When Freedom Gets Ugly

I’m a reader/writer/listener/learner. Former journalism student. Current events observer. Occasional blogger. Everyday pray-er. Ordinary American.

As such, I’m especially grateful for the rights of free speech, free press, freedom of religion afforded me in this country. These are privileges many will never know.

But – more than ever – I’m unsettled by the blurry lines between those beautiful freedoms and… a whole lot of ugly.

Hate speech.

Propaganda. (Cleverly disguised as news.)

Freedom of some religions… and seemingly permissible persecution of others.

I feel like I’m witnessing firsthand a sharp uptick in all of the above. It’s terrible.

And terrifying.

What’s going on?

In city streets? On college campuses? At churches, synagogues and mosques, even? (Aren’t houses of worship meant for… worship?)

Why the misplaced politicizing? The incendiary rhetoric? The micro- and macro-aggressions?

A war is on, I know. Several, actually. (And more brewing, I fear.)

People are being bombarded and brutalized. We shouldn’t be apathetic about that. Of course not. We should care about the people – the children, for heaven’s sake – whose lives are shattering in real time. And we should raise our voices against injustice, oppression, persecution.

(Silence isn’t always golden.)

But in our pleas/protests/preaching, we better be careful we don’t become the very things we’re railing against (unjust, oppressive, destructive) and shatter our own lives in the process.

Can’t we enjoy our liberties civilly? Exercise our freedoms without impeding others’? Demonstrate without vitriol or violence?

A wise man once said:

Hate cannot drive out hate.

When are we going to learn that?

I recently watched a sermon sent by a dear friend whose heart, she said, was thoughtfully expressed in her rabbi’s message.

The message resonated with me (a Christian), not because I understand the Jewish experience (nor the Palestinian)… but because I share the human experience. In all of its vast complexity, its gripping fear and exquisite beauty, its excruciating pain and unbridled joy and waves of sorrow.

I heard her rabbi’s call for both vigilance in the Jewish community and heartfelt compassion for Palestinians. I sensed the tension between his warranted fear of rising antisemitism… and his distress over the plight of innocent Gazans caught in the relentless offensive against Hamas. I felt his angst over the ongoing suffering of Israeli hostages and his horror at the great loss of life in Gaza.

Hard things to grapple with. Even harder to effectively address.

How can I be an ally of my Jewish friends and family… and heed the cries for help resounding from Gaza?

How can I defend Israel’s right to protect its citizens (and deter further terrorism) and – at the same time – back the call for protection/recognition/liberty for Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank?

How can I advocate on behalf of the Jewish people (a people God calls his own) and also advocate for the Palestinian people shell-shocked and starving as the Israel-Hamas war continues?

I honestly don’t know if it’s possible – without offending/disparaging/repudiating someone (or millions).

But I hope I have the courage to try.

Here’s what I won’t do (God helping me):

I won’t stop reading, writing, listening, learning.

I won’t turn a blind eye to things happening across the continents, in our country, or around the corner.

I won’t tolerate hate speech in my earshot or on my page.

I won’t refuse to believe that history could repeat itself.

Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

Yes… but how in the world do we start?

Love your neighbor.

The ones you identify with and the ones you don’t. The ones you agree with… and the ones whose rhetoric perplexes/perturbs/inflames/infuriates you.

“If you only love the lovable, do you expect a pat on the back? Run-of-the-mill sinners do that. If you only help those who help you, do you expect a medal? Garden-variety sinners do that…

“I tell you, love your enemies. Help and give without expecting a return. You’ll never—I promise—regret it. Live out this God-created identity the way our Father lives toward us, generously and graciously, even when we’re at our worst. Our Father is kind; you be kind.” ~ Luke 6:32-36 (MSG)

Ever seen this meme?

HUMANkind. Be both.

(^ Yeah, that.)

Exercise your freedoms with wisdom and discretion and restraint. And if you’re the praying type, please do.

Pray for the peace of Jerusalem. Say,
    “May those who love you be secure.
May there be peace inside your walls.
    May your people be kept safe.”
I’m concerned for my family and friends…
     ~ Psalm 122:6-8a (NIRV)

Deeply.

So I pray for peace… and try to live it.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

Here. There. Everywhere.

Amen.

Wendy

Especially Needed

This one is for every momma and daddy chosen by God for special assignment.

The parents of the kids who live/learn/look different than most. (The ones the playground bullies call misfits or freaks… or worse.)

The parents of students too often perceived as slow or stupid, deemed “unable” or “disabled” and marginalized in many of the fine arts, athletic and extracurricular opportunities afforded most kids. (Which makes them feel – nearly every day – less than.)

The parents of the ones targeted by verbal abusers, who hear the “R” word on the regular, who grow accustomed to sitting alone, staying quiet, staring at their shoes. The kids trying to survive school (days… years), sometimes without a single true friend.

This is for every mom who’s had to leave a public place mid-activity because her daughter – diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder – had a meltdown due to impulse control issues or sensory overload.

Every dad who spends hours shooting hoops with his son – diagnosed with a behavioral disorder – because none of the neighbor kids invite him to play. Ever.

Every mom who makes three different meals for her kids because they have different diagnoses – oral-motor difficulties or sensory processing disorder – and their tastes, texture responses and chew/swallow capabilities vary.

Every dad who spends hours each week helping his adult son – diagnosed with dyspraxia – shave his face because fine motor problems make that task nearly impossible. (Or a bloody mess.)

Every set of parents who has spent countless hours caring/comforting/correcting/ protecting/advocating/intervening/teaching/researching/scheduling and meeting with doctors, therapists, psychologists, special educators, social workers and tutors so their child can know his worth, find his way and reach his potential… or “just keep swimming” upstream in the mainstream.

This one’s for you, weary momma. (You too, sleep-deprived daddy.)

I see you. I’ve been there. Right where you’re standing. Or kneeling.

(Or curling up in a fetal position.)

On hard, holy ground.

And here’s what I want you to know.

You’re not alone.

And neither is your kid.

Don’t be afraid, for I am with you. Don’t be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will hold you up… Isaiah 41:10 (NLT)

Thank God. Help is (on) the Way.

March is National Developmental Disabilities Awareness Month. And here’s what all of us parents of neurodivergent and developmentally-different kids wish everyone else knew:

Every kid has special needs. Our kids’ needs aren’t more or worse. They’re just different.

Our kiddos get hurt when your kiddos whisper, point, stare or steer clear of them. Encourage your kids to get to know ours.

(Start here: Smile. Say hi. Sit nearby.)

Just because our kiddos struggle with social cues doesn’t mean they don’t want friends.  And it also doesn’t mean they’re oblivious to teasing, taunting and other mistreatment. No one should ever be called a “retard” or a “dumb f—.”

Ever.

Our kids may not be able to do what your kids can do. But they are extraordinary too… and able. Able to connect. And care. Able to feel. And fill a place in this great big world that no one else ever could. Able to learn and laugh and love (BIG). Able to find joy in the simplest things.

The bottom line is this:

A diagnosis or disability shouldn’t define a person.

Labels are for clothes, containers and canning jars… not people.

People are God’s masterpieces, that’s why.

For we are His workmanship [His own master work, a work of art], created in Christ Jesus [reborn from above—spiritually transformed, renewed, ready to be used] for good works, which God prepared [for us] beforehand [taking paths which He set], so that we would walk in them [living the good life which He prearranged and made ready for us]. ~ Ephesians 2:10 (AMP)

Exquisitely created by God. Made for good works… and meant for the good life.

All of us.

Not just those who sit still or speak clearly or happen to perform well on standardized tests.

Every body.

Our incredibly special kiddos want to be seen, not stared at. Heard, not hushed. Treasured, not tolerated.

If we want to be more like Jesus, we need to celebrate every kind of diversity. Developmental, intellectual, chromosomal, and cognitive too.

Because wonder comes in all kinds of packages.

(And God doesn’t make mistakes.)

“Learning differences” doesn’t simply mean hidden strengths or undervalued abilities. It means unique perspectives, priorities, vision and passion.

A fresh outlook. Invaluable insight. Infinite worth.

Because God said so.

And just like he does, we ought to cherish our children. Celebrate the best in them (and bear the worst). Embrace the possibilities. Affirm all the divinely-appointed potential.

Let’s keep encouraging, embracing, uplifting.

Let’s give blessings and big hugs and high fives.

Let’s savor every step and stride. (Each one is a tiny-but-mighty miracle.)

Let’s treasure every triumph… and honor every tear. Like our Heavenly Father.

You have seen me tossing and turning through the night. You have collected all my tears and preserved them in your bottle! You have recorded every one in your book. ~ Psalm 56:8 (TLB)

God sees, knows, cares… comforts.

My son has a laundry list of diagnoses, but none of them mean much to him. Or us. Zack is funny and fiercely loyal. Passionate and particular. Humble and kind.

Zack is adamant about fairness… but he’s also the first to forgive when he gets shorted. Zack is strong and able-bodied… but he cares deeply about the weak, the sick, the suffering. Zack knows the power of words. He feels (deeply) every blessing. And every curse.

He’s a big fan of college sports, country music, burgers and naps. And he’s good at putting things together.

When he was little, it was 100-piece Thomas the Tank Engine puzzles. And now it’s electrical pre-fab assemblies. He’s good at this stuff. Really good. Come to think of it, he’s a lot like the LORD that way. Taking things that are in pieces… or falling apart… and putting them back together. (Like Father, like son.)

But you know what Zack really wants?

He wants his life to count. Wants to contribute and connect. With God and other people.

Despite his learning disabilities, Zack is a gifted teacher. He taught me how to be a mom. He guided me away from controlling tendencies and conditional love and toward bigger faith and deeper compassion. He tutored me in persistence and patience. (And yes, tested it too.) Honestly… Zack has taught me more about mercy and goodness and good humor than any professor, pastor, teacher or counselor I’ve ever had.

To me, Zack isn’t “special needs.”

He’s especially needed.

In our family.

And in the world.

Z ~ I love you all the way up to heaven and back a million zillion times.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

Momma

P.S. To learn more about Seeds of Hope (the Indiana nonprofit which provides vocational training and jobs for young adults like Zack), please visit our website.

Searching for Answers (and the Rabbit Hole known as G**gle)

Every waking hour of every single day, we make choices.

A lot of them.

According to a 2016 article in the Wall Street Journal, some experts estimate the number of conscious and subconscious choices we make hovers around 2000.

Per hour.

(No wonder I’m tired.)

Sure, some of those choices are small and relatively inconsequential. Green socks or grey? Almond butter or avocado on that slice of toast?

But some are bigger decisions with lasting effects.

On us… and others.

Pretty sure most of us want those choices to be well-informed.

(Instinct and impulse have both proven unreliable in my experience. You?)

Where do you get your information? Cable news, morning paper, daily podcast, Apple newsfeed? (Please don’t say TikTok.)

Who advises you when you have an important decision to make? Your dad/doctor/lawyer/life coach/co-worker? (Please don’t say bartender/palm reader/Gwyneth.)

There’s a glut of information out there. Billions (trillions?) of sources to choose from. Innumerable voices clamoring for your attention.

Which ones do you listen to?

Why?

(Take a second. I’ll wait.)

Do yourself a favor – don’t just listen to the loudest or the so-called smartest.

Sources matter.

Be selective.

Just like we choose what to eat every day, you and I get to choose the information we consume.

I can barely tolerate the money-grab/power-play/three-ring circus that is American journalism. So I limit my news sources. And I have little patience for wading through pop-ups and promos on the internet. So I limit my screen time.

How do we narrow the field and get good answers to tough questions, sound advice for hard decisions?

Some people skip the talking heads and go straight to friends for input… but…

*Proceed with caution.*

Because sometimes our charming/cheerful/funny friends offer well-meaning advice… that later proves to be misguided (or downright lousy).

Other folks seek professional help. And while I encourage therapy (for pretty much everyone, myself included), I must forewarn: there’s a limited supply of licensed, experienced therapists available.

And a serious shortage of good ones.

What we do have ready access to is…

Google.

God, help us.

I mean that.

God, help us not turn to Google before we turn to you.

What’s your go-to?

You can go straight to God.

Or you can just go/ogle the limited knowledge of mere mortals. (See what I did there? ^)

The fact is the information Google disseminates can be inconsistent/incomprehensible/biased… and occasionally, terrifying.

Ever Google your symptoms? (You’re dead.)

Even The Atlantic acknowledged the search engine’s fallibility in a September 2023 article: “The Tragedy of Google Search.”

Internet searches can lead us into a labyrinth of questionable sources and conflicting data. Alice (or Alex) types in a keyword… and tumbles down a rabbit hole of “answers” many of which are limited in perspective or lacking in proof.

Some people forego Google and look for advice/answers/info on social media instead.

Word to the wise:

Don’t.

They’re called “influencers” because they want to exert influence over you. (And maybe take your money too.) They should not be trusted advisers.

Not only is social media the “wild wild west” of information sourcing… it can also lead down a dark alley of uncertainty, insecurity and anxiety. (Props to Selena for stating that so plainly.)

Me? I’d like to be better informed.

I want to gather solid information from trusted sources. The wisest and best.

Which means…

God first.

If you want to know what God wants you to do, ask him, and he will gladly tell you, for he is always ready to give a bountiful supply of wisdom to all who ask him; he will not resent it.  But when you ask him, be sure that you really expect him to tell you, for a doubtful mind will be as unsettled as a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind; and every decision you then make will be uncertain, as you turn first this way and then that. If you don’t ask with faith, don’t expect the Lord to give you any solid answer. ~ James 1:5-8 (TLB)

God knows everything.

And he knows you. He knows your situation, your relationships, your fears, your strengths and struggles better than anyone. He knows your history (and your heart) best.

Go to him first. Ask him for the answers you need.

Be humble, honest, expectant.

And have a little faith that he’ll answer.

(He will.)

Your word is like a lamp that shows me the way.
    It is like a light that guides me. ~ Psalm 119:105 (ERV)

Need directions/clarity/help/hope?

Crack open the Book.

It’s a good one.

Wendy

P.S. “God gives us his Word for our instruction and blessing. It truly is the one indispensable book.” ~ Jimmy Carter

“Within the covers of the Bible are the answers for all the problems (people) face.” ~ Ronald Reagan

THE Must-Have Gift List

So, what’s on your holiday wish list?

Me… I’ve been eyeing a pair of black suede boots and an antique birdbath.

(What can I say… I’m a Vanity Fair-meets-Southern Living kinda gal these days.)

As much as I’d love for Santa Baby (ok, Steve) to slip these gifts under the tree – for me – I realize at some point the boots’ll wear out and my feathered friends will crap all over that beautiful birdbath.

And you know what? When I close my eyes at the end of a rough day (or the middle of a crisis), it’s not boots or birdbaths that I want.

What I must have is…

Hope.

Comfort.

Clarity.

Safety… security… serenity.

Peace.

And some tender loving care. (The kind that won’t quit.)

Aren’t those the gifts we all want? All 8 billion of us?

What if I told you they could be yours? Guaranteed delivery. What if I told you there’s a prince waiting to bestow everything your soul longs for.

A Prince… of Peace.

A Protector. Comforter. Counselor. Listener. Lover.

He’s ready/waiting/willing/able to give you what you ache to have.

Himself.

It’s Jesus we’re desperate for.

He is the gift.

But there’s a catch. Neither you nor I can receive him… until we open our hearts wide and bare our souls. And tragically, most of us won’t ever do that.

Unless… until… we realize how desperate we really are.

Most of us are pretty obtuse. We don’t even realize we need Jesus in the first place. But even those of us who do, we rarely want to admit that our self-sufficiency is… well… insufficient.

(It’s called foolish pride for a reason.)

Not to mention the fact that without him, we remain unforgiven… beholden to our failures and faults, riddled with guilt and shame.

I’ve got my share, that’s for sure:

I’m selfish.

Stubborn.

Lazy at times.

I jockey for position and play favorites.

I indulge my pride with self-pity… or a runaway sense of entitlement.

(Just scratching the surface here.)

If I dig deeper, I uncover…

I’m weak-willed, short-sighted, much-afraid.

I interrupt and interfere. I try to control things – and people! – far beyond my reach and resources (a limited perspective and lack of power, for starters).

But the beautiful thing (beneath all that muck and mire) is that I know it.

I know myself.

And self-awareness is a precious commodity. Because it can lead straight to contrition.

(That’s the part where I own it.)

And contrition can lead straight to confession.

(That’s when I admit it.)

If I choose not to duck/dodge/deflect blame for my own s&*t.

God knows it all anyway. So I may as well unburden myself.

Plead guilty, if you will.

(And breathe a huge sigh of relief.)

Exhale guilt and shame; inhale mercy and grace.

Come clean… and come near.

That’s the invitation of Christmas.

To gaze up at the heavens and turn your heart toward the One who created them… and you.

He knows all about you – the good, the bad, the ugly. And here’s the really crazy thing:

He adores you.

No, really.

And nothing you’ve ever done – or will do – changes that.

How can it be? That our God, our Gift, can see us so clearly… and love us with such unflinching devotion?

It’s inexplicable.

A Christmas miracle.

And now – this year, this day, here and now – it’s our turn. To come clean and come near.

Open your heart wide, bare your soul, believe.

By entering through faith into what God has always wanted to do for us—set us right with him, make us fit for him—we have it all together with God because of… Jesus. And that’s not all: We throw open our doors to God and discover at the same moment that he has already thrown open his door to us. We find ourselves standing where we always hoped we might stand—out in the wide open spaces of God’s grace and glory, standing tall and shouting our praise. ~ Romans 5:1-2 (The Message)

Oh, come let us adore him.

Wendy

F R I E N D S

Once upon a time, I went to college with one of the Friends.

David Schwimmer graduated from Northwestern a year after me, but I never got to know him while we were there. I sure did enjoy his work on the show though.

Friends was like comfort food: warm, familiar, savory/sweet/spicy and… well… comforting. (With a heaping side of good humor.)

It’s odd when you find yourself thinking a lot about someone who’s a perfect stranger. But the past few days, my thoughts have turned to David (and the rest of the Friends cast) often. I felt a sharp pang of sadness when I heard about Matthew Perry’s death. Of course I didn’t know him either. But somehow, I’m convinced that if I did, we’d be…

Friends.

(In real life.)

His portrayal of Chandler Bing was understated brilliance. He crafted a character that was at once gruff and gentle, snarky and kindly, wickedly funny and fiercely loyal. I know this is debatable but I always thought Chandler was the glue of that gang.

I haven’t read his memoir yet, but I’ve heard a few excerpts that illuminate some dark corners of Matthew Perry’s life. In Friends, Lovers and the Big, Terrible Thing, he wrote a painfully honest account of his struggle to get clean… and his desperate cry for help:

‘God, please help me,’ I whispered. ‘Show me that you are here. God, please help me.’

As I kneeled, the light slowly began to get bigger, and bigger, until it was so big that it encompassed the entire room…What was happening? And why was I starting to feel better?

He continued:

I started to cry. I mean, I really started to cry – that shoulder-shaking kind of uncontrollable weeping. I wasn’t crying because I was sad. I was crying because for the first time in my life, I felt OK. I felt safe, taken care of. Decades of struggling with God, and wrestling with life, and sadness, all was being washed away, like a river of pain gone into oblivion.

I had been in the presence of God. I was certain of it. And this time I had prayed for the right thing: help.

Eventually the weeping subsided. But everything was different now… I stayed sober for two years based solely on that moment. God had shown me a sliver of what life could be. He’d saved me that day. And for all days. No matter what. He had turned me into a seeker. Not only of sobriety, and truth, but also of Him.

I don’t know what transpired between that moment of salvation and this past weekend. But from the time I heard about his battle with addiction, I was pulling for him.

And while I have no idea how or why Matthew Perry died Saturday (and no desire to speculate), I do know this. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Matthew didn’t die alone.

Because God was with him.

And now, I daresay, he is with God.

They’re together.

For all days.

The best of friends.

… Now you are my friends, proved by the fact that I have told you everything the Father told me. ~ John 15:15 (TLB)

Those are the words of Jesus, spoken to a rag-tag bunch of guys he’d invited to become his friends.

I’ve told you these things for a purpose: that my joy might be your joy, and your joy wholly mature. This is my command: Love one another the way I loved you. This is the very best way to love. Put your life on the line for your friends. ~ John 15:11-13 (MSG)

That’s what Jesus did. He put his life on the line for us. And he did it so we could be forgiven and free… so we could be friends forever.

That beautiful invitation of friendship with God? He extends it to you and me too. So what do you say?

Want to be friends with God?

Just ask.

John Eldredge writes:

The Christian faith is at its center an invitation to intimacy with God. He is an actual person, with a personality and a heart… and just as in any other relationship, it is the connection of these two hearts that matters above all else. This is where you separate from religion, and this is what will rescue you from slipping back into it. Friendship with God is the heartbeat of it all; nothing else can substitute (though many things will try)...

Becoming friends with God is what you were made for. It’s the moment of salvation and the meaning of life. It’s the only sure thing in this world.

The truth is, at one time or another, all our other friends will leave us or fail us somehow.

Jesus never will.

He’s the best of friends… for all days. No matter what.

He’ll be there for you.

Wendy

P.S. If you or someone you love is struggling with addiction, find online resources and support at Celebrate Recovery.

Legit Grit

Well, here we are.

The new normal.

Post-pandemic life is a strange new world. Littered with staff shortages, learning gaps, lingering anxiety and long Covid.

(Along with a new variant… of course.)

The past three years have unearthed all kinds of triggers and terrors and trauma. Oh my. Seems Covid flipped the klieg lights on a widespread shortage of coping skills.

Turns out… we’re soft, America.

I’m soft.

How can we possibly overcome adversity if we keep cowering/complaining/crumpling at the first sign of it?

(Perhaps schools should require a new course: Coping 101. Might merit consideration for core curriculum, no?)

What we need is a dash of courage… and some resilience.

Resilience seems rather undervalued these days. Except when it’s critical. (In a crisis, for instance.) And then, well, it’s often in short supply. Because if you don’t already have it, you can’t just conjure it out of thin air.

It’s gained over time through testing, trials and – when necessary – tough love. Sometimes it’s best to take the hard road, the one through the valley or up the steep incline, in order to build endurance, strength. If we call an Uber or take the chairlift, we simply won’t get it.

We need to be brave… and forge ahead. Because when we try to duck/dodge/deny our troubles – or a well-meaning friend/parent/partner perpetually rides to our rescue – we miss out on a real gift.

Legit grit.

Life is hard. (< Pretty sure we can all agree on that.) But how we walk through the murky/messy/hard/harrowing seasons reveals our mettle.

Most of the time we muddle through okay. We make it through the ups and downs and sideways (or at least fake it fairly convincingly). But what happens when the proverbial bottom drops out? The bomb detonates? The tornado rips through?

What then?

Crisis is the ultimate litmus test. It reveals what we know, where we turn, how we cope.

The resilient ones rise to the occasion. Others… panic.

They reel and react. Fight or flee. Lash out… or look for the nearest escape.

(Noticing an unnerving spike in all of the above.)

But those aren’t the only options. There’s another, better one.

Faith.

Not that flimsy chase-the-wind, wish-on-a-star, manifest-the-future nonsense. The real thing.

Faith is assurance; it breeds confidence, courage, steadfastness. And yes…

Resilience.

So… what do you know?

Where do you turn?

How do you cope?

That, friend, is the object of your faith.

Everybody believes in something. (Self-improvement? Personal wealth? Political ideology? Higher education? Health supplements? Hedonism?)

Everyone relies on someone. (Significant other? Therapist? Personal trainer? Money manager? Emotional support animal? …Bartender?)

What are you sure of?

Who are you sure of?

Think about it.

No, really… take a moment. I’ll wait. (Because it might be the most important question you ever answer.)

Faith is assurance.

And assurance is where we get grit.

Now faith is the assurance (title deed, confirmation) of things hoped for (divinely guaranteed), and the evidence of things not seen [the conviction of their reality—faith comprehends as fact what cannot be experienced by the physical senses]. ~ Hebrews 11:1 (AMP)

Who are you sure of?

Who’s going to stay right there with you and see you through?

(Do you feel that stirring in your soul? Hear that voice whispering in the wind, rustling through the trees, thundering from heaven?)

I Am.

The One who flung stars. The One who calms storms. The One who loves you to death.

Jesus.

God. With. Us.

When we’re caught in the crossfire/trapped in the rubble/going down with the ship…

He won’t leave or fail us.

He is sure.

Therefore… let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us. We do this by keeping our eyes on Jesus, the champion who initiates and perfects our faith. Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross… ~ Hebrews 12:1-2a (NLT)

Champion of our faith. Author of amazing grace. Giver of legit grit.

Look to him. Lean into him. Learn his ways.

Therefore, since God in his mercy has given us this new way, we never give up. ~ 2 Corinthians 4:1 (NLT)

It’s a hard road, yes. But it leads to true grit… and unfading glory.

Keep going.

Wendy

P.S. So no wonder we don’t give up. For even though our outer person gradually wears out, our inner being is renewed every single day. We view our slight, short-lived troubles in the light of eternity. We see our difficulties as the substance that produces for us an eternal, weighty glory far beyond all comparison, because we don’t focus our attention on what is seen. For what is seen is temporary, but the unseen realm is eternal. ~ 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 (TPT)

The Death of Us

A study published recently in the American Journal of Public Health says that US life expectancy “continues to plummet.”

Well, snap.

That’s rather unsettling.

Especially after a global pandemic and a relentless onslaught of shootings.

I’m pushing 60 now. (< No clue how I got here so quickly, btw.) And while I try not to dwell on it, my body reminds me often that it’s aging. Death is… well… a certainty.

What then?

Is that… the end?

And what does that even mean, really?

Finality?

(Full stop.)

A cosmic flameout?

Eternal nothingness?

Why do we try not to think about death? Because it’s “the great unknown?” Or because it’s mildly/wildly terrifying?

Why don’t we look closer at it, consider it? (And whatever may come after.) We all know death is inevitable. Why don’t we prepare for it… instead of ignoring it? Get our affairs in order. Do the dang things.

Give a little. Live a little. Lend a hand.

Write the letter. Take the trip. Tackle the project.

See the sights. Run the race. Take the course.

Read the book. Buy the flowers. Save the bees.

Let it rip. Let it ride. Let it go.

Reflect. Reminisce. Reassess.

Make the call. Apologize. (No excuses.)

Or – perhaps, harder still – accept the apology. Give a little grace… and a second chance.

(Because mercy is a rare and beautiful thing.)

I don’t know about you, but I’ve mourned plenty who died ahead of me. I know what it means to be grief stricken.

And I’ve had a health scare myself.

Which brings me to this…

There are rumors floating around that death is the end of the story.

But I’m pretty sure – deep down – we know that isn’t true.

…But though God has planted eternity in the hearts of men, even so, many cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end. ~ Ecclesiastes 3:11b (TLB)

Just because we don’t know all the details doesn’t mean there isn’t life after death. Eternity echoes in our hearts.

Somehow we know we were made for forever.

And people who’ve died and been resuscitated… they overwhelmingly attest to it.

After we take our last breath…

Life goes on.

Don’t believe me? Google it. Or better yet, read this book:

Imagine Heaven by John Burke.

(Spoiler alert: it contains dozens of accounts from people who flatlined or had near-death experiences. People who would have a lot to lose – reputation, position, income etc. – if they fabricated these “afterlife” accounts.)

Try this…

Think of your happy place.

The place where you are somehow comforted and exhilarated at the same time. Where you’re surrounded by serenity… wonderstruck by beauty… bursting with sheer joy.

Heaven’s better.

Infinitely.

The question is… are you going?

Do you know the Way?

I don’t want anyone to be lost. (God doesn’t either.)

For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son. Whoever puts his trust in God’s Son will not be lost but will have life that lasts forever. ~ John 3:16 (NLV)

Whoever.

You. Me. Your father/son/sister/neighbor/friend/enemy/fill-in-the-blank.

All who call out to the Lord will be saved. ~ Romans 10:13 (CEV)

Call out to the LORD… and death can’t ever hold any power over you again.

For I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from his love. Death can’t, and life can’t. The angels won’t, and all the powers of hell itself cannot keep God’s love away. Our fears for today, our worries about tomorrow, or where we are—high above the sky, or in the deepest ocean—nothing will ever be able to separate us from the love of God demonstrated by our Lord Jesus Christ when he died for us. ~ Romans 8:38-39 (TLB)

(And when the enemy of your soul tries to convince you otherwise, tell that liar to go to hell.)

Nothing can separate you from God’s love. 

Not who you are, what you’ve done, where you’ve been or how you feel.

You were made for this love, made for forever.

And Jesus has cordially invited you to his place in heaven.

Can you even imagine?

That is what the Scriptures mean when they say, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, and no mind has imagined what God has prepared for those who love him.” ~ 1 Corinthians 2:9 (NLT)

The best is yet to come.

Believe it.

Believe him.

And every day you’ll be one day closer.

John Eldredge writes:

Ask Jesus to show you his kingdom. Sanctify your imagination to him – he wants to tell you all about it. Ask him to reveal to you pictures of the coming kingdom. Be specific – if you want to see those waterfalls, ask to see them. Be open to being surprised, don’t “script” it. I dreamed of ships one night – great, three-masted sailing ships. The day was clear and we were tacking into the trade winds at a wonderful speed. The ocean was aquamarine, I could see marine life below us, keeping pace with us. It helped shatter my lingering religious fears that heaven is going to be boring!

Heaven is going to be… brilliant. In every imaginable way.

Don’t miss it.

Wendy

P.S. “If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” ~ C.S. Lewis

Motherhood: Muddling through (with a whole lotta heart)

Sunday is all about the mommas.

And that’s a good thing. Because if you’re a mom (young, old, or somewhere in the bleary-eyed, sleep-deprived, daunting, desperate middle) pretty much all the other days are about… well… everybody else.

*********************************************************************************** Now I realize that Mother’s Day isn’t happy for everyone. (Because… grief, infertility, abuse, abandonment, addiction, estrangement.) And I don’t want to just blow past all that pain and suffering, because I know some of you can’t either.

I see your bruised and broken hearts. I do. And I pray somehow, some way, sometime very soon God’s grace and peace will find you… and hold you. Close.

************************************************************************************

Mother’s Day may feel like a hassle, chore, or cheesy Hallmark holiday to you. But if you’ve been gifted with a loving mother, this day is cause for celebration.

(Go ahead, make her day.)

In recognition of the most excellent (exhausting/exciting/ excruciating/exhilirating) job on earth, here’s my (loosely adapted and wildly re-imagined) take on the “best mom ever” as described in Proverbs 31:

Do you have any clue how tough it is to find a woman who’ll become an incredible partner and amazing momma? Young bucks, you’re far better off spending your time looking for her IRL, than scrolling/snapping/swiping night and day. Find and invest in a true gem, rather than a gadget, guitar, truck or car. You won’t regret it.

If you make a good match, you’ll have a lifelong lover, trustworthy advisor, fierce warrior and tender comforter by your side. She’ll bring blessing upon blessing. And one day, you’ll realize how rich you truly are. Because your woman will look out for you in ways you can’t imagine. She’ll make your house a home, your home a haven, and your heart (deeply) happy.

Ever after.

She’ll be a helping hand, hard worker, wise investor, bargain hunter. Maybe a natural athlete or gifted artist, savvy businesswoman, teacher or techie, master gardener or gourmet, fashion designer, fisherwoman or physician, accomplished musician or mechanical engineer, brilliant architect/actuary/ author/astronaut. Or maybe she’ll simply make every day brighter, lighter, more festive and fun… because she’s a breath of fresh JOY. But whatever her talents or training, her teamwork will complement, hone and heighten yours.

In short, she’ll make you a better man.

That’s the kind of woman you want by your side… for the adventure of a lifetime.

She’ll be captivating, no doubt. But it won’t be a bunch of razzle dazzle, designer dresses, photo filters and false eyelashes. (Charm is deceptive, aging is inevitable, and soap – and real life – have a way of washing away the razzle. And the dazzle too.) It’ll be true grit and amazing grace and a little bit of divine glory that shine in her… and enchant you.

A true beauty will be luminous and lovely… because her soul is.

She’ll be resourceful, resilient and relentlessly hopeful. Even in the daily grind.

Even in the worst of times.

She may be battle-weary but she’ll soldier on. She may be covered in spit-up and Paw Patrol stickers… but that won’t dim her outlook or her smile. She may have to endure an entire school year of zoom rooms and online instruction, but she won’t stop teaching, learning, coaching. (Not even remotely.)

When the chips are down and the going gets rough, she’ll be tough, tender, true blue.

She’ll show compassion to friends and strangers alike. She’ll be generous and conscientious and confident and capable. So much so that at some point you might wonder if she really needs you at all. Don’t worry; she will. Because you’ll be the one holding her heart for safekeeping.

(Careful there, pal.)

All the guys in the office, on the field, at the course will know and respect you. (And she’ll deserve a fair amount of credit for that.)

She’ll be kind, brave and wonder-full.

She’ll possess a sharp mind, a good sense of humor, and a wealth of sound advice. (If you’re smart, you’ll be humble enough to take it… and appreciate it.)

She’ll be a natural at nurturing and a pro at problem-solving. Again and again, you and your children will benefit from her foresight, fortitude, forgiveness and faith.

And you’ll give her props for all of the above. 

(‘Cause she deserves it.)

Pretty tall order. Truth be told, there isn’t a mother in the history of humankind who’s nailed it. Not even close. (So… moms, toss the inferiority complex. It’s not your color.)

But if your mom even vaguely resembles this maternal force of nature, you have every reason to be grateful. Today and every other day of the year, too.

If you got a gem (by birth, adoption or divine intervention), you hit the mother lode.

And if you’ve yet to find that elusive, exquisite – and affordable – Mother’s Day gift, I’m here for you. Here’s what Mom really wants.

You’re welcome.

(And blessed.)

Wendy

Postscript to all the Dads… We all know your wife/partner/baby mama is not your mother. (Don’t be that guy. Loopholes are for a-holes.) Your kids will do what you do (or don’t). Show them how to appreciate, celebrate and honor their momma.

Please.

And thank you.

The Unthinkable

Remember that one time… when you did that?

No matter how firmly you’ve refused to look back, how far you’ve travelled, how long ago it was…

It still remains.

The stain.

The shame.

That god-awful pit in your stomach.

Maybe you freaked out… or blacked out… or gave in.

Maybe you stumbled into something once upon a time. And now it’s a habit you can’t seem to kick.

Maybe you used someone and then discarded them like week-old leftovers.

Maybe you severed a friendship or family tie. Maybe you terminated a marriage or a pregnancy… and it haunts you.

Maybe your fears (and that fierce protective instinct) took a wrong turn. What you meant to be caring became critical, condescending, controlling.

Maybe your rage inflicted untold damage on another soul. (Or several.)

Maybe you neglected someone who really needed you.

Or abandoned God.

(Because he’s the only one who knows the truth about your backstory.)

Perhaps it wasn’t one horrendous mistake. But rather a whole mess of missteps and lousy decisions… that led you to this.

This brokenness. This barrenness.

You can’t stop eating/drinking/popping pills/watching porn. (You know you can’t quit it ’cause you’ve tried. Countless times.)

Maybe you lost your way… and your life isn’t even recognizable anymore.

Maybe your lies or debts or damaged relationships are stacked so high you can’t see around them.

Or you’re stoking a flame of revenge… and now it’s threatening to incinerate you.

Okay… okay… maybe I’ve got it all wrong.

Your problem isn’t something you did; it’s something someone did to you.

The unthinkable.

It left you gutted, grief-stricken, half-dead. Your heart battered beyond recognition.

Hear this now…

It wasn’t your fault.

(Full stop.)

You didn’t deserve it.

(No one does.)

But maybe – in the awful aftermath of that unthinkable evil – you did whatever you thought might ease (annihilate) your pain and the unbidden shame.

Booze, blades, blasphemy, bitterness.

Binging… whatever. Bedding… whomever.

But it turns out you weren’t erasing the trauma at all. You were just erasing yourself.

And making things worse.

Here’s the truth about the unthinkable. It can’t be evaded. Or escaped.

It can’t be undone.

But justice will be done.

Someday.

See, the story isn’t over yet.

God is full of love and mercy, yes. But he is holy too. (Contrary to popular belief, these aren’t mutually exclusive.)

Justice matters to God, and he judges rightly, perfectly, powerfully, exactingly.

One day – soon I imagine – he will.

All rise!

We will all stand before the Judge. And when we do, we’ll find…

We’re all guilty.

Our offenders.

And us, too.

Everyone has sinned. No one measures up to God’s glory. ~ Romans 3:23 (NIRV)

(Don’t we know it.)

Let’s say someone saw everything we’ve ever done… from every angle. Knew every detail, read every thought, examined our every intention and reaction.

(Your heart racing yet? Yeah, mine too.)

But then he did something altogether unexpected… almost unbelievable.

He stepped in.

To both mete out justice… and bear the brunt of it.

It was the only way goodness and grace, mercy and justice, holiness and wholeness could be accomplished.

It was the only way love would win.

The truth is, we all need saving.

And apparently God thought you and I were worth it.

So Jesus surrendered himself.

Sacrificed his life.

Said…

It is finished.

And buried the unthinkable.

When the sun rose on the third day, the Son rose too.

Believe it, friend.

Pour out your heart – the whole story, every bit of it – and unburden yourself. And Jesus will render all your regret and shame and sorrow powerless against you.

On God my salvation and my glory rest; He is my rock of [unyielding] strength, my refuge is in God.

Trust [confidently] in Him at all times, O people;
Pour out your heart before Him.
God is a refuge for us. ~ Psalm 62:7-8 (AMP)

The offer still stands.

Refuge.

Relief.

Freedom.

From the unthinkable, unbearable, ugliest and worst.

Turns out, our only hope is… a sure one.

All who call out to the Lord will be saved. ~ Romans 10:13 (CEV)

All.

(No exceptions, exclusions or prerequisites.)

Jesus loves you more than you could ever imagine. And he’s ready to rescue.

What are you waiting for?

Wendy

P.S. Come as you are.

There’s hope for the hopeless
And all those who’ve strayed.
Come sit at the table,
Come taste the grace.
There’s rest for the weary,
Rest that endures.
Earth has no sorrow
That heaven can’t cure.

So lay down your burdens,
Lay down your shame.
All who are broken
Lift up your face.
Oh wanderer, come home;
You're not too far.
Lay down your hurt, lay down your heart.
Come as you are. (Crowder)

Heartsick

If you ask me, Valentine’s Day could use an overhaul.

It’s a bit tired/dated/overrated.

And everyone knows it lacks… substance.

Flowers, chocolate and overpriced greeting cards are nice and all… but they can’t convey love (or measure it) any more than a heartfelt wedding toast can guarantee a healthy marriage.

If you are happily coupled, Valentine’s Day is – at best – a reminder to celebrate that. But if you’re not, it’s simply SAD.

(Single Awareness Day.)

*Cue Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.*

Either way, Valentine’s Day usually turns out to be a bit of a disappointment. And it sure can’t cure what ails us, deep down.

A sage once wrote:

Hope deferred makes the heart sick… ~ Proverbs 13:12a (NET)

(And everyone’s had it deferred… or dashed altogether.)

But even before that inevitability, we discover in our hearts… distress.

Dis-ease.

We recognize the symptoms (and hate how they make us feel).

Insecure.

Anxious.

Unsettled.

The truth is… there’s a whole lot of heartsick people on this planet.

(I know because I’m one of them.)

There’s no vaccination against heartsickness. No natural immunity.

Somehow, somewhere along the way, we just contract it. Some toxins penetrate, our hearts suffer damage, and we find ourselves in dire need of critical care.

It starts early. A valentine crush turns out to just be… crushing. Bad boys take. Mean girls fake. Lonely nights break our sense of belonging and leave us… just… longing.

The longer we live, the higher the incidence.

Someone who was supposed to protect us, fails. Someone we were sure we could trust, betrays.

People are difficult. (You and me included.) Some are downright cruel.

I don’t know the neuropsychology of all that. But I know this:

Hurt people hurt others. Troubled people trouble others. Broken people break others. Abused people… (well, you know.)

Our world is fraught with danger, darkness: earthquakes, mass shootings, terminal illnesses, animal cruelty, human trafficking, hate crimes. It’s too much to bear. We become much afraid and try to manage (or manipulate) circumstances (or people) to alleviate our symptoms.

But it’s not always outside contaminants that afflict us. Our own constitution is compromised/corrupted/culpable too.

We’re easily bored and wander off to places/people/patterns that are unsafe. We’re prone to self-absorption, impatience, passive aggression. We make ourselves heartsick with our own lousy decisions and foolish pride and bitterness.

Sometimes, upon self-reflection, we’re startled to see that we’re the hurt/troubled/broken/abusive ones.

Where’s the cure for that?

Try as we might – and oh, do we – we can’t cure it ourselves.

Any more than we can cure Alzheimer’s/autism/addiction… or terminal depression.

Ever been in a cardiac care unit? If so, you know you want the best doctor to be yours. A top-tier cardiologist who can accurately diagnose and effectively treat you.

That’s what the whole heartsick lot of us need now.

A brilliant, compassionate heart specialist.

Someone to ease our fears and alleviate our suffering.

Someone to give us hope.

Heal us.

Allow me to give you a referral.

His name is Jesus.

(He’s in network, available, accepting new patients.)

If we’re gutsy enough to be honest, most of us would admit that we desperately search… elsewhere.

We want a different referral.

We prefer our own “second opinion.”

We think if we get a new job, start this program or change that habit, find new friends (or a special “someone”), do/don’t do this or that, move and “start over” elsewhere, that somehow, that will be the thing that cures us. But it turns out, when we do this or that, go here or there… we’re still there.

We can’t outrun ourselves.

Or escape pain.

Heartsickness… is a global pandemic.

The road to healing is one way. (Full disclosure: narrow road.)

Jesus.

He is the Way.

His treatment plan is holistic, yet incomprehensible. He asks us to trust as he administers an exacting dose: mercy to resuscitate us, grace to sustain us.

He pours his love into our hearts, like he poured out his blood.

It’s a miracle drug, that love. And one day, it’ll prove to be the cure-all.

“… I’m leaving you well and whole. That’s my parting gift to you. Peace. I don’t leave you the way you’re used to being left—feeling abandoned, bereft. So don’t be upset. Don’t be distraught.” John 14:27 (The Message)

Heartsickness – though it feels excruciating, relentless – is a temporary condition. One day, it’ll be eradicated completely.

That day is coming.

Jesus is coming.

God himself will be with them. He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever. ~ Revelation 21:3b-4 (NLT)

If you’re feeling heartsick this Valentine’s Day, please reach out to the aforementioned Specialist. He promised to take good care of you.

Get well soon.

Wendy

The greatest disease in the West today is not TB or leprosy; it is being unwanted, unloved, and uncared for. We can cure physical diseases with medicine, but the only cure for loneliness, despair, and hopelessness is love. There are many in the world who are dying for a piece of bread but there are many more dying for a little love. The poverty in the West is a different kind of poverty — it is not only a poverty of loneliness but also of spirituality. There’s a hunger for love, as there is a hunger for God. ~ Mother Theresa