicopters, drones, and about 1,400 searchers were all devoted to the singular goal of finding Oaklynn, Michelle turned to another “tactic” – going to God. “I remember walking through the bush just praying, ‘Bring her out! Just show her to anybody. We've got hundreds of people out here. If she's hiding, just bring her out.’” As they walked, they saw bear signs everywhere. Tim shared that some searchers even had to climb into bear dens to look for Oaklynn. Although they at first felt they might turn around a corner and just find her, after hours of searching it sunk in to Mandy that: “the only way that a kid is going to be out here, especially since she is only wearing socks and a t-shirt…is if an animal dragged her over here…. Your brain just goes somewhere else to try and prevent you from the pain of thinking of that.” At 6 pm the organizers informed the searchers that it was time to call it a day and head back to the base. They were only half done their search area when it was shared that their GPS search devices were almost out of battery. They were given the option to end their search. Mandy reminded the group that they still needed to go back to the corner where they were supposed to have started. She insisted that they search there so it wasn’t missed. The group agreed, but they also discovered it was the most challenging land in their area, with a steep gully and a lot of trees blown over that weren’t easy to cross. Recent rain made it all very slippery. “We all went up to the top of that gully,” Michelle said, “just so that we could all get together and then leave.” Given that it wasn’t dark yet, the group wondered if Oaklynn had been located. “The thought came to my mind that maybe they had found a body,” said Michelle. They later learned that the search was called because of the strong winds and the danger that falling trees posed to the searchers. Michelle carrying Oaklynn out of the forest, with the team assisting Then, for just two or three seconds, everything got quiet – the static on the radio stopped, and the wind fell silent. As Mandy explained, “All of a sudden were like, ‘Did you hear that? We heard something, Mom, it sounded like a kid!’” The others listened too, hoping it wasn't just an animal. When they heard the noise again they all started calling Oaklynn’s name. That’s when they heard a response coming from the bottom of the gully. They all heard it. None of the adults remember climbing down the gully, even though it had just been a major chore to climb through it. They said it felt like they were transported there. “I just kept hearing ‘I see her, I see her,’ and I couldn't see her till the last second,” recalled Michelle. “So I just kept running. I could not see her until I got around this bunch of trees, and then all of a sudden there was that log, and she was standing behind it, and then she sees me, so she took a couple steps, and I'm full on running, and I just grabbed her and then sat down on the log. It was like, what just happened? What happened?” While Michelle held the little girl, the others rubbed her feet to warm her up, checked her for injuries, got her some warm clothes, and gave her something to drink. They were amazed to find that, other than looking dehydrated, being covered in berries and grime, and smelling like urine, she looked to be completely unharmed. Tim described the occasion as joy all around. Michelle kept saying “thank you Lord!” Their team leader used his radio to report “subject found,” to the disbelief of those at base camp. And then Michelle proceeded to singlehandedly pack Oaklynn through the forest, with the rest of the team holding back branches and helping her over trees. They were so close to the base camp that they could even hear the cheer of the crowd when they were told that Oaklynn had been found and was okay. Just twenty minutes later and they were back to where her mother and father were anxiously waiting. The mom’s reunion with Oaklynn was caught on video and has been viewed on Facebook over 3 million times, in addition to the TV reports that used the footage around the world. But what wasn’t captured was Michelle and the team that God providentially used to find Oaklynn. Recognizing Providence As Tim, Michelle, Mandy, and their children recounted the day’s events, they kept coming back to the same conclusion: God was orchestrating every detail, even the mistakes and frustrations, to allow for the joyful reunion of Oaklynn and her loved ones. If they had started searching where they were supposed, to, they likely wouldn’t have found her because she was moving steadily and wasn’t even in their search area when they actually found her. They also thank God for the young ears of their children, who were the first to hear Oaklynn, even though she couldn’t speak and even though she was more than 100 meters away. Likewise, they praise God for calming the wind and radios so that they could hear her voice. “So all these little glitches, all these little things, all the little breaks, all the perfect timing up to the point of the wind stopping. Like, Who stops the wind?” asked Mandy. “It's obvious, right?” Confessing Providence The previous Saturday, when Michelle was still at home folding laundry and thinking about Oaklynn, she recalled how so many Christians athletes who competed in the Summer Olympics used their platform to give glory to God. “I was thinking, if there’s any chance, I would make sure I would glorify God, right? Because you’ve got to do that.” The day after Oaklynn was found they were invited to a feast organized by the local Indigenous band to thank the many people involved in the search. There was singing, drumming, and speeches, including a mix of traditional native spirituality and Christianity. “The person at the mic asked ‘Does anybody else want to say anything?’” recalled Michelle. “And everybody else is quiet. And then all of a sudden, I'm like, ‘Wait, no, I do. I have to say something.’” Although she is fearful of public speaking, she took the opportunity to share with everyone that it was God who orchestrated all of this. She recalled how she had prayed while searching, and how God directed everything to work together so that Oaklynn was found. Her testimony was shared on Facebook live, and part of it was quoted in their local newspaper. Rejoicing and weeping In Matthew 18, Jesus shares a story of a man with a hundred sheep, one of which goes astray. When he finds it “he rejoices over it more than over the ninety-nine that never went astray.” The searchers shared how vehicles were honking on the ferry ride as they returned from the search, and how they received numerous texts and messages of joy over the news that Oaklynn had been found. Although their children slept well that night, Michelle and Mandy shared how they both had a hard time sleeping, and experienced their share of tears in the days following. By Wednesday, Michelle was back to doing laundry. “I find the sweater that I was wearing, and I pick it up, and it was just this strong smell of pee, like urine, and I just start crying like crazy. I completely broke down.” Later, she went “to bring laundry from the washer to the dryer, and I find the sweater again, and it doesn't smell like pee, and I'm crying again, and it's just a complete mess.” The group admitted they had a hard time in the following days, feeling like a piece of them was missing, since they put their heart out for Oaklynn and now she is back with her parents and doesn’t even know who they are. In many ways, that is exactly what love is. Photos by Mica and Mandy Jaswal....

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The quickening

"The great mass of this bleary-eyed world can see nothing of the ineffable glories of Immanuel. He stands before them without form or comeliness, a root out of dry ground, rejected by the vain and despised by the proud. Only where the Spirit has touched the eye with eye-salve, quickened the heart with divine life, and educated the soul to a heavenly taste, only there is He understood.” – Charles Spurgeon **** Solving vexations, conundrums, predicaments, heartaches, questions, challenges, dilemmas, mysteries and, in short, anything, is hopeless and impossible unless there is a hunger and a thirst within a spirit for righteousness. This hunger and thirst is not fathered by the human heart. This hunger and thirst is created by God. **** The bird feeder area was literally teeming with birds. It had been a long, hard winter and food was difficult to find; the feeding station provided an oasis. Tiffany stood by the windowed patio door and smiled at the little bodies strutting about while pecking at the seed. Sparrows, nuthatches, juncos, and robins mingled freely on the lawn. What pretty individual names they bore. Adam had chosen well. Of course, he had not spoken English. Probably the many different species of birds had been given individual names over time. She smiled to herself and considered that although her generic name was Woman, because she had been taken out of Man, her personal and unique name was Tiffany. Her mother had not really given her a reason as to why she had been named Tiffany. "I don't know, child," she had said, "I think I just liked the sound of Tiffany. Or maybe I read it somewhere. I just don't know." Several sparrows burst out into chirping. Were they alarmed by some hawk flying over? She searched out the sky, pressing her nose against the window pane. Or were the little birds perhaps arguing about why their name was sparrow and not flitterwing? There had been various times in her own life, times during which she had pondered the significance of her name, stages of discussing with her parents as to why they had not named her Johanna, after her paternal grandmother, or Helen, after her maternal grandmother. It had a curious dictionary meaning – the name Tiffany. It meant sheer fabric. Eventually, when she was a teenager, rapidly approaching adulthood, she was reconciled to the rationale that her father held out to her. “It doesn't really matter, does it, Tiffany? When people hear your name, they should automatically think of what you do, of what you stand for, and how you speak. After all, your name ought to signify the reputation you give it. So be careful about what you say and do. That's what it comes down to.” Tiffany smiled at her reflection before moving back from the window. She remembered Dad's words very clearly. And she also remembered Psalm 139. “For You formed my inward parts; You knitted me together in my mother's womb. I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are Your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from You, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.” Surely a fabric, a sheer fabric, such as her name denoted, was precious to think on as being woven together by God. It was an intimate thought, between God and herself, and it was a thought that made her feel special and whole. **** She and Evan had been careful when they had named their children. Their oldest, a boy, had been baptized John, meaning “God is gracious;” the second, Noah, had “rest and repose” affixed to his person. They had frequently spoken to both boys about the meaning of their names. Both John and Noah had been fascinated. Their names had cultivated their identities. Like a gift that could be unwrapped over and again, the truth was that the bestowal of a good name was better than giving a child riches. Their third child, a daughter, had been a wee, tiny thing when she was born. A total surprise, born a good seven years after Noah, this baby had been considered an added sweetness by Evan and herself. She was an extra joy, which was why the name they had chosen for her was Joy. She was now married and had a family of her own. Tiffany sighed. Time went by fast, inexplicably fast. Leaving her place by the window, Tiffany walked through the dining room to the kitchen. The counter was still cluttered with washed breakfast dishes which she had not, as yet, put away. Absently, she took her place in front of the sink, picked up a dish rag and began wiping a spot that needed no cleaning at all. Painfully aware of what made her so reflective and philosophical, she fought the desire to put on her coat, to escape outside and take the car for a long drive out into the country. If she did that, she would not have to wait for the doctor's phone call; if she did that, she would not have to hear the results of her recent lab tests. Even as she doggedly continued to wipe the counter, she fought a rising compulsion to leave. There was no appetite in her at all to digest the knowledge that the doctor might impart. A terrible dread encompassed her that after his phone call this morning nothing would ever be the same again. A fly landed on the counter and she swatted at it with her dish rag. In the middle of her third swat, the phone rang. Startled, Tiffany froze for a moment. She waited for the fourth ring before she finally walked back through the open kitchen door to the diningroom. The phone, large and black, stood on the table. Hesitantly, she picked up the receiver. "Hello." "Hi, Mom." "Joy?" "Yup, it's me. Your one and only daughter. How are you, Mom?" Tiffany's left hand fiddled with the telephone cord. Then she took a deep breath before she answered, "Oh, I'm fine, sweetheart." There was no need, no need at all, she thought, to worry this child, or the others, when there was really nothing to tell. Not yet, anyway. "Listen, Mom, Rob and I thought we might drive up for a visit this weekend, maybe from Friday night until Monday morning. That is, if a visit suits you and Dad." Joy's voice still sounded just like it had when she was a little girl. "Sure, honey. That's fine. We'll look forward to that. I'll have Dad take the playpen out of the shed and the crib's still up in the spare bedroom." "Thanks, Mom. I was hoping it would work out. For some reason, I've missed seeing you guys so much the last few days. Also, and I admit it freely, I really, really want to see how the addition to the house is coming along. Rob and I are so excited about it! But I have to go now. This is a middle-of-the-day call and Rob always tells me to wait until the evening when the rates are lower. But I just had this sudden impulse to call and ask you if we could come and I just wanted to hear your voice." "OK, honey and I'm happy to hear your voice too." Tiffany smiled at the telephone cord which she was crumpling in her left hand. Joy was impetuous, as impetuous as she had been when she was six and had asked the mailman over for supper because she supposed that he looked lonely. "Bye, Mom. See you soon. Suppertime Friday?" "That'll be fine, Joy. Bye, honey." "Bye, Mom. I love you." "I love you too, sweetheart." Tiffany hung up the receiver slowly, and drifted back to the glass patio door. They had begun construction for an addition to the house. She viewed the cluttered backyard with some misgiving. Evan and she had talked about putting on the addition for weeks before finally coming to the decision that it was the right thing to do. However, Noah... She turned abruptly and slowly meandered back to the table, remembering that Joy and Rob might not be the only ones visiting this weekend. Noah and Amy had mentioned that they might drop by on Sunday afternoon. Noah did not approve of the addition. Noah did not approve of Joy any longer either. The remembrance of it fell on her like a shadow and a hard knot gathered in the pit of her stomach. Should she call back and ask Joy to wait – to come another weekend? The phone rang again. This time her hand was on the receiver before it finished its first ring. Somehow she had expected to hear Joy's voice again, but this time it was the doctor. "Tiffany?" "Yes. Dr. Brewster?" Her voice was hoarse. Dr. Brewster wasted no time. "Tiffany, I'm sorry, but the results of your lab tests were not good." "Cancer?" She barely had the breath to push the word out. Behind her, in the kitchen, Toby, the dog, moved about in his woven, wooden basket. The creaks interrupted the doctor's reply. "Yes, but I don't want you to panic." His voice was impersonal, calm and professional. "If you have to have cancer," he went on calmly, "the uterus is not such a bad place to have it in the beginning stages. And that's what I think the lab results show – that you are in the beginning stages of uterine cancer." "So what do I do?" Tiffany felt helpless, hopeless, and tremendously lonely all at the same time. She had not even told Evan about this doctor's appointment. It had, after all, only been a routine appointment, an ordinary appointment. However, Dr. Brewster's insistence on lab work after her last physical had made her nervous, had put a barbed wire fence around the appointment. It had seemed to her that telling Evan would unnecessarily emphasize the possibility that something might be wrong. And she had not wanted to consider that possibility. "Well, Tiffany," Dr. Brewster's voice bruised her ear, "I would suggest a hysterectomy as soon as possible to be your best option. How quickly would you be able to arrange to check into the hospital? The earliest possible arrangement I would be able to make for you would be next week Tuesday or Wednesday. Is that too fast for you and Evan to come to grips with the idea?" "No, that would be fine." What was she saying? What was happening here? Just a few moments ago she had been watching sparrows, and chatting with Joy. "Good." Dr. Brewster's voice was competent, almost chipper as he went on. "Well, keep your chin up. I'll go ahead and book you in for next Wednesday. Just count on the fact that you'll probably have to check into the hospital on Tuesday evening." Tiffany swallowed. There was a lump in her throat and words would not come. "I know this is difficult to take in, Tiffany," Dr. Brewster's voice suddenly became more sympathetic, "it's all rather sudden, isn't it? So, if you have any questions, don't hesitate to call me back. My nurse will call and confirm all these things and will also let you know this week what you may or may not eat prior to checking in." "All right." Tiffany's whisper was barely audible. "Bye, Tiffany." "Goodbye." Woodenly leaning her left hand on the diningroom table, Tiffany's right hand still clutched the receiver. Laboriously she placed the phone back on the hook. She had always loved the Romans 8:28 text. The recitation of it came easily. And we know that for those who love God all things – all things – work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. It rolled off her tongue smoothly, effortlessly. She had always accepted it as totally true, absolutely true – for everyone else. But now she had to apply it to herself. Now she had to say and believe that cancer would work for her good. Now she had to acknowledge that cancer would surely build a closer relationship with the Lord. But she was quite satisfied with the relationship she had with Him presently. "Oh, Lord!" she moaned, and again, "Oh, Lord! Slowly inching over, she sat down on one of the leather-backed table chairs. Then she slumped forward, dropping her hands at her sides, shivering as she did so. Feeling the hard wood on her face underneath the tablecloth was not exactly the most comfortable position. But the tablecloth had belonged to her Mom and right now she longed for her Mom and for her Dad and for Evan. She sobbed, first softly but then the whimpers spilled over into great wails of such an anguished nature that the dog got up from his basket in the kitchen and trotted over. Sitting down at her side, he began licking her left hand, whining as he did so. Eventually, Tiffany stopped keening. She was totally depleted, weary in both body and soul. It came to her that Janice Edgar had died of uterine cancer. Janice had been a strong Christian, often testifying in front of the church, often speaking at women's groups, that God's grace sustained her. Would she be able to do that too? Janice Edgar had been dead for almost fifteen years now. Sitting up in slow motion, Tiffany reached for the hanky in her skirt pocket. Blowing her nose and wiping her face, she contemplated the shades of red in the tablecloth. Mom had also died of cancer, of breast cancer, seven years ago. Mom was in heaven now and so was Dad. “What is your only comfort in life and death?” Tiffany could see her father, grey hair unruly and ruffled, teaching catechism to a room full of teenagers. He had boomed out the answer himself. “That I, with body and soul, both in life and death, am not my own, but belong to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ." And his fist had hit the table at the word “belong.” All the catechism students had jumped, herself included. Tiffany blew her nose again, and her thoughts shifted back to Joy. Joy was a teller of tales and Joy was coming home this weekend. How often, Tiffany recalled, had she not been glad at that six-word phrase, Joy is coming home this weekend. After graduating from a journalism program and accepting a job at a newspaper, Joy had left home. Regularly sent overseas on assignments, the child had a drive to speak the truth and had an amazing ability to weave words together. She was a stitcher of stories. Joy was a writer, a writer like her Dad had been. Tiffany shook her head sluggishly. Writing was an ability she herself did not possess. No, as a matter of fact, stuttering came easily and her heartrate accelerated considerably whenever she was called upon to say something. She continued gazing down at the tablecloth. How often had they not, the five of them, Evan, John, Noah, Joy and herself, sat around this table? How often would it still happen? **** Joy and husband Rob, and their children Lacy and baby Evan, lived about two hours north. Rob was a graphic arts designer and worked from home. After her marriage, although still writing articles, Joy had opted not to be sent on assignment any longer. She was a full-time mom and loved it. Five years ago, before she was married, Joy had been on assignment in Pakistan. Gone for about ten months, she had returned with a baby. That baby was Lacy. "The name Lacy is like Tiffany, Mom," Joy had smilingly told her, "they are both a fabric. Lacy though, like her name, is frail – very frail. But she is named for you and you'll have to pray that she will acquire strength." Lacy had been frail. She had been the tiniest nursling Tiffany had ever seen and she and Evan had loved her instantly. They had been sitting by this table when Joy had come home with the baby the first time. "Where…" Evan had carefully begun, but Joy had stopped him. "I can't tell you much, Dad. Just a little. But I'll tell you what I can." Evan, who had started to speak again, stopped and nodded. And Joy had commenced. "Thousands of children go missing or are abandoned each year in Pakistan. Neonaticide is common. This is the act of a parent murdering their own child during the first twenty-four hours of life. Some babies are found ...." Joy stopped for a moment, swallowing before she resumed her narrative. "... some are found in piles of rubbish, some in garbage cans...." And then it had almost been as if Joy began reciting a lesson. Her voice had turned neutral, monotone. She had gone on, repeating herself. "Many girl babies are found in garbage dumps. There is a strong preference, you see, for boys in Pakistan. One day a four-year-old girl was found in my street. Her throat was slit." Quiet for a moment, she eventually continued, continued wearily. "I found Lacy in a trash bin next to a toilet. I only noticed her because some of the garbage was moving and then there was this tiny cry." Tiffany had found herself reaching for Joy's hand. "Mom and Dad," Joy resumed, "I loved this child the moment I saw her moving underneath the garbage. In a flash I could see myself, covered with the filth of sin. And I felt God reaching out to take me away from garbage, to remove filth from me. So, I reached down for Lacy and she became mine." "How?" Evan asked again. But Joy had gone no further than to say that the child now had her name, was properly registered with the authorities, and that she was listed as the child's legal mother. And Lacy was a Down Syndrome child. **** Tiffany’s focus returned back to the present. She could see that a woodpecker had landed on the birdfeeder. Birds were Noah's passion and he had built the feeder when he was twelve years old. "I want to live here forever, Mom." She smiled. Noah loved coziness, delighted in family games, and he had always maintained that he would take care of her forever. Noah had become a teacher, and had married Amy a few years later. He loved children, very much appreciated imparting knowledge, and taught grade ten. He had bombarded Joy with questions about Lacy. Joy, however, remained close-mouthed and had steadfastly told him no more than she had told her parents. "That information is between myself and God, Noah." He had seemed satisfied with that answer, as was his brother, John. As a matter of fact, Noah had related Joy's story to his students. He'd even had Joy, Lacy in tow, visit his class. Retelling the story, she emphasized the need for the Gospel in Pakistan. Later he told his mom and dad that the students had listened, wide-eyed and very impressed. Ten months after coming home from Pakistan, Joy had come home with someone else. "Mom, Dad, Noah, Amy, John, I'd like you to meet Rob Khan." Almost ten years older than Joy, Rob was an immigrant from Pakistan. Crippled in one leg, Rob had initially seemed shy. Lacy, a determined little pipsqueak, was just beginning to pull herself up to stand when he first visited and she chose to do it by his chair. It set him at ease, and even as everyone applauded Lacy's effort, he relaxed – relaxed enough to be able to tell everyone that he was employed by the same newspaper as Joy, but that he had not really known her until she had been sent on assignment to Pakistan. "It was during this time that I also was in Pakistan, visiting my father. He was seriously ill and we met at the hospital. Joy was pursuing an article and while I was sitting in a waiting room, she asked if she could interview me. I agreed and we laughed pretty hard when we found out we were both working for the same newspaper. During the year that followed, it became very apparent to everyone that Rob and Joy were attracted to one another. Tiffany and Evan had been thankful that Joy had met a prospective, godly husband. That surely was the Lord's work. Rob proved to be a gentle man, one who loved God as both Creator and Redeemer, and one who took his responsibilities as a Christian seriously. There appeared no reason why the couple should not marry. And so they did when Lacy was just beginning to walk on her own. She was then twenty-two months old and there was no doubt that Rob loved the child as much as Joy did. His income, although not high, seemed secure. While his walking impairment did not affect his work as a graphic artist, it was this physical disability which to some degree worried Evan and Tiffany. It was for this reason that they prayerfully decided in the ensuing year, the year little Evan Jr. was born, to put an addition onto their bungalow – an addition which would easily accommodate a small family. It was their hope that, at some point in the future, they themselves would live in the addition, and that Joy and Rob would take up residence in their single-story, four-bedroom home. Not in a hurry, they had worked out the financial details with the young couple and, presently, everything would stay as it had always been. As soon as construction work was completed, they would sit down to reassess. On the surface, both John and Noah approved of Rob. That is to say, there had been no problem until the matter of the addition cropped up. To Evan's and Tiffany's great astonishment, Noah became reserved and uncommunicative during this time. He refused to be included in the plans for the addition and vetoed the idea of sitting down with everyone for a family meeting. When finally confronted by his father, he suddenly flared up in anger. "How do you know Rob's not actually Lacy's biological father," was his first sentence, "and that Joy was not an unwed mother who was looking for a decent way out." When Evan, astonished at both the outburst and the words, had remained silent, just staring at his son, Noah bristled on: "And it's not as if the pair of them don't have an income, Dad, as if they can't manage on their own. They earn a decent salary." "But, son," Evan responded, "Rob's lameness puts him at a bit of a disadvantage with regard to, well, for example, snow clearing and such things. So your mother and I, as we are now middle-aged, thought ...." "You're giving them everything, Dad ...." Noah stopped and Evan immediately and painfully recognized that both money and jealousy were controlling Noah's words and emotions. "Son," he tried again, "your mother and I have talked about this long and hard. It was, after all, our decision to make. And we did discuss with you that we were thinking of adding an addition. You voiced no objection at that time. Add to this that Mom and I would like to stay in this home until we die, and you have a rationale as to why we came to this decision." When Noah did not respond, Evan went on. "You can also certainly understand that Joy could use help, especially with Lacy. Your mother would happily provide that help. And Rob and I, between the two of us, will be able to manage the garden and enjoy the benefits of country life. That is not to say that you and Amy ...." He got no further. "Yes, what about us, Dad? Did you ever think about us?" Evan sighed and repeated his words. "Initially, son, your mother and I came to the conclusion that this was a good thing in the eyes of God. Secondly, it was primarily our decision to make. We prayed about it constantly and, after much consideration, felt assured that this was God's will." "Well, it's certainly not my will." The words lay between them. They were only six words but they were as lengthy as the Sinai Desert. Evan sighed again. "Why not, Noah?" "Think about the money you're spending on Rob and Joy, Dad. Isn't that part of the family inheritance? Isn't that ours?" "Noah, they will be paying their own way. They will purchase their own part of this residence. That will be worked out between us." "They're using you and Mom. They have a handicapped child, a baby and a crippled leg between them – and they're using these things to evoke your sympathy." When Evan passed Noah's words on to Tiffany later, she felt sick at heart. A week after this incident, Evan spoke with John about the issue. His oldest son's response had been hesitant, conflicted. "You are free to do as you like, Mom and Dad," he had countered, "I know that Joy can use the help, but honestly, I don't want to become embroiled in a family argument." "But there is no argument," Evan said, "unless you allow for an argument." John had just shaken his head and changed the subject. **** Tiffany moved her head back and forth as she recalled the conversation, even as she ran her right hand aimlessly along the tablecloth, trying to focus on something else. Her eyes concentrated on the feeder. The hairy woodpecker was still there, larger than life. The red patch on his head stood out in sharp contrast to his black and white feathers. Perhaps he was from Trinidad or Tobago. Their flag was black, white and red. Now that thought, Evan would say, is a silly thought. And truly, it was. The dog wandered over and sniffed her left hand. "Do you have to go out?" He sat down next to her and looked up, brown eyes sympathetic and loyal. "All right, Toby, I'll let you out. Just don't chase all the birds away." There were some things which a person could easily chase away, she mulled, as she followed the dog to the kitchen door which led to the backyard, but there were other things which refused to disappear. And there was this one thought which now haunted her – that this hostility in the family was worse pain than the knowledge that she had cancer. **** She told Evan about the doctor's phone call as they were lying in bed that night. She whispered the news under the protective cover of the dark. He held her tightly, very tightly, and she could feel that his cheeks were wet with tears. "It's all right," he whispered through the dimness of the bedroom, "It's all right. God will lead us through this, Tiffany." She gradually fell asleep in his arms, spent with emotion and weary with thinking. **** "What about Sunday?" she asked Evan at breakfast before he left for work. "Should I call Joy and Rob and tell them not to come? But next weekend," and she swallowed painfully, running her spoon along the edge of her dish, "I'll probably be in the hospital and I won't be able to see the grandchildren." Evan didn't answer and she continued. "Or should I call Noah and Amy and tell them not to come?" "Don't call anyone," he advised, "Just let them all come." "But they won't get on." Evan smiled at her. "No, they won't." She wanted him to say more and when he did not say anything else, she went on. "If they don't get on, Evan, it will be difficult." She stopped, perplexed. Looking at her crestfallen face, Evan took pity. "Oh, Tiffany, you know that I understand with all my heart how you are feeling. I feel it too. But presently we won't be able to solve this. Perhaps there will be a breakthrough. Perhaps Noah will gradually be able to accept the situation and support it as he ought to have from the beginning." Tiffany nodded. Evan was right. He came over and kissed her cheek, adding a postscript. "We cannot change him, but we can pray for him. Remember, sweetheart, we have done nothing wrong. As a matter of fact, what we are doing is very right." **** She performed her housework mechanically that day. She dusted what was not dusty, and often stopped to stare vacantly into either the front or the back yard. Her thoughts alternated between the cancer and Noah. To have one's uterus taken out, one's womb, was an incomprehensible thought. The word hysterectomy was easy enough to say, even though it was a big word, but its inference, its significance and essence, was unambiguously difficult. She cringed at its somber implication as it shouted: "You will lose your femininity. You will no longer be able to have children." Now, it wasn't as if she and Evan would have any more children. After all, she was in her late forties and the time of bearing children was past. But the whole concept of losing part of her femaleness was abhorrent to her. And what if one thing led to another? Aunt Catherine had died of cervical cancer. After Aunt Catherine's hysterectomy, her bladder had been removed. There had been tubes in her sides and it had seemed a downward trajectory after that. The large intestine had to be operated on next and then the exit to her lower abdomen was relocated. Not that it was carved in stone, she told herself stoically as she vacuumed the stairs, that this would happen to her. And if it did, well then, that would be something which God wanted her to go through. All things work together. All things work together.... The vacuum cleaner droned the words – words to which she must cling. Nevertheless, as the vacuum cleaner suctioned dirt, she shivered. She hummed quietly through the hoover's discordance. When there was a lot of noise, you could sing and no one knew that you were off-key. Walking back up the stairs, she pulled the plug and then pulled the machine back into the hall closet. After she shut the closet door, she walked over to the piano. What music, what words could comfort now? The Psalter was open and she sat down on the piano bench and played softly, singing the familiar words. They caused tears to trickle down her cheeks. "Praise to the Lord, Who o'er all things so wondrously reigneth, Shelters thee under His wings, yea, so gently sustaineth! Hast thou not seen How thy desires e'er have been Granted in what He ordaineth?" Wiping her cheeks, she re-asked herself the question. Had God ordained the cancer? And she answered herself. Yes, He had. And, she knew as well that this was for her good. Swinging her legs around, she got up from the bench. Evan had said that it might be wise to call the minister. He had offered to do it himself, but she had said that she could manage. Let's see. Could she say it? She cleared her throat. "I have cancer." The words emerged dull and lusterless. "I have cancer." She spoke louder this time. But her heart had begun to thud. Then she said, "Tiffany has cancer." This came out easier. It sounded as if she was speaking about someone else. The clock ticked in the background and through the ticking she tried again. She whispered, "I am Tiffany." And then she sat down and wept. **** The minister was very kind. She did begin to cry as she told him and he patiently waited until she was calm and coherent. "Shall I come and visit?" he asked, but she replied that this was not necessary. But then, all of a sudden, without deliberation, she poured out her heart about Noah, about the intense grief she and Evan were feeling because their son's heart seemed to be turned away from God and towards himself. "Dear heavenly Father," the minister prayed with her, "Touch Noah's heart ...." "Thank you," Tiffany enunciated with difficulty, "but this Sunday ...?" "I know," he answered, "but these things often take time – possibly years and years." "I might not," she responded, "be there after years and years." But even as she said this, she felt it was unfair towards him and her spirit recalled the words, "Granted in what He ordaineth." **** It was Wednesday and Wednesday was her regular day for shopping. Not that it was a hard and fast rule, but she felt a need to go out. The phone rang as she was putting on her coat. She ran up the stairs to answer. It was Evan. "Tiffany, are you all right? I've been thinking about you all morning and just want to say that I love you so much." She smiled. "Hey, I'm just fine. A little teary-eyed every now and then, but I think I'll manage. How about you?" "Oh, I'm fine too." He stopped talking and there was quiet. "Well, I'll call you again later. I just wanted to hear your voice for a minute." "Evan, actually I'm just leaving for some shopping, so if you don't get an answer when you call again, don't worry. I'll give you a call when I get back in." "OK, sweetheart." She hung up the phone slowly and retraced her steps to the front door. **** There was no shopping. On a whim, Tiffany drove to a local conservation area. Here it was that she and Evan often came at dusk to just sit a while, not necessarily speaking. The park was built on a bluff and from it you could look out over a valley lush with maples. Half the view was sky. She sat in the car and stared into the horizon. A memory came and she vividly recalled a time that she, Evan, John, and Noah had camped in Algonquin Park. The boys had been three and five. Joy had not yet been born. She and Evan had slept in one tent and the children right next to them in another. In the middle of the night, they had heard growling. Belly-crawling over the canvas floor towards the tent flap, an unnerving spectacle had met their eyes. The open flap had revealed a mother bear with two cubs. All three animals were nosing around in the little trailer housing their bikes and their food. The trailer stood about ten feet from their tents. Her heart had begun to thump so loud that the ground beneath her shook. "Are you scared, Evan?" "Yes." Two-year-old Noah had unzipped himself out of his sleeping bag about half an hour before, yelling, "Bear! Bear!" at the top of his lungs. They had soothed him, tucked him back into his bedroll, assuring him that there was no bear. Comforted, he had fallen asleep again as quickly as he had woken up. If reawakened, he might have come running out, provoking that mother bear. Their soft prayer for safety had been salted with fear. There really had been nothing they could do except pray. Evan and she had watched the mother bear with her cubs until she lumbered off with them at dawn. God had protected them that night. It felt a bit like that right now. It felt like she was lying flat on her stomach, watching the world around her through a tent flap. The cancer was nosing through her life and she was afraid of its presence. And Noah, next to her in his tent, might be swallowed up by... by what? "By his unnecessary greed and jealousy." She whispered the words towards the sky. **** Later, she reached into the glove compartment of the car for the small Bible Evan had given her on their twenty-fifth anniversary. Inscribed on the flyleaf were the words: “On your forty-seventh birthday. May God's words be a lamp unto your feet. You are my sweetheart. Love, Evan.” She held the small leather volume between her hands. Both words of life and words of death were contained within its cover. She did not read but just kept the book on her lap. The almost-teenager Joy abruptly appeared in her memory. She had been tucking the girl in for the night. "Mom, does the Lord's Supper bread taste good?" "It's a symbol of Jesus' body, Joy." "Oh, Mom," Joy was indignant, "I know that. That's not what I meant. I meant, does it taste good in your heart?" "Yes, it does, Joy. It tastes very good in my heart." "What do you suppose, Mom, we'll eat at the wedding supper of the Lamb? I suppose," she added softly, "that it doesn't really matter. What really matters is that you've been invited." The girl smiled at Tiffany before she continued. "What do you suppose the invitation looks like, Mom?" Again she went on without waiting to hear what Tiffany would answer. "I know what it looks like, Mom. It looks like this." She took the Bible off the nightstand next to her bed. "Can you imagine the price of the postage, Mom? Can you imagine what you would have to pay to send out invitations like this?" She grinned and sat down cross-legged on her bed. "But that's not really true is it, Mom. The real price was not postage stamps. It was a lot more expensive. It was Jesus dying on the cross." "Yes, Joy." **** It was late afternoon when she drove the car back into the driveway again. She turned the car off, opened the door and stepped out. It was almost at the same time as Eleanor Trask, her neighbor, walked by on the sidewalk. "Hi, Tiffany." "Hi, Eleanor." "Tiffany, I need to speak with you a moment." Eleanor approached at a rather quick clip, and there was something in her demeanor which made Tiffany uneasy. Eleanor was a sweet neighbor, a widow in her sixties, and someone she trusted. Before she had quite reached her, Eleanor's words spilled out. "The doctor has been trying to reach you all afternoon, Tiffany. He knew you were my neighbor and asked that, should I see you, I pass on that you come to his office as soon as possible. Even if it's late, he said, you were to go directly to his office." Tiffany blanched. "Did he say why?" "No, dear, he didn't. Is anything wrong, Tiffany? Can I help you with anything?" "Thank you, Eleanor, but no. I'll talk with you some other time. I'll just go in now and phone Evan before I leave." "All right, dear. But are you sure? You look pale. I could make you a cup of tea before you go." Tiffany smiled. "No, thank you. Really, I'm fine." With that she turned, not trusting herself for fear of weeping, trembling, and blubbering on Eleanor's shoulder like a child. Inside, she sat on the stairs for a few moments, praying. "Please, Lord, help me, for Jesus' sake." Then she got up and phoned Evan. He had been, he informed her, trying to call her and was about to call her again. When she told him about Dr. Brewster's phone call via Eleanor, he immediately said he would meet her at the clinic. "Oh, and sweetheart," he added, but then said, "Never mind, I'll tell you when I see you." It was barely twenty minutes later that they checked in at the nurse's desk. Even though it was late afternoon, several people were still sitting in the waiting room. "I don't have an appointment," Tiffany explained, "but Dr. Brewster seems to have called me and ...." She did not have to say more. The nurse smiled up at her. "Yes, I know. Please have a seat. I'll let you know as soon as he can see you." **** "Tiffany," Evan began in an undertone, "there's something I have to tell you. Right after you phoned, I called both John and Noah. I told them what Dr. Brewster had said in his first phone call, and that you had received another phone call from him because... well, I don't really know why, but..." "Oh, Evan, we were going to wait to tell them until the weekend." "I know, sweetheart. But when you told me Dr. Brewster had phoned again, I thought it was better to let the boys know sooner. I think I would have wanted to know if my mother..." Evan's voice had become rather unsteady. He stopped talking and she reached out her hand. He took it, cradling it within his two much larger hands even as he kept talking. "I love you, my sweetheart, and I wish it were myself who..." "Oh, don't, Evan." They had not noticed that the nurse had left her place behind the counter and was standing in front of them. "You may go in now. The doctor is waiting for you." Unsteadily, Tiffany rose even as Evan's arm supported her back. **** Dr. Brewster, a tall, middle-aged man, stood up from behind his desk as they entered. "So glad you received my message and came, Tiffany. Good to see you too, Evan. Please, please sit down." Tiffany had difficulty catching her breath and she leaned on Dr. Brewster's large bureau before she took her place on one of the black, chrome-edged chairs stationed in front of it. Both she and Evan sat down gingerly, as if by relaxing on the chairs too comfortably, tragedy might strike them unaware. Tiffany's breathing was shallow. She couldn't bring herself to speak. Dr. Brewster smiled at her, but her face was a mask – a hard mask that would break should she move even one muscle. "Tiffany, Evan, I don't quite know how to tell you this. There's been a mistake." Tiffany reached for Evan's hand. Her eyes were riveted on Dr. Brewster's mouth. He had a tiny gap between his front teeth and she noted that the bristles of his moustache quivered as his voice orated on. "I have no idea how it happened. I suppose living in a computer-age, we're all subject to mistakes because of machines." Evan interrupted. "Tell us, Dr. Brewster, what you're driving at. Can't you see that this is tremendously difficult for us." "Yes, of course." He half-stood up and then, thinking the better of it, sat down again. "Well, you see, the tests that I spoke to you about earlier this week on the telephone, Tiffany, those tests were not yours. They belonged to someone else." It was quiet for a long minute. Then Evan cleared his throat. "Are we to understand that you are telling us that Tiffany does not need a hysterectomy – that she does not have uterine cancer?" His voice had a sharp edge. "That is correct." Dr. Brewster answered quickly, almost nervously. He stroked the mustache above his full lips and went on. "I am, as I am sure you are, tremendously relieved. Please accept my apologies for the trauma you must have gone through." It was quiet again – a quiet in which all sounds seemed beautiful to Tiffany. Suddenly she relaxed against the back of the chrome chair. "But my tests, Dr. Brewster, what do my tests actually show?" Tiffany's voice was slightly higher than it usually was. "Well," leaning back in his chair as well, and adopting a more commanding presence, Dr. Brewster's voice resumed a professional tone, "your tests were absolutely healthy. They were normal. There is nothing for you to worry about." "How…" Evan began, and then stopped. "Why…" he started again, but pressure from Tiffany's hand deterred him from continuing. She stood up. Both her legs and her voice were a bit unstable. "Will you need to see me again, Dr. Brewster?" He stood also, as did Evan. "Not until next year, Tiffany." "Thank you." She moved towards the door, pulling Evan with her. "We are walking through a miracle," she whispered, "We really are walking through a miracle, Evan. It's like I'm the daughter of Jairus." Faltering through the office, unmindful of the waiting patients, Tiffany began to weep and stumbled. Evan put his arm around her. "It's all right, sweetheart," he whispered, "I love you." They made it down the clinic hallway, and Evan pushed the door to the parking lot wide open. "I think I'll drive you home," he said, "and tomorrow you can drive back here with me and I'll take the car to work." She nodded, unable to speak. Her throat was dry. Evan held her hand and directed her towards the car. It was beautiful outside. The birds sang what she felt in her hearts in that moment. The nearby maples on the edge of the parking lot, were alive with notes of praise. She noted with delight a grey squirrel scampering up one of the trees. The air was pure and she inhaled deeply to taste it. "Taste and see that the Lord is good." Indeed, He was. "Evan, let's ...." She stopped short for there in the car parked next to Evan's car, she could see Noah. He was staring at them and her whole wall of thankfulness came tumbling down. "Evan!" "Yes, I see him." Even as they spoke, Noah opened the door of his car and came out. "Mom! Dad!" She loved Noah. She loved him so much that she ached. "Oh, Evan!" “It's all right, Tiffany! It's all right!" “Can I come and sit in your car?" Noah's voice was strangely sober, and Evan nodded, simultaneously answering, "Of course, you can, son." As they took their places in the front seat, Noah edged into the back seat. He began speaking as soon as Evan closed his door. "Mom, I know you must be wondering why I'm here, although I think that Dad might have explained to you about how he called and told me..." He stopped here, touching the back of her shoulder before he went on. "It doesn't matter what the doctor said, Mom. I love you. It will be OK. I know it will and I've been praying for you the whole time while you were in the office. We'll deal with it together as a family should." Tiffany felt a sob rising in her chest, a sob that she suppressed. "I know what you must think of me," Noah went on, "and I want to tell you something – a story actually – a devotional read by one of my students this morning. I was very much moved by that devotional. I'd like you to hear it before you tell me about the doctor. Would that be all right? Would you listen to it, Mom and Dad?" Again it was Evan who answered. "Sure, son." The trees, tall and majestic, surrounded the parking lot. Tiffany gloried in their beauty, even as she strained her ears to mind the words Noah was beginning to share. The grey squirrel ran up a nearby tree and took his place on a low-hanging branch, chattering up a storm. "There was a man," Noah began, "a preacher. He was a good preacher, always saying the right things, preaching excellent sermons on how one's life should be transformed by the Holy Spirit, and how we must study and act on what God's Word tells us. One day, a stranger attended one of the preacher's services. The sermon was particularly personal that Sunday and the man felt something stir within him, something he had never felt before. As a matter of fact, he felt so guilty with regard to the unwholesome way of life he had been living, that he followed the preacher after the church service with the intention of asking him questions. "Now there were other people as well who wanted to speak with the preacher after the service. So, the man who had just been shamed for his way of life by means of the sermon, was not able to reach the pastor's side because the pastor was literally surrounded by these other folk. So he lingered at the tail end of the group. But even though he was not directly among them, he did pick up their coarse language and their crude jokes which were being told. And he noticed with bewilderment that the minister laughed as loud and as long as the others in the group. "After some fifteen minutes or so of walking, the group entered a home, probably the home of one of the men in the group. Everyone was invited in and beer was served. The man went in also and the joking and unhealthy manner of speaking continued in the home. The minister was in the thick of it but he said nothing to halt the vulgarities of his companions. After some time of observing this unrestrained behavior, the man left. "It was at least twenty years later, that this preacher was called out to visit a dying man. He readily acquiesced and was led to the bedside of someone he did not know. And this dying man, after fixing him with a long stare, began to speak. "'I suppose,' his lips muttered, 'that you do not recognize me.' "'No,' the pastor replied, "indeed, I do not.' "'I heard you preach once,' the man went on, 'a long time ago.' "'Praise God,' the preacher said, 'I'm thankful for that.' "'Perhaps you ought not be thankful,' the dying man answered, 'even though I admit that at that time I was initially thankful for what you said.' "'What do you mean?' "'When I heard you preach, I was living a sinful life – a very immoral and wicked life. But your words, the words you preached on the pulpit, made sense and I was sorely shamed. So I followed you after church, wanting to speak with you privately so that you might help me understand what it was I ought to do to make amends.' "'Yes?' "'You were walking with a group of men. Their joking and rudeness amazed me. But what amazed me more was the fact that you participated. Even when I walked into the house you entered with these disgusting companions, you did not correct them. So after some time, I left. Once outside, I stamped my foot upon the ground and vowed that if such was a changed life, I didn't have to do much to change. I might as well keep enjoying what I had, up to that point in my life, delighted in.' Even as the man spoke, a death rattle in his throat, the minister paled. Shocked and chastened, he could find no words to speak. And then the man died." Tiffany and Evan had been totally quiet throughout Noah's telling of the story. When it finally appeared done, Evan cleared his throat. But Noah was not done. "You need not say anything just yet, Dad," he carefully went on, "You see, I came to understand during that devotion that the preacher in the story resembles me. I often tell the kids in my class how important it is to share, how important it is to show the love of God not just in words but in deeds. And I came to understand that I myself have been hypocritical." Noah's voice was breaking, even as he went on. "Oh, Dad and Mom, I am so sorry!" A bird alit on a tree branch overhanging the car and began to sing. And Tiffany knew that this last miracle was greater, much greater than the first. Pictures are by Havilah Farenhorst....

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That I may declare it boldly

Therefore, take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication. To that end, keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, and also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the Gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak. – Ephesians 6:13-20 **** When I was a baby my mom dressed me, often in clothes which she herself had made. Gifted with creativity, she knitted sweaters, booties, skirts, jumpers (and you name it) – all for me. Later on, my oldest sister was given the task of helping me and I still remember sitting on the baby dresser, feet dangling over the edge, as she washed my face, chose my clothes and carefully decked me out like a precious doll before she took me down to breakfast. How blessed I was! Care, clothes and food – all provided for me before I even understood what great provisions these were. And later, after breakfast was finished, my Father would add to the list of benefits by awarding me with an unequaled present, the reading of the Bible. As I grew older, I learned how to dress myself. And so I did. Putting on undershirts, underpants, socks, skirts, tops, dresses, etc., all grew into skilled appareling techniques which I mastered with growing ease. As my Father kept on reading the Bible to all of us gathered around the table, I was continually instructed in the wearing of an armor. Although there were no mail accoutrements hidden under the dining room table, and no chain link vests hanging in the hall closet, nevertheless, I slowly imbibed the knowledge that I needed to be girded by this protection. 80,000 conversations Although it is somewhat of an impossible statistic, it has been calculated that the average person will meet approximately ten thousand persons in his lifetime. That is mind boggling! These people will not be intimate acquaintances. Rather, they will be people whom we meet once, perhaps twice, in our lifetime and then probably only in a casual way. Nevertheless, they will pass through our lives – in shops, at malls, on streets, on buses, in classrooms, at baseball games or in restaurants. Ten thousand folks, each with a beating heart and a living soul! Ten thousand people! Enough to populate a small town! When I was first married, I had to walk through the downtown streets of Hamilton each day to get to my place of work. No matter what the weather had in mind, sunshine, snow, rain or wind, every morning I would pass a woman at approximately the same spot. She was a thin, middle-aged lady with dark hair tied back in a severe bun. The woman always avoided my gaze and would never look at me directly. I began to say “hello” to her, but she never responded. I tried “good-morning” and “good day” and, after a few weeks, it began to be a sort of game for me. Will she react to me today? Will she smile back at me? What shall I do this morning to catch her attention? In the end, after about eight months, just before we moved from Hamilton to Guelph, she smiled back. And then, I never saw her again. ***** One piece of data I read posits the thought that if you have conversations with three new people each day for 73 years, an average life span, the number of conversations you would have during your lifetime would be 80,000. That's a lot of conversations! And this number of people are as many as would fill an Olympic stadium! Time to clear your throat, or rather, time to think about putting on the armor. Once, many years ago, my husband and I stayed in a small motel in Whitney, Ontario, a town bordering Algonquin Park. We were there for a few days of holidays and enjoyed ourselves immensely. The three children we had at that point were being looked after by family and we reveled in sleeping late and in long nature hikes. Next to our little motel was a small trading post with a lady proprietor. She was a very sociable woman and whenever we stopped in to make a purchase, she talked incessantly and enthusiastically about the beauty of the park and about the delight she took in the wildlife around her store. She also went out of her way to show us some of the unique artifacts displayed in her shop. Friendly, good-natured and personable, she made us feel special. On the morning we left to drive back home, we stopped in to say good-bye. After briefly chatting, another customer arrived and we slowly faded into the background towards the door. Behind us, the woman chattered away to the newcomer. And then she swore. Her voice had turned raucous, loud and exclamatory, puncturing the air. We went on our way. I distinctly remember that it was raining hard outside. My husband had the windshield wipers of the car going quickly. Back and forth they went, as if they were trying to wipe out the memory of that swear word. We never saw the woman again. What sort of letter are you? We are letters. Paul tells us this in 2 Corinthians 3. We are letters which are read. When people are more intimately involved with us, they are more likely to read us more carefully (and between the lines), than those who know us only a little bit. Yet all the people who pass us, and that includes strangers who only see us for a moment or two, will scan us to some extent. And what will they read? When I was in business college, there was a girl in my class. Her name was Ellie. She was a quiet girl with an appealing roundish face and glossy, bobbed, reddish-brown hair falling sleekly about her cheeks. Ellie gave the impression of vulnerability. Her large, brown eyes observed the world questioningly above a multitude of freckles. During one of those first days of school, we both chanced to be going down the elevator at lunch hour and somehow ended up eating lunch together in a local park. Ellie boarded in the downtown Hamilton YWCA. She had a room there and invited me to see it. Her family lived on a farm, too far away for her to travel back and forth every night, she told me. I thought nothing of it until a few weeks later, when it became obvious to me, naive though I was, that Ellie was pregnant. It was difficult to broach the subject, but I did. Ellie cried and told me that she had been adopted and that her adoptive brother was the father. She loved the baby growing within her, but her parents had told her that she could only come back home if she would give up the baby for adoption. Both empathetic and horrified after her revelation, I promised to help her. I was a Christian, I told her, and Christians always help others. It was a Friday and I went home full of plans, immediately contacting two local pastors to ask if they could help me find a solution to Ellie's problem. Neither was particularly enthusiastic and, thinking back on it now, I cannot really blame them. Although my eagerness to help knew no bounds, the information I had was scanty. When I came back to school that following Monday, Ellie was not in class. Walking to the YWCA during lunch hour, I discovered that Ellie had disappeared. No one at the desk was willing to give me her address. I never saw her again. ***** If you go shopping, it is inevitable that you will pass a great many people whom you will never see again during your lifetime. It is unlikely that you will hold a conversation with each and every one of these people. But the sheer breadth and width of the scope of individual lives who intersect with you for only the space of a moment is mind-boggling. It can make you conceive of yourself as part of a huge multitude; it can make you conclude that you are immensely small; and it can make you regard God as incredible beyond comprehension. For He knows the minds and hearts of all – every step, every thought, and every hair on their heads. Go out into the world, He said. We tend to hide behind devices now – we speak to a lot of people on these devices, without actually really speaking to them – and feel good because people respond to our trivial questions and remarks. There is a need for people to belong – the need to build up a facade of relationships – the need to look as if we are not alone. The sad truth is that most people don't know how to belong any longer. If there is any sort of pandemic in the world which is in dire need of a vaccine, it is the pandemic of perceived friendships with inanimate cellphones. It is a deafness, an inability to interact, and a numbed knowledge of what real fellowship actually means. Detached and indifferent, many have lost the wisdom of how to live in community, of how to love your neighbor as yourself. Catholic conversation A number of years ago, I accompanied my husband to Montreal where he had to attend several meetings. While he was participating in his conference, it was my privilege to wander through the streets of Montreal. It cost me five dollars to get into the Notre-Dame Basilica. And thinking about it, maybe the five dollars went to a wrong cause and I should have resisted the desire to see the insides of this monumental structure. But I didn't. I handed my ten-dollar bill over to a man behind a dark desk, a man who was neither friendly nor gracious and, after receiving my change, I pushed open the heavy, creaking door to the Basilica's sanctuary. An overwhelming smell of wax assailed me almost immediately upon entering. Electric light bulbs were hidden away high up on the ceiling or inside niches; and rows upon rows of flickering sweet-smelling candles were situated under every pillar. I made my way past these little flames with the wooden boxes in front of them, every one of them inviting poor, unsuspecting supplicants to put their dollars and dimes to bad use. Side aisles were flanked by stained glass windows. Haloed statues overshadowed these aisles every few steps. I strolled towards the front of the massive church. An English guide was stationed next to the first few pews, where she was giving a group of non-French tourists a brief history of the Basilica. The friendly, short-haired guide motioned to me that I should sit down with the rest of the group in those first few pews. She asked us, "Did you know that the Notre-Dame used to be just a small chapel?" The huge ceiling above our heads almost belied this fact, and we all stared up at the vast space above our heads because the guide made a sweeping upward motion with her arm. "Yes," she continued, "and by the way, my name is Gabrielle, you know, like the angel." This evoked chuckles. "Now we will just go around and everyone else can say their name and where they come from." There were people sitting next to me from Norway, from BC, from Michigan and California. "You know," the little guide went on, "you are in a place where many famous people have been." We did not respond but looked at her expectantly. We knew she would tell us who else had been there. And she did. "In 1873, Sir George Cartier's funeral was held here. And in the year 2000, Pierre Elliott Trudeau's funeral took place here as well. And in 1994, Celine Dion was married in this very church. The truth is that one hundred or more marriages and approximately one hundred and twenty baptisms are celebrated here every year. We have a special chapel attached to the Basilica. It is the Sacré-Coeur (Sacred Heart) Chapel, also known as the wedding chapel." We took all this information in silently. "And then, of course, in 1984, the Pope, that is, John Paul II, visited. He raised the status of Notre-Dame from church to basilica. He did this because of the church's historic, architectural and artistic value. It is very beautiful, do you not think so?" Heads nodded. Who could deny the architectural immensity of this place? A stooping figure hung on the cross straight overhead, surrounded by what I presumed to be the apostles. But above the cross was another representation – that of Mary being crowned by God. The guide was not long in pointing this out. "Mary has first place here," she said. "It is, after all, her church. That is why," and she motioned upwards again with her arm, "the ceiling is blue. Blue is her color, you know." We all gazed up once more. It was true. The magnificent ceiling was a sky-blue. The guide continued to recite a litany of cultural events which regularly took place in the Basilica and how the Montreal Symphony Orchestra had performed there several times. Then, after telling us we were free to walk around and browse, she excused herself and left us on our own. I never saw her nor any of that group again. A key conversation But then there is this story. A long time ago, a traveler reached the fork of an old Roman road. It was about suppertime and he, being quite weary, sat down. In the west, he could see a mountain and to the north was the city which today is called Nablus. There was a well nearby. In the present time, that well is surrounded by the walls of a convent, but at that moment it was quite out in the open. It was a deep well, almost 100 feet deep. The traveler was thirsty and when a woman appeared, a stranger, carrying a water-pitcher on her shoulder, he spoke to her. She had walked some ten minutes from the nearby city to get to the well and she was alone. "Give me a drink," the stranger said. His accent and pronunciation immediately told the woman that he was not native born to the area but that he was Jewish. And she was also quite aware that Jews were usually not of a kindly disposition towards people from her area. As a matter of fact, they wouldn't even use the same cutlery or drink from the same vessels. She was therefore puzzled by his request. "How is it that you," she countered his question, "a Jew, ask a drink of me, a Samaritan?" The stranger merely looked at her and then made use of her curiosity to further the conversation. He said, "If you knew the gift of God, and Who it is that said to you, 'Give me a drink,' you would have been the one to ask Him, and He would have given you living water." She said to Him, "Sir, you have no rope-bucket, and the well is deep; where do you get that living water? Surely, you are not greater, are you, than our father Jacob who gave us this well and he himself drank from it, and so did his sons and his flocks." To the west of the woman, Gerizim, the mountain of blessing, stood. And to the northeast of Gerizim stood Ebal, the mountain of the curse. And the stranger said to her, "Whoever drinks this water will thirst again; but whoever drinks the water that I shall give him will in no way be thirsty again forever, for that water which I shall give him will become in him a spring of water that keeps on bubbling up unto everlasting life." The woman, who had walked ten minutes in order to get to the well and who had to walk ten minutes down and back each day in order to satisfy her physical needs, immediately yearned for this water of which the stranger spoke. "Sir, give me this water," she pleaded, "that I may not get thirsty or have to keep on coming so far to draw water." The stranger responded, "Go, call your husband and come back here." Impressed by his friendliness, and by His interest in her life, the woman, who was usually avoided by the people of her town, responded. In offering the woman a few moment of His time, a moment which led to a taste of eternity, Jesus begins to quench her inner thirst. Spurgeon commented that Christ has different doors for entering into different people’s souls. Into some, He enters by the way of understanding; into many, by the way of the affections; to some, He comes by the way of fear; to others, by the way of hope; and to this woman He came by the way of her conscience. All sorts of conversations to be had After Jesus' encounter with the Samaritan woman, He told His disciples that the fields were white with harvest. He intimates that there are numerous multitudes ready for them to meet. He declares that there are countless people ready to be spoken to, ready to be brought into the kingdom of God. By knowing Him and by wearing the “so very useful” armor He gives us to wear, we also are able to meet with, speak to and listen to at least some of the host of villagers, innkeepers, musicians, businessmen, housewives, gender-lost and value-lost people we will meet on our way. Jesus never saw the Samaritan woman again. Or did He?...

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When “helping” kids hurts them

Why the generation accessing the most mental therapy is the most mentally unhealthy  ***** As the old saying goes, “to a hammer, everything looks like a nail.” Among the hammers today is psychotherapy, and too many wielding it are convinced that every human problem is a nail. However, the unprecedented rise of mental health problems in Generation Z suggests that the overuse of this tool has done as much harm as good. In a bold new book, Abigail Shrier confronts the idea of psychology as an all-consuming ideology. In Bad Therapy: Why the Kids Aren’t Growing Up, Shrier argues that much of what is now taken for granted about psychological and emotional “trauma” is wrong and has left millions of young adults more “traumatized” than if they’d had no therapy at all. This thesis aligns with that of her previous book Irreversible Damage, which exposed the reckless push to medically transition gender-dysphoric kids, especially girls. This push has been driven by the mental health industry. In Bad Therapy, Shrier points out the many indications that the whole approach of our therapy-obsessed age is awry. Most obvious is that despite living in one of the most objectively prosperous and safe times in human history, our young people are, en masse, mentally sicker and emotionally sadder than ever. In fact, over 40% of young adults have a mental health diagnosis, twice the rate of the general population. So, the generation most treated for psychological wellbeing is doing the worst psychologically. How did we get to this point? In a podcast with former New York Times columnist Bari Weiss, Shrier told the story of her grandmother, Bess, who grew up during the Great Depression. Bess was orphaned and so malnourished that her teeth grew in gray. She then contracted polio and spent a year in an iron lung. Yet, despite her suffering, she managed to recover, get married and have kids, go to law school, and become one of the first female judges in her state. She was also, as Shrier puts it, “One of the most optimistic and can-do women” she’s ever met. Today, doctors, psychiatrists, counselors, and teachers would tell Bess, because of her “trauma,” to lower her expectations for what she could achieve. They’d constantly watch her, waiting for confirmation of her permanent damage. Eventually, Bess, like millions of children today, may have even believed them. The central thesis of Bad Therapy is that the anti-adversity worldview that has been embraced by everyone from therapists to parents to self-appointed TikTok influencers hurts children. Therapy has become an ideology, an entire way of looking at life. Experiences that previous generations understood as a part of the human condition are diagnosed and “treated” and, in the process, a generation has been robbed of resilience, responsibility, and character—things that, as Nvidia CEO Jensen Huang recently noted, only come from facing adversity and, at times, failing. As she told Weiss, Shrier is “no more anti-psychotherapy than… anti-chemotherapy.” Interventions are necessary sometimes but, like chemotherapy, mental health treatments carry risks. Shrier believes we must begin taking these risks seriously, especially when it comes to the youngest patients who have neither the experience nor the authority to argue when adults tell them, “You’re sick.” For Christians who understand that human beings are more than matter that can be molded and medicated, the need for a book like this is even more obvious. Divine revelation and millennia of insight suggest that much of what passes for “psychological trauma” today is spiritual brokenness. Spiritual healing can take the form of counseling and medication, but to put it simply, no amount of psychotherapy alleviates our need for a Savior. In the meantime, Abigail Shrier has, once again, launched a cultural conversation that is a vital corrective. Not only can it help curb the excesses of bad therapy and pop psychology and make us better, wiser parents, but a book like this can help us rethink the true complexities of who and what we are as human beings. For believers, it is a chance to show what it looks like to live redemptively amid the groaning of this fallen world while using all the tools at our disposal. This Breakpoint was first posted to Breakpoint.org March 20, 2024, and is reprinted here with their gracious permission. We're sharing it because Christians need to understand where and why secular counseling can fall so short. The world understands Man as simply matter, and sees Man’s purpose as self-actualization, or perhaps the pursuit of our own happiness. Our "Owner’s manual," the Bible, describes Man’s nature as both body and spirit, and our purpose as being built to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. So, secular psychology could have tips and tricks and drugs to modify our behavior and feelings, but it misunderstands Man at the foundational level. No wonder then, that some of its help hurts instead. If this article caught your interest, then you may want to sign up (see the subscribe button on the top right of the page) to get their free daily commentaries delivered right to your inbox....

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What makes a person instantly unattractive?

I asked this question on a Facebook page for secular women over 60 years of age: “What makes a person instantly unattractive?” I was intrigued by the breadth of answers, but not surprised at those at the top of the list. Within two days I received more than 150 answers. There were trends – answers could be grouped together in 12 different characteristics, so I compiled what I had and ordered them according to the number of answers that were received for each characteristic. Why undertake such a study? I did it for a couple of reasons: A desire to share Christ – In this data, I was hearing from mainly non-Christians. So what types of behavior might make us immediately repugnant to them? Let’s take a look at ourselves and determine whether we are acting in loving ways in order to share Christ. A desire for friendship – Many people are lonely, and some have difficulty building friendships. While it isn’t always our fault, it might be helpful to compare these unattractive traits and prayerfully analyze whether we might find room in ourselves for improvement. Being attractive Proverbs 16:21 says: “The wise of heart is called discerning, and sweetness of speech increases persuasiveness.” Here is a clue towards being a witness for our Lord. And Peter tells us in 1 Peter 3:15-16: “But in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect, having a good conscience, so that, when you are slandered, those who revile your good behavior in Christ may be put to shame.” Being unattractive Let’s take a look at the top twelve characteristics that make a person instantly unattractive, in the order of the number of votes received: Bad attitude Potty mouth/cursing Smoking Body odor/poor hygiene/dirty or unkempt clothes Bad breath Arrogant/entitled/rude Lying Boasting/bragging Complaining/ungrateful spirit Being unkind Bad manners Being bossy/loud/yelling To be honest, years ago it never occurred to me that people might dislike my loudness and yelling, or what I eventually discerned to be my bossiness. These are the top twelve characteristics that may make us instantly unattractive to other people. Where might we improve? Is it possible that some of these characteristics are making us less lovely to be around? Do we come across in any of these ways to our neighbors, coworkers, fellow church members, or prospective friends? How is your attitude when life isn’t going as you would prefer? Working on it Think about 1 Corinthians 13: “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.” This description of real love is a tall order, but it is not beyond what we can learn through the power of the Holy Spirit working in our lives. Without love, we are a noisy gong and a clanging cymbal; we are nothing. This chapter goes on to get rid of nearly half the list immediately: arrogance (6), boasting (8), unkindness (10), and being bossy (12). It pretty well covers bad attitudes (1), lying (7), and complaining (9) as well. Manners (11) are just a culturally agreed upon way to show respect and love for one another. For example, no one wants to watch someone’s food roll around inside his mouth, or be commanded without a please and thank-you. In regards to potty mouth/cursing (2) and hygiene (4), we could say that these come under the law of kindness as well. If we put others first instead of ourselves, we will consider the language that we use, and not make others uncomfortable. We will “do unto others as we would have them do unto us” by not causing others to have to put up with a stench in our presence. A smoker can at least be courteous around those who are sensitive to the odor of tobacco (3). And we can make the effort to clean our teeth and mouths as well as possible (5) to consider the sensitivities of others. Conclusion None of us enjoy being around people who exhibit unattractive characteristics. Now that we know what many other people find obnoxious, we can all take a look at ourselves to see how we can become lovelier....

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A lament for our nation

Lament is not a common word today. It is rare to hear of lamentation in our secular culture, and even within the Church we don’t often speak of lament. And yet, I believe lament is one of the most important – and biblical – postures that we can take as Christians in the public square today. Why lament? Consider our situation. We see (at least) 87,000 abortions every year here in Canada. Over 13,000 died by euthanasia last year, and that number grows every year. We’ve seen our fundamental freedoms eroded. Conscience rights for health care workers aren’t adequately protected. Our governments have redefined marriage by liberalizing divorce laws, recognizing same-sex marriages, and even starting to legitimize polyamorous relationships. The entire concepts of motherhood and fatherhood are fractured by our country’s policies on in vitro fertilization and surrogacy, and jurisdictions like Ontario are recognizing that kids can have many (not just two) parents. Hundreds of kids are pursuing medical gender transitioning, rejecting the bodies that God has given them. Counseling children to love the body and identity they have been given has been outlawed by conversion therapy legislation. Human trafficking, pornography, and prostitution are rampant in society. And our country, ostensibly still founded on the principle “that recognizes the supremacy of God,” has insisted that all cultures and all religions by-and-large are equal. Sin and brokenness are pervasive in all aspects of Canadian society. Let’s consider some potential unbiblical options of how to respond to this sin before coming to why we need to lament for our nation. Unbiblical responses 1. Do not grumble One response – the most unbiblical response – is to grumble. We can be tempted to complain to God, to each other, and to ourselves. But complaining is antithetical to the Christian life. The Israelites of the Old Testament were famous for grumbling. They complained about bitter water or a lack of water (Ex. 15:24, 17:3), about a lack of food (Ex. 16:2), their misfortunes (Num. 11:1), the strength of the Canaanites (Num. 14:2), and their leadership (Num. 16:11, 41; 17:5). In most of these instances, God punished His people. He had just brought them out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm and, rather than worshipping and praising Him, they complained. Rather than “grumbling or disputing,” Paul calls on Christians to be “blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world” (Phil. 2:15). We confess that “it is impossible for those grafted into Christ by true faith not to produce fruits of gratitude” (HC Q&A 64). 2. No need to fear Another response to a bleak political situation is fear and anxiety, but this too is an unbiblical response. We may fear persecution from our culture, tyranny from our government, or censure from media companies. But in Philippians 4, Paul instructs followers of Christ, “do not be anxious about anything.” Christ Himself commands us “do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on” or about anything else for that matter (Matt. 6:25-34; Luke 12:22-31). The most frequent command found in Scripture is “do not be afraid.” 3. Do not be angry Another common response to this sin-filled world is anger. Anger can be a powerful motivator to inspire people to speak up and to act. And, unlike complaining or anxiety, there is some biblical justification to be angry (e.g., Eph. 4:26). When people sin and transgress the law of the LORD, there is a reason for righteous anger. Jesus Himself became angry on occasion with a righteous anger (Mark 3:1-6 and Mark 10:13-16). Scripture, however, portrays human anger as a negative phenomenon in almost every instance. Proverbs often counsels the wise and the righteous to refrain from anger (Prov. 14:29, 15:18, 16:32, 19:11, 22:24, 29:22). The apostle Paul commands believers to put away anger on several occasions (2 Cor. 12:20; Gal. 5:20; Eph. 4:31; Col. 3:8; 1 Tim. 2:8). Our fallen anger makes us susceptible to sin. (Perhaps why Eph. 4:26 says “be angry and do not sin.”) Anger can easily lead to hasty and thoughtless words and actions. Perhaps this is why James admonishes believers to be “slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God” (James 1:19-20). Like fire, anger can be a beneficial and God glorifying tool when used in the right way, yet it can easily grow out of control and cause great spiritual (not to mention temporal!) damage. So instead of complaining, fearing, or being angry about the state of our nation, a more biblical response is lament. An example of lament Scripture is full of laments, but the best example of lamentation flows from the prophet Jeremiah and the people of Judah in exile. Put yourself in their shoes. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Clear your mind. Imagine you are a young Jew living around 609 BC. You and your people are led by King Josiah. Your life revolves around a divinely inspired calendar of feasts and sacrifices. In fact, you just celebrated a Passover the likes of which hadn’t been observed since the days of the judges. You observe a weekly Sabbath day of rest, a year of Sabbath rest of the land every seven years, and a year of Jubilee every 50 years. You periodically visit the glorious temple of Solomon in Jerusalem, perhaps the most ornate, beautiful, and costly structure on earth. There the Levite singers and musicians make music to God and the priests offer sweet incense to the LORD. God has promised that a descendent of David would sit on the throne of Judah forever. In fact, the current king “turned to the Lord with all his heart and with all his soul and with all his might” so that there was never a king that came before him or after him that pursued the LORD with such fervour (2 Kings 22-23). Life is good. During your lifetime, all that comes crashing down. The Egyptian Pharoah Neco kills godly King Josiah, hauls his successor, King Jehoahaz, in chains to Egypt, exacts a heavy tribute from Judah, and sets up a puppet king, Jehoiakim, on the throne. After a stint under Egyptian oppression, King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon puts your country under tribute. When King Jehoiakim rebels against Babylon, bands of Chaldeans, Syrians, Moabites, and Ammonites begin raiding your country. King Nebuchadnezzar comes back with a vengeance, besieges and conquers Jerusalem, carries away all the treasures of the temple and the king’s house, and carries away all the royal family, all officials, all the mighty men of valor, all the smiths and craftsmen, and 10,000 more captives. Only the poor remain under another puppet king, Zedekiah. Thankfully, the temple, the center of Jewish life, still stands. But your religious leadership pollutes this temple. Then Zedekiah rebels against Babylon too, prompting Nebuchadnezzar to return again to besiege Jerusalem and trigger a terrible famine in the city. When the city falls, Nebuchadnezzar slaughters Zedekiah’s sons in front of him, gouges out Zedekiah’s eyes, and carries him off to Egypt. But at least the temple still stands. A few years later, Nebuchadnezzar attacks Jerusalem a third time, destroying every building in Jerusalem, including the temple, and tearing down the walls. Even the poor people who were originally left in Jerusalem are carried off to Babylon, except for the poorest of the poor who are left to work the land.  And even after all this, the poorest of the poor rebel against Nebuchadnezzar, murder the governor, and flee in fear to Egypt, the very place that God had led them out of slavery 890 years before. And so, the land lays desolate. Your nation is utterly destroyed. Your whole religion revolving around the temple, sacrifices, and feasts is impossible. There is no descendant of David seemingly on the throne. It’s a horrific state of affairs. What was the response of the Jews carried off to Babylon? They responded with lament. We get a glimpse of this in Psalm 137: “By the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and wept, when we remembered Zion.” But the main lamentation over the exile is written by the prophet Jeremiah. While there isn’t a book of Complaining, of Anxiety, or of Anger in Scripture, there is a book of Lamentations. For almost the entire book, Jeremiah recounts and laments the destruction of Jerusalem. The book opens, How lonely sits the city that was full of people! How like a widow has she become, she who was great among the nations! She who was a princess among the provinces has become a slave. She weeps bitterly in the night with tears on her cheeks; Among all her lovers she has none to comfort her; All her friends have dealt treacherously with her; They have become her enemies. Judah has gone into exile because of affliction and hard servitude; She dwells now among the nations but finds no resting place; Her pursuers have all overtaken her in the midst of her distress. What is a lament? Lament, properly speaking, is a uniquely Christian activity. It isn’t complaining, though it certainly recounts all the evils of this present age. It isn’t anxiety, although the situation certainly seems bleak and full of uncertainty. And it isn’t primarily angry, despite the calls for judgement on Babylon found in the final verses of Psalm 137. And lament isn’t just mourning what has been lost. A lament has hope. That’s why, smack dab in the middle of the book of Lamentations and in the middle of perhaps the most hopeless period of Judah’s existence, Jeremiah confesses, “But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: the steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness” (3:21-23). One hundred and one years ago, Thomas Chisholm plucked these words out of Lamentations to create the hymn Great Is Thy Faithfulness. It is a beautiful hymn of hope and praise. But it helps to remember its scriptural context. God’s faithfulness is wonderful indeed when we consider how He changes not; how all nature witnesses to His great faithfulness, mercy, and love; and how His presence cheers and guides us, as the hymn’s verses recount. But those truths aren’t the context for Jeremiah’s confession when he says, “great is thy faithfulness.” Lamentation over the destruction of Judah and the captivity of the Jews (Jeremiah is in captivity himself) is the context. God’s faithfulness is always important, but it tastes the sweetest when it is juxtaposed with the evils of this world. Lamentation today Politically, culturally, socially, economically, religiously – really any way you can think of – we are in a far better position than Judah was at the start of the exile. As we’ve already recounted, we certainly face many evils in this dark world that tempt us to respond with complaints, fear, or anger. But I think that the best response is lament. We can lament instead of complaining about the failure of political leaders to follow God’s will. We can lament rather than fear the cultural hostility to orthodox Christianity. We can lament rather than rage about the injustices in the world. And lament does more than just look around at others. It confesses our own wrongdoings, remembers the faithfulness of our sovereign God, and prays for His intervention. And so, I lament for our nation. And I’ll do it with a song, a Jeremiah lament-style version of Great Is Thy Faithfulness: O LORD, our nation reviles and forgets Thee. We have departed from thy righteous law. We deserve judgement and none of thy favour, But I call this to mind and so have hope: Great is thy faithfulness! Great is thy faithfulness! Morning by morning new mercies I see: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases – Great is thy faithfulness, LORD, unto me! Levi Minderhoud is the BC manager of ARPA Canada....

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Complaining: our national pastime

Long ago, people were taught not to complain. In addition, being selfless, giving, and kind was applauded as the way that a person should live. I’m not certain when the tide changed, but there is generally an attitude now of “me first” that is promoted, approved, and endorsed. And we Christians even fall prey to this worldly behavior at times. It is so prevalent that we don’t even recognize it for the sin it is. Just a half twist on the truth I remember noticing self-centeredness when it became popular to say, “‘Charity begins at home, so I need to give to myself first.” The original saying, “Charity begins at home,” meant that learning to love others and put others first is an action that needs to be learned within the family unit. Then I noticed that “Love your brother as you love yourself” (Matt. 22:39) started being used in a way that disregarded Ephesians 5:29 which tells us “…no one ever hated his own flesh, but nourishes and cherishes it.” Instead, some people started saying, “See, before we can love anyone else we first have to learn to love ourselves right.” Add to this the magazines that encourage women in particular to look out for themselves first (and even the crazy commercials where family members shout, “Leggo my Eggo” as they grab each other’s breakfast treat) and we have a society that thinks this is the correct way to think. Root of complaining When we place ourselves first, this entitlement can have us thinking that nothing should ever go wrong in our lives. Appliances and cars shouldn’t break down, kids shouldn’t argue, milk shouldn’t be spilled, traffic should never be jammed, and other drivers should never drive “wrong.” Our health should always be perfect, and our boss should give us praise and a raise, and our family and friends should consistently lavish loving attention on us (unless, wait, maybe they are putting themselves first also! Hmmm). But here we are in the real world, where things don’t always go the ideal way that we would prefer. And so we hold a complaint-a-thon: “Let me tell you all the things that I didn’t like in my last few hours (or days, or weeks).” Then we launch into how everything stinks. Often our recounting causes us to monopolize the conversation, believing that it’s interesting to the hearers. Our hearers, often enough, are patiently waiting to give their own account of their sufferings until the entire circle of friends is comparing or one-upping levels of discomfort. It’s quite the popular thing to do. When we complain, we are talking only about our own reactions to the world around us. It’s self-focused and self-centered, and generally expresses a lack of gratitude to and trust in the Sovereign God who brought those circumstances to us. Don’t do it The crux of the matter is that God very clearly commands (not suggests!) us not to complain. The apostle Paul says in Philippians 2:14-15: “Do all things without grumbling or disputing, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world.” The root cause of complaining is a lack of trust in God’s providential care for us. Complaining means that we, His sheep, are essentially saying, “Hey, Shepherd, I don’t like the trial that you sent to me today.” Proverbs 3:5-6 teaches us, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” We will not always understand why we face circumstances that we do not like. But when we pray about them, the Lord will assure us that He has everything under control – His path just looks different than ours did. What we think complaining does for us Dave Stuart Jr., in The Case Against Complaining, suggests that we complain because we think venting is therapeutic and will make us feel better. We might even think that it builds the “fellowship of the offended” because we are all in this together. We need to carefully consider what our deceitful hearts tell us to do, as it may not actually be helpful to us or to others who have to listen to us. There are better, more positive ways to build camaraderie, because “complaining wastes time and warps our heart, making us feel powerless.” Will Bowen has an excellent TED Talk entitled “A World Without Complaining.” In it, he states five reasons why people complain so much: To get attention: complaining seems to help them to feel connected to other people. It’s ego reinforcement. To remove responsibility: complaining may get them out of doing a task that they don’t want to do. To inspire envy (or brag): the purpose of their complaining is to impress other people with their superiority in how much more they have suffered.  To make themselves more powerful: they gain support by complaining to people with similar opinions. To excuse poor performance: people complain instead of taking blame for not completing an assigned task. “It’s not my fault, because someone else….” They complain to avoid accountability. Results of complaining Research from Stanford University has shown that complaining negatively affects your brain and your body! According to Dr. Travis Bradberry, Ph.D. and author of Emotional Intelligence: Complaining actually rewires your brain for negativity, or in other words, what you practice, you perfect: “When you repeat a behavior, your neurons branch out to each other to ease the flow of information… So your neurons grow closer together and the connections between them become more permanent. Scientists like to describe this process as ‘Neurons that fire together, wire together.’ Repeated complaining rewires your brain to make future complaining more likely. Over time, you find it’s easier to be negative than to be positive, regardless of what’s happening.” Complaining becomes an entrenched habit! Complaining shrinks the hippocampus – the area of the brain critical to problem solving and intelligent thought. Keep in mind that the hippocampus is one of the primary brain areas destroyed by Alzheimer’s. Complaining causes your body to release the stress hormone cortisol, which shifts you into fight-or-flight mode. It raises your blood pressure and blood sugar, impairing your immune system and making you more susceptible to depression, digestive problems, sleep issues, physical/mental exhaustion, and heart disease. None of this should be a surprise to Christians. Prov. 17:22 states, “A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.” And what did Paul say are the fruit of the Holy Spirit within us? “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.” (Gal. 5:22-23) If we go back a couple of verses in Galatians 5, we might place complaining under “the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit.” Perhaps our complaints might stem from enmity, strife, jealousy, fits of anger, rivalries, dissensions, or divisions. The solution to complaining So how do we counter a complaining spirit, especially if that’s become our habit? Develop an attitude of gratitude. Ps. 106 says, “O give thanks unto the LORD, for He is good, for His steadfast love endures forever.” The apostle Paul tells us in Phil. 4:6: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” You can add to this numerous other verses and Heidelberg Catechism sections as well! When is constructive complaining okay? Not all complaining is wrong, of course. How can we improve if we won’t acknowledge that something isn’t the way it should be, or could be? However, we should only engage in solution-oriented constructive complaining. And this should only be done when you truly have something to complain about. Constructive complaining also means raising the concern with the appropriate person and asking for help with finding a solution. For example, if your son keeps leaving his shoes in the middle of the foyer, what good does it do to complain about it to all your friends? Sit down and work out a solution with your son. Your bank made an error on your account? Go talk to your banker. Feeling achy and tired for the past two days? Talk to your doctor or take the steps you already know will help you (specific exercises, sleep, vitamins, etc.). When there is an offense between Christians, we are to take the complaint directly to the offender (as scary as that may seem – God can give you the courage!). We read in Matt. 18:15-17: “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained your brother. But if he does not listen, take one or two others along with you, that every charge may be established by the evidence of two or three witnesses.” If there is no resolution, then the complaint can be escalated to take another person or two – possibly an elder – with you to plead your case. Note that this does not include telling everyone else you know about the problem! Good complaints can begin with gratitude When you make an appropriate complaint, start it with something positive first. For instance, if your bank makes an error, say, “I have been happily banking here for 15 years, and wish to continue, but recently there was a problem.” To your son you might say, “Son, I really appreciate that you always hang up your coat and backpack on the hooks. But yesterday I nearly tripped over your shoes that were in the middle of the foyer.” Be specific. Don’t dredge up everything that has ever happened in your experience with a person. If an employee was rude to you, describe specifically what the employee did that was rude. End on a positive note, such as, “I’d like to work this out together.” Please note: if you complain to anyone else, you are likely aiming to get attention, remove responsibility, brag, gain power, or excuse your poor performance. Dealing with other people who complain Dr. Bradberry states: “Since human beings are inherently social, our brains naturally and unconsciously mimic the moods of those around us, particularly people we spend a great deal of time with. This process is called neuronal mirroring, and it’s the basis for our ability to feel empathy…You need to be cautious about spending time with people who complain about everything. Complainers want people to join their pity party so that they can feel better about themselves.” This is likely too rash of a solution, because we must spend time with our family, friends, and brothers and sisters in the Lord. But you can see how it’s easy to fall into the trap of complaining when others are doing it. Instead, be thoughtful and brave! Think about the direction that a conversation is going, and then redirect it to something more positive. Start talking about specifically how God has blessed you lately, or what you heard in the sermon that really helped you. Dr. Bradberry suggests that once you have worked on your own habit of complaining, you can help others to improve their negative focus. That seems more sensible advice, akin to taking the log out of your own eyes before trying to get the speck in someone else’s (Matt. 7:3-5). Then do for them as you would want done for you: listen for the need that is being expressed – perhaps the person complains because he feels unheard. Then don’t try to solve his problem. Instead, offer only a few words of sympathy and some encouragement. You might reframe the situation, share information that might be helpful, ask for solutions, or call it out as what it is: grumbling. Then redirect the conversation, talking about positive things. The apostle Paul tells us to: “Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.” (Col. 3:12-13). If someone has a legitimate complaint against us, we must apologize. If we have a complaint against them, we must be ready to forgive. If the complaint is mis-directed to us, we should encourage them to go to the appropriate party and solve the problem, not just gossip about it. Learn to shine If we justify complaining, instead of confessing it as sin, we will reach a point where it is our default setting. It will feel natural to do it. But we are not stuck! We have the Holy Spirit within us, whose power we can call upon when the temptation strikes us – daily – to complain. We can ask for forgiveness and start noticing our complaints or ask our family members to do so (light-heartedly, perhaps). We can ask our omnipotent Lord to help us to stop it so that we will be “the children of God without blemish in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world.” Sharon L. Bratcher is the author of a collection of 45 RP articles entitled: “Soup and Buns: Nourishment from God’s Word for Your Daily Struggles.” To purchase this book, contact her at [email protected]....

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Behind the scenes: the editorial cast and crew of RP

When my class did job shadowing for a couple days, it wasn’t hard for me to answer what I’m interested in. If you were to stop by my house almost anytime, you’d find me in my room, behind my laptop, working on a story. Fiction writing enthralled me when I was just four years old, and I’ve been writing ever since. So who did I want to follow around for two days to experience what it’s like to work in their field? I quickly scribbled out writing/editing as the first thing on my paper. I got the opportunity to learn about writing and editing at the office of Mark Penninga, the executive director of RP and also my uncle. I showed up that first morning eager to see what he would be able to show and tell me about his work. Now if I’m not writing, I’m probably watching and analyzing films. I’ve seen over 45 hours of The Hobbit behind-the-scenes footage, which is why you won’t be surprised when I compare Reformed Perspective to the behind-the-scenes of a movie. So what really goes on behind the scenes at Reformed Perspective? Who are the editing cast and crew? During my job shadowing experience, I got to conduct some interviews and dig a little deeper into the answer to those questions. It all began in 1982 Jon Dykstra is the editor of RP. The organization was started in 1982 as a monthly magazine and relied on subscriptions to stay afloat, printing about 1,500 copies of each issue. Much has changed since then, but the mission remains the same: “to explore what God’s up to anywhere and everywhere,” explains Jon. While others have been part of the crew for a year or two, Jon joined in 1999, back when the magazine sometimes still received hand-written submissions. Both easy-going and spirited, he is one of only two full-time workers at the magazine. He started out as a part-time editor, but his passion for the project and increased workload led him to where he is today. While there’s lots of variety in his job, he mainly edits other people’s articles and often writes book reviews from his home office in Lynden, WA. For fifteen years he was the sole full-time magazine staff member (talk about tiring!) yet he enjoys his work, although maybe not the overflow of emails he deals with every day. “Words have such flavors,” he explains, “that when you’re writing someone and you’re not talking to them, there’s a lot of different ways they can misunderstand what you’re saying.” Words do have flavor. Jon is a big fan of wearing shirts with interesting pictures or phrases on them, such as a saying to defend the unborn, to get the conversation going. For over 23 years, he has been riding the RP roller-coaster of ups and downs, but the pressing need for articles written from a Reformed angle and the great opportunities with RP kept him motivated. Also, “It’s just fun … God is powerful, He’s gracious, and He’s just fun,” says Jon. His experience has led him to give this insightful advice for aspiring writers/editors: Appreciate getting beat up (find someone who is willing to critique you), be an observant listener, it’s about stealing (imitating) from the best, and finally, write, write, and write some more! Big changes; same mission Mark Penninga is the executive director of Reformed Perspective. He’s filled with dedication and passion for the mission of RP. He joined the organization when it was struggling financially, coming in with ideas on how to get the magazine back on its feet. Now, RP prints about 10,400 copies each issue and is available not only as a magazine, but as a website, podcasts, videos, and more. The concept of being online helps fulfill the idea of being a light to the world (Matt. 5:14). He has plenty of thoughtful advice for those who are into writing and editing, such as: Writing is a tool, meant to fill a need and to serve a bigger purpose. As Christians, that purpose should be an expression of love for our neighbor and for God; we have “a message of love … writing is a means to communicate that hope.” When motivated by a purpose, your writing will show more passion, conviction, and meaning. Don’t expect to get it right on the first try, rather, keep at it. “Try, try, and try again,” he says. Turn off your distractions and focus on writing. A phenomenal amount of work goes into writing articles for RP. Some of the articles are submitted by people like you and me, while most are written by the crew. Imagine sitting behind a desk for hours, researching by means of the Internet, books, and phone calls, to create an accurate article from, as you can probably guess, a Reformed perspective. As I am writing this, my uncle is sitting in the room next to me, typing away. He’s in his cozy office in Smithers, BC, sipping a warm cup of tea from a large “Reformed Perspective” mug. Gentle strains of music float through the air, a mix of worship songs and background piano. Every once in a while he takes a break to gaze out of the large window at the snow-dusted peaks of Hudson Bay Mountain, enjoying the afternoon sunlight streaming through the glass. It takes a team But Mark and Jon aren’t the only ones breaking a sweat for the company. Marty Van Driel balances his full-time job as the CEO for a trucking business in Bellingham, WA, with being the assistant editor for RP. According to Marty, “the greatest joy is when it’s done.” I think most writers can testify to that. Marty loves telling stories to his grandkids, and says he especially loves telling stories in a way that relates to how we can serve God as Reformed Christians. To ambitious writers like myself, Marty has two pieces of advice: Writers write. As he phrases it, don’t get “stuck in a brain fog.” Discipline is important. Set a goal to write every workday and then stick with that goal. His second piece of advice is this: Keep yourself grounded in God’s Word. There is nothing more important than the Bible and it’s crucial to keep this in mind. “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ” (Col. 3: 23-24). About a year ago, Jan Broersma from Langley, BC, joined the team at RP. Markings of red and blue cover her papers as she circles punctuation errors and notes details to doublecheck. She is the warm, friendly copy-editor for RP. Copy-editors focus on the technical, like tone, grammar, and factual correctness. Jan has always enjoyed writing, and decided to pursue a B.A. in English with some Creative Writing after high school, and then worked as a writer and editor before having a family. When her youngest child started Kindergarten, she had more time on her hands, spoke to Mark, and was able to get a job working part-time for RP. She loves the variety of the job. Here is her advice to aspiring writers/editors: explore professional writing programs at college if you can, and if writing is what you love to do and is a talent God has given you, then it’s worth pursuing. Trust God will guide you. Conclusion After a peek behind the scenes of Reformed Perspective, I’ve realized it has come a long way since it first started. The only way that is possible is through generous donations and a hard-working group of people. The editorial team alone is composed of four dedicated individuals each using their unique, God-given talents to praise His name. So open up that magazine on the coffee table and you can learn so much about God, His kingdom, and how we, as stewards, are to live. And… cut!...

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Keeping Christ in Christmas: 12 ideas for honoring God in our Christmas festivities

There’s no more exciting time than Christmas. Reflecting on the birth of Christ, gifts, lights, decorations, music, special foods, and time spent with family and friends cause most Christians to anticipate some “good times ahead!” Ah, but since it is supposed to be exciting, and everyone is kindly wishing us a very merry time, we have to be careful to manage our expectations. All the anticipation can raise expectations to unreachable levels – we may begin to think that we have a “right” to a perfect Christmas. Then we’re setting ourselves up for disappointment over the gift or invitation we didn’t receive, the people who didn’t come over, the lack of enthusiasm over gifts we presented, or the lack of cooperation with all the cooking and cleanup! Poor us! Instead, as God’s chosen ones, let’s take the time to meditate ahead of time on Colossians 3:12-17 and “get dressed” for the holiday season by putting on “compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience.” Let us bear with and forgive one another, and put on love which leads to harmony. Let us “let the peace of Christ dwell in us” as we celebrate Him! How? By immersing ourselves in God’s Word and singing Psalms and hymns, meditating on His great gifts to us. Resist the temptation to overdo it. Don’t exhaust yourself to the point of complaining. Let there be a balance so that you don’t end up tired, angry, resentful or poor. As you think about how you might spend the Christmas season honoring Jesus Christ whose birth and very life we are celebrating, consider including some of the following suggestions that I’ve gathered.  Suggestions Emphasize giving instead of receiving. As Acts 20:35 tells us, Jesus said that it is more blessed to give than to receive. Instead of asking “What do you want for Christmas?” ask “What are you going to give so and so?” Some activities are: Let young ones choose gifts for family members and teachers at the dollar store – even if some of their choices amuse you. Support a Christian ministry – let the kids earn money working at home or for others, and give it, so that they can feel the joy of donating as well. Collect food for the needy. Give of your time to help the sick or those who are overwhelmed with trials. Assist in a soup kitchen. Give a surprise gift of service to family members, neighbors, friends – and don’t forget your pastor and his family. Have a craft or baking day, perhaps with friends, and give some of the delicious results to others. Be honest about Santa. It’s wrong to lie to your children, especially about an ageless, supernaturally powerful, unbelievably generous, and generally invisible being, who “knows when you’ve been good or bad.” So let them know who is giving them the gifts. The kids will be thrilled that Mom, Dad, Oma, Opa and Aunt Susie showed their love by giving them something special. Consider opening gifts on a different day. That might be Sinterklaas (December 5), or Epiphany (January 6); this could help to keep Christmas Day as a time to worship and glorify our Lord. But note, if you do open gifts on Christmas Day, one thing you don’t want to do is to make the children sit through a devotional while in their little hearts they are eagerly staring at a pile of soon-to-be-unwrapped presents. There’s a time for everything, and it’s fine to let them cherish their anticipation and excitement rather than expecting them to obediently sit through a reading to which they are not even paying attention. Celebrate Advent. Advent means “coming” and begins a specified number of days before Christmas Eve to build anticipation for the actual Christmas day. If you buy an Advent calendar, avoid the distracting ones with candy or cutesy Santas/TV cartoon characters on them. Plan a devotional reading and song for each of the days. Teach your children how to use a Bible dictionary/handbook or the Logos online Bible aids to dig out facts for themselves to present to the whole family at the next dinnertime. Topics might include: Angels – Learn what the Bible says about angels. Some suggested verses are: Matt. 4:11, 24:31, 26:53; Luke 2:10-12, 22:43; 1 Tim. 3:16; Acts 1:9-11; 2 Thess. 1:7; Rev. 7; Ps. 91:11-12. There are useful books on the subject that could also be your guide. Who was Augustus Caesar? – Was he related to Julius Caesar? Make a chart of the rulers from the New Testament era. What is a census and why did Augustus want to do one? Make a family tree together – your own “census.” Where is Bethlehem? – Study maps of Palestine in the time of Christ together, and compare the map to a current one. Bethlehem still exists! Use Google maps to look up the distance from Nazareth to Bethlehem. If the weather is good, take a family hike and compare it to how far Joseph and Mary had to travel. Christmas carols – Learn the stories behind some of the carols and examine the words together to determine which are biblical and which are just sung for fun because they are a tradition (Little Drummer Boy, for instance – would a newborn want a kid to play a drum next to his little ears?). Learn some new-to-you Christmas carols – There are probably some in the Book of Praise or hymnbook that you do not know. Jesus as the “light of the world” (John 8:12) – If you’re putting up Christmas lights, then read/talk together about how Jesus is the light of the world. What does that mean? How can we be lights as well? Make a list of the names/titles of Jesus and talk about each one – Write down a dozen on good cardstock cards, put a number on the front of each, with the name inside and a verse to go with it. Talk about shepherds – What was it like to be a shepherd? Of all the people in the world, it was the shepherds who were told to go to Bethlehem and see the Christ child. Talk about how Jesus later said, “I am the good Shepherd gives His life for the sheep” and “My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish” (John 10:11; 27-28). Have a treasure hunt looking for hidden treats and then talk about how Jesus is the Good Shepherd who goes out searching for His sheep. 12 Days of Christmas – Historians disagree about whether this song was put together to aid children in remembering catechism or aspects of the Christian faith. However, there is enough basis that you can choose to look up the details online and view the song this way if you so desire. The Twelve Days of Christmas are supposed to start on Dec. 25 and end on the evening of Jan. 5th. It was traditionally celebrated that the Wise Men arrived with gifts on Jan. 6. What are frankincense and myrrh? – Research some ideas as to why these were given to Jesus along with gold. Christmas-related items – Include information that is interesting/possibly meaningful about items such as the possible Christian symbolism of the candy cane, the use of red and green (symbol of blood and everlasting life), and the circular Christmas wreath symbolizing the eternal nature of Christ and His endless love. Let each family member read a portion of the Christmas story from Luke and Matthew. Take turns choosing carols or Psalms to sing. Host a party. Invite family members but also consider inviting single folks, neighbors, or small families who have no relatives nearby. While large gatherings can be fun, smaller ones lend themselves to better conversations; why not have 2 or 3 small gatherings instead? Go caroling at a hospital, assisted-living home, or to various shut-ins’ homes. Take a small gift of baking or fruit to give. Have the children prepare Christmas cards ahead of time to give out as well. Write a letter to a missionary family or two. Include encouraging scriptures, and let each member of the family tell a little about themselves, whether they write it, or dictate it. Collect yearly memories – Ask each person to write down something that they are thankful for, and something that they would like to see happen in the new year – collect these and pack them away with the Christmas decorations so you can read them when you get together next year. Watch a good Christian movie, such as War Room, Martin Luther, Woodlawn, Alleged, The Case for Christ, Beyond the Mask, Overcomer, Time Changer, Sabina, Courageous, The Song, I Can Only Imagine, and Calvinist and talk about it. Read and write some poems about the true Christmas story. Attend your church service, whether on Christmas morning or Christmas Eve.  Honoring Christ in every way It’s pretty common to see signs that say “Keep Christ in Christmas.” By analyzing what we have done before and carefully choosing what we will do this year, we can accomplish that goal. Sharon L. Bratcher has collected 45 of her RP articles into a book, which is available by contacting her at [email protected]....

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How to live your best life: knowing, and participating in, the greatest (true) story

I had always felt life first as a story: and if there is a story there is a story-teller. ― G.K. Chesterton ***** There’s a phrase in popular culture – “I’m living my best life.” It captures the human desire to experience a fulfilling life. Advertising companies, film industry executives, recording artists, and popular culture teach us that the best life is one with white teeth, exciting vacations, the newest car, and living a life true to oneself. They are pitching a vision and story of how the best life can be obtained and are inviting us – enticing us – to run after the storylines they present. But there is a remarkable verse in the Bible -- one that speaks about “living our best life.”  It is a countercultural verse that offers a doorway into understanding how to truly flourish. John 10:10 tells us that Jesus Christ came “that we may have life and have it to the full.” Life to the full – our best life – we are told, is found in Jesus Christ. The “best life” that Jesus promises is a reality for followers of Jesus Christ through the eternal life He promises, and we can begin to experience it already in this life too. How can we begin to live, already now, the “life to the full” that Jesus promises? When we know, and step into, the only real and true story – the glorious story that fits with reality – that God Himself is writing. When we say that we want to “live our best life” we are saying that we want our lives to be a beautiful story filled with adventure, love, purpose, meaning, connection, and joy. What God tells us in John 10:10 is that the only story that will fulfill all those longings is our participation in the story He is writing. What is the story that God is writing? It can be divided into four broad “chapters,” with each chapter providing insights vital to the well-lived, flourishing life. The four broad chapters are: Creation Fall Redemption Restoration The following will explore each of these chapters, and their implications for the flourishing life. 1. Creation Last summer I caught a beautiful cutthroat trout while flyfishing. Knowing others would never believe I caught such a large fish without photographic proof (I’m known to be slightly enthusiastic about things), I spent a few moments taking pictures of the fish. When I put it back in the water to release it, it floated upside down and drifted deep into a large pool of water. I felt a tinge of sorrow that the fish was seemingly dying, and I felt more than a tinge of dread that I would have to wade armpit deep into the cold water to try retrieve and revive it. Thankfully, the fish spared me the frigid inconvenience when it caught a second wind, and with a flash of its tail, was gone. Fish thrive in water, but they die quickly when they are out of their element. This is similar for human beings. We only thrive when we live according to how we have been designed. Thankfully, God’s opening creation “chapter” answers many of the biggest questions of life, such as: Who are we? Why are we here? And for what purposes have we been designed? It is in understanding the God-given answers to these foundational questions that we flourish. The Bible teaches us that living in certain ways leads to death and living in other ways leads to life. As we read in Jeremiah, “For my people have committed two evils: they have forsaken me, the fountain of living waters, and hewed out cisterns for themselves, broken cisterns that can hold no water” (2:13). Elsewhere we read: “There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it leads to death” (Prov. 16:25). Some paths to the “best life” are empty vessels, but others are fountains of living waters. The path to life involves, in part, living according to our design. So what are we told in the creation story about our identity, design, and purpose? We are told that we are created in God’s image with dignity and worth, and we are designed to walk with God, to pursue holiness, and to seek His honor and glory above all. We are created male and female and to live within these identities as they have been assigned to us individually by God. We are created to live in community and to seek the welfare of others. We are designed to form and fill the earth and to continue the creative work of the Ultimate Creator. The creation “chapter” tells us that God created the world beautiful and good, and He created you and me in His image and with a glorious purpose.  We thrive when we live according to God’s design for us and pursue the truth, beauty, and goodness found in Him. 2. Fall The next chapter, on Man’s fall into sin, also answers some of the big questions of life. It explains why the world is not as it could be, or should be, and where the solutions to this reality are found. Unless your head is buried in the sand it is hard to miss the brokenness of this world. As Malcolm Muggeridge once noted, the depravity of man is the most empirically verifiable reality (and ironically, also one of the most intellectually resisted facts). And this brokenness is found both within and outside of us. To consider the extent of the brokenness within, reflect on how hard it is to forgive. God tells us that He forgives us so completely that He “removes our sins as far as the east is from the west” (Ps. 103:12) and yet how often do we not hold tightly to grudges. As for the brokenness outside of us, consider that historians generally agree that there has not been a single year in human history that did not contain war (which they describe as a conflict causing more than a thousand deaths). Not one solitary year in the thousands of years of human existence has been filled with universal peace. How can a person flourish when there is so much misery in the world? Simply put, the beauty of the gospel story is that it helps us understand the brokenness and put it into the context of a larger story. The Fall “chapter” gives us context because it rightly describes the problem so that we can apply the right solution. In my work as a psychologist, I have routinely observed the need to explore, in detail, the nature of the problems and issues people present to me because it is only when the precise nature of the problem is understood that an effective remedy can be applied. And this is true of any work. My son is a commercial refrigeration mechanic and the favorite aspect of the job for him is problem-solving customers’ issues – fully exploring why their refrigeration equipment is not functioning properly so that he can ensure that the solution he applies will, in fact, address the heart of the issue. In a similar way, to have the best chance of flourishing, you must understand the nature of the problems you face in your life (in your relationships, workplace, church, or family, etc.) so that you can gain proper perspective and apply appropriate solutions. The Fall chapter illustrates how sin has destroyed the shalom that God provided in the creation chapter. Sin in our hearts, and in the hearts of others, does not surprise us (and when it is a surprise it often produces traumatic effects) but it directs us to the only comfort and solution as found in Jesus Christ. We need to humble ourselves before God (and others) and seek the solutions to our brokenness (and to the brokenness around us) in Him and in His revealed Word. Only God can redeem our suffering and pain. At the same time, we can live in the hope that the brokenness in and around us is not the enduring reality of the world, and neither is the resulting pain. Goodness, beauty, and truth are the ultimate reality. 3. Redemption Recently, I was talking with another psychologist about the topic of flourishing, and he said something striking to me – “flourishing is knowing that you are always okay.” I’ve thought a lot about his comment since then and even though I do not know whether he is a practicing Christian or not, there is a great deal of truth in this statement. There is an unshakeable peace in your soul when you know that, despite your feelings of inadequacy, loneliness, uncertainty, sin, and suffering you are ultimately always okay. Without such bedrock assurance human beings are prone to anxiety, depression, and insecurity. But the redemption chapter tells us that, in Jesus Christ, you are always okay, and you are always, completely, loved. Research in psychology has demonstrated that children can only thrive when they have a secure base of attachment (called attachment theory). If children feel safe and loved, they present as calm and curious and willing to take risks and explore the world around them. But if children feel unsafe and unloved, they present as anxious, hostile, and withdrawn. Human beings need a secure attachment to flourish. The redemption “chapter” describes the rock, the foundation, the refuge, the secure attachment of our lives. In Christ we are completely safe and deeply loved. In Stumbling Towards Eternity, Josh White writes, “My Christian life did not begin to open up until I truly believed in the depth of my being that on my worst day, Jesus is crazy about me. It’s not just Jesus but the triune God who loves and who is love.” Or as Tim Keller wrote in The Meaning of Marriage: “The gospel is this: We are more sinful and flawed in ourselves than we ever dared believe, yet at the very same time we are more loved and accepted in Jesus Christ than we ever dared hope.” As Os Guinness has rightly noted, “the ultimate reality behind the universe is love” – a God that loves so deeply that He died for your sins, dear reader, and mine. When we let that reality sink deep into our hearts and minds, peace and joy enter our souls. And peace and joy are foundational to flourishing. The redemption “chapter” tells us that in Jesus Christ, we are deeply loved – and nothing can separate us from that love – “neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation” (Romans 8:38-39). Flourishing comes from embracing this reality, loving others as we have been loved, and living a life of thankfulness and gratitude – two practices secular psychologists have overwhelmingly demonstrated to correlate with the flourishing life. 4. Restoration Victor Frankl, a Holocaust survivor, and eminent psychologist, once famously wrote that “Those who have a 'why' to live, can bear with almost any 'how.'” But an even bigger truth is that those who know the end of the story can bear with any what. My wife is a big reader. But she has a reading habit that I have never understood. She reads the final pages of a book before she begins reading the first pages. She likes to know how things work out in the end before she immerses herself in the drama of the story. There is great comfort in knowing the end of a story during the ups and downs of the narrative. The same is infinitely truer of our own life stories. Not long ago, several people were killed in a Christian school in Nashville, Tennessee by a deranged shooter. One of the children was the daughter of a local pastor, Chad Scruggs. Just weeks before his daughter was murdered, he preached a sermon on John 11, and he focussed on the assurance found in that passage that “the middle of a hard story looks different when you know how the story ends.” That perspective must have provided him with incredible comfort in the wake of the personal tragedy he experienced. That is the beauty of the gospel. Despite what we may suffer in our lives because of the brokenness both within us, and outside of us, we know how the story ends and we do not “grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Thess. 4:13). By God’s grace, we already know the end of the story that God is writing – God is “working to make all things new” (Rev. 21:5). The title of Daniel Nayeri’s beautiful (and funny) book, Everything Sad is Untrue, could be an alternative title to the restoration “chapter” as it conveys the power of Revelation 21:5 in supplying hope, courage, joy, and peace to our lives – even amid the most difficult circumstances. In his book, Daniel tells an account of his families’ experience of persecution in Iran, and the hardships they faced, due to his mother’s conversion to Christianity. Daniel marvels at the strength his mother displayed despite the hardships she faced, and he writes, “I don’t know how my mom was so unstoppable despite all that stuff happening. I dunno. Maybe it's anticipation. Hope. The anticipation that the God who listens in love will one day speak justice. The hope that some final fantasy will come to pass that will make everything sad untrue. Unpainful. That across rivers of sewage and blood will be a field of yellow flowers blooming. You can get lost there and still be unafraid. No one will chase you off of it. It's yours. A father who loves you planted it for you. A mother who loves you watered it. And maybe there are other people there, but they are all kind. Or better than that, they are right with each other. They treat each other right. If you have that, maybe you keep moving forward.” Knowing that “everything sad will one day be untrue,” that across the “rivers of sewage and blood will be a field of yellow flowers blooming,” that one day all injustices will be made right, every disability will evaporate, every hurt will be removed, and every tear will be wiped away (Rev. 21:4), provides a hope that will not fail. Without hope, people perish. The psychologist referenced earlier, Victor Frankl, observed that this was the case in the horror of the death camps of WWII as well. Those without hope died much sooner than those with hope. God did not leave us without the kind of hope that sustains and strengthens even in the darkest circumstances. God assures us that: “those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” (Is. 40:31) As J.C. Ryle has said about hope, “I am more convinced as I grow older, that to keep our eyes fixed on the second coming of Christ is the secret of Christian peace.” The flourishing life is internalizing, amid the hurts and pain we experience in this life, what we are promised in 1 Cor. 2:9: “Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him” – “a field of yellow flowers blooming.” God is making all things new and He will restore the shalom of paradise. Even more, He invites us to participate in His beautiful work of restoration by being reconcilers and by being agents of His justice, mercy, love, truth, and goodness in all the roles and circumstances in which He places us. In Chuck Colson’s eloquent words, “In every action we take, we are doing one of two things: we are either helping to create hell on earth or helping to bring down a foretaste of heaven. We are either contributing to the broken condition of the world or participating with God in transforming the world to reflect his righteousness.” (How Now Shall We Live?) Participating in God’s work brings life to the world around you, but it also brings life to your own heart, soul, and mind. Some final words To summarize, I want to share one last important thought about finding the flourishing life in Jesus Christ. I recently listened to a woman, Gianna Jessen, who survived an abortion attempt in 1977 tell her story. She described how doctors used a saline solution to try to end her mother’s pregnancy – and her life. She endured this saline “bath” for 18 hours in the womb. But miraculously, she survived. However, because of the method of abortion used, she was born with cerebral palsy due to lack of oxygen. She made the point that often children with disabilities or deformities are aborted due to the justification that they will not have a high quality of life (or any form of the “best life”). But then she also said something that served to fundamentally enrich my understanding of the flourishing life. She said (a rough paraphrase of her words): “Do you know what it is like to live with cerebral palsy every day and struggle with every movement? It means that you must depend upon God at every moment. And do you know what it means when you must depend upon God at every moment and for every movement? It means that you become a friend of God. And do you know what it means when you are a friend of God? It means that you have the highest quality of life.” God, in His grace, has invited us to be a part of the greatest story ever told. Knowledge of, and participation in this Great Story of truth, goodness, and beauty, is the “fountain of living water” and the “life to the full.” Accept no substitutes. Instead, know this story deeply. Let it permeate your heart and mind and participate in it with all your being. Even amid brokenness, you will be able to say that you are “living your best life.” Dr. Mark W. Slomp holds a senior leadership role in a Canadian post-secondary university. He is a Registered Psychologist and is also the founder of XP Counselling, Speaking & Writing focused on the promotion of the flourishing life, and ambassadorship, in Jesus Christ. He can be reached at [email protected] for inquiries about speaking, counselling (career and personal), and writing....

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