God Being Real, II

My husband's grandfather died this weekend.  We will miss him a lot!  Ben and Jack had worked up a fun correspondence with Pop that I know they will miss. 

There are many fun and interesting stories that include Pop.  He was such a character.  But the last story he left with us is the most inspiring of all.  Pop knew that he was going to die.  He had already issued a DNR order.  He told my Father-in-Law, "I just want to go Home." 

My Father-in-Law called in the doctor.  They gave him some medicine to help with pain, Pop took off the oxygen mask and waited to see what God's will would be.  He was tired and he was ready to go Home.  He kept saying that over and over. 

As he was drifting off, he knew.  He knew he was going, and that hope within stayed strong and bright!  Every time one of the nurses came in, he must have thought it was his heavenly escort because he would try to get out of the bed to go toward them.  :-)

More than anything, he knew he was going Home.  He had no doubts or fears.  Just a certainty that he was in God's hands.  And as his heart slowed down and he went into unconsciousness and finally death, he rested easy, knowing that God was going to be there to receive him in.

God is real. 

John 5:24 says, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that heareth my word, and believeth on him that sent me, hath everlasting life, and shall not come into condemnation; but is passed from death unto life."

1 Corinthians 15:54-55, "So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written:
      “Death is swallowed up in victory.”
      “ O Death, where is your sting?
      O Hades, where is your victory?”

Pop's story reminds us of the hope we have in Christ.  Where is the victory of death in Pop's death?  Where is the sting?  Taken away when Christ made the ultimate sacrifice for our sins on the cross.  When we come to our own deathbeds, we can have hope, we can have something to look forward to - eternity with our God who loves us and only wants to be with us.

Jeremiah 31:3, ":“ Yes, I have loved you with an everlasting love; Therefore with lovingkindness I have drawn you." "

God Being Real, Part 3

Part 1, Part 2. 

As we were driving away from our campsite out in the boonies, we looked for cars that were going towards it.  We didn’t see any and started to feel a little bit safer once we hit the first red light in town.  It’s a small, small town and at the time I think there was only one choice of hotels.  It was one of those little motels with the office at one end of a long building, with all the doors to the rooms facing the road. There might have been 15 rooms. 

My Dad left us all in the car while he went to get a room.  We all sat, waiting for him without speaking a word.  I for one had eaten way too many marshmallows, and I don’t think I was the only one.  That, combined with the feeling as though the boogeyman were going to jump out at us at any minute kept us thinking our own thoughts.

Dad finally came out from the office.  We went into our room and collapsed where ever Mom told us to sleep.  We all slept hard.  Not one of us woke up until the sun was burning extra bright into our motel window.  We were so worn out by the time we made it to our room we hadn’t even done something as simple as close the drapes before getting into bed.  We got up and all took a shower in a real shower for the first time in over a week.  We checked out and then headed back up the mountain to see what we could see.

The drive back up the mountain was as quiet as the drive down the mountain.  When we got to our campsite, we did see that some of our things had been gone through, but there was no real damage to our set-up.  It was freaky and weird to walk through our campsite knowing that someone had been there while we were gone.  My Mom had one of those screened tents that housed our food.  It was open, and some of the food that had been put away was out on the table.  Our lawn chairs were moved around and next to one of them was an empty bag that had held our marshmallows just a few hours earlier.  

Later, Dad told us about his conversation with the owner of the motel.  As he was checking out, he said, “Didja year what happened last night?”

“No.  We went to bed as soon as we got here, and haven’t heard the news since waking up.”

“Some boys broke into the pharmacy last night and stole some things and did some damage!”

Gulp.

Like I wrote earlier, as a 13 year old, the whole episode just plain creeped me out.  Then as I arrived to my 20’s and thought about it, I thought, “God must have some huge plan for me, to save me like that.” (Ahem.  ;-) 

In my 30’s I calmed down a bit and decided that God must have had some big plan for one of the other people in my family, or even my best friend, to save us all like that. 

Now I’m 40, and I finally realize that God doesn’t have to have any world-changing plan for any of us, to save us as He did.  What He has for my Dad, Mom, two brothers, best friend and me is a never-ending love for His own creation.  Above that, He has His own counsel.  Certainly, God saving my family and friend were not meaningless.  But I don’t have to know why He did it.  God asked Job, “Who is this who obscures my counsel without knowledge?”

Job replied, “Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know (42:3).”

Skipping a verse, in verse 5 Job said, “My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.”

Amen, Job.  Amen.  God is Real.

God Being Real, Part 2

To read Part 1 of this God-story, go HERE.

So there we were, camping out in the middle of practically nowhere with my Dad acting weird.  He is a quiet guy anyway, and hard to read if one doesn’t know him well.  There have been many times when my Dad made a joke and it was obvious the person he was talking to wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.  Very dry.  Very quiet, but mostly with a smile to reassure us all that he was with us in spirit, if not verbally. 

Now there were no smiles and he was doing that thing he does when worried about something.  He puts his hands in his back pockets, slowly paces and looks down.  That was my Dad for the entire first week.

It all came to a head on Friday night.

In honor of it being Friday, my Mom, who was not big on junk food, pulled out the marshmallows.  We all got into our jammies, settled into our lawn chairs in front of the fire and gorged.  There’s nothing like the burnt, gooey goodness of a marshmallow.  Dad had helped us find some good roasting sticks and made sharp points on them for us with his pocket knife, but when offered his own stick with a marshmallow on it, he turned it down and just stood there watching all of us.

After listening to us argue over the merits of mildly toasted versus flaming, burnt marshmallows for about 10 minutes, Dad finally broke his silence.  Even though he is the quiet type, he can be very emotional.  So when he finally spoke, we could all feel the relief he was feeling at finally letting go and letting us know what was on his mind. His voice quavered, and without beating around the bush, he said, “We’ve got to go.”

Whaaaa?  Go?  Because we didn’t really understand where Dad was coming from, all we could think about were logistics.  We were in our jammies.  We were practically ready for bed.  We wanted to continue eating marshmallows. We were 14 hours away from Buffalo.  It was almost 10 o’clock.  We had friends that lived close by, but did we want to go disturb them that late? 

My Mom said no.  “We can pack up and leave in the morning if you have a wild hair, but not tonight.”  

All of this conversation took about two minutes.  When we finished saying our pieces, my Dad just picked back up where he left off. 

“We’ve got to go.  20 years ago, I had a dream that I was reading a newspaper and read an article about a pastor who was from Buffalo, NY.  He and his family had been murdered while camping.  In the article, it said a group of boys had broken into the local pharmacy…stolen some drugs.  They went out, away from the town and came across the pastor and his family sleeping.  They butchered every family member with knives.  They were high on the drugs they had stolen from the pharmacy.  I saw my picture in the paper, but never connected the story of the pastor with myself because at the time I wasn’t a pastor and never imagined that I would ever be from New York.

I have had that dream again for the last four nights.  I have been praying, and asking God what to do….where to go…for Him to help us, but all I see is His back, and I hear Him say, ‘I’ve done everything I can do for you.’” 

At this, my Dad totally broke down.  To think that God was turning His back on him was more than he could bear.  But I think it was what he needed to hear, cause Dad was pushing us all to the car so we could get out of there and go find a hotel room for the night.  

My two brothers, best friend, Mom and I were wide-eyed and dumbfounded.  Without much ado, we quickly went into the pop-up camper to grab our suitcases.  But it felt as if it was taking us way too long to get out of there and we kept listening for cars coming our way.  Dad put out the fire, Mom hurriedly put away the food, and as we all finally got into the car and started to drive away, my pal and I were hugging each other and crying.

More later.

God Being Real

These days I feel as if I can almost reach out and touch God in the every day events of my life. Sometimes it sends a shiver down my spine to think that God is here, in my home, being REAL.  I think the first time I remember noticing God’s hand in my life was when I was about to go into 8^th grade.  And really, I recognized it more after I became an adult.  Back in the summer before 8^th grade, I was creeped out more than anything.  But it was a beginning for me, and as I’ve gotten older, I can look back and see God being active on my behalf.

My Dad was what the Southern Baptists call a Home Missionary.  He started a Baptist Church in Cheektowaga, NY called French Road Baptist Church.  Cheektowaga was 95% Roman Catholic.  We moved to New York from Tennessee.  Everyone in Tennessee acted as if we were moving to Africa.  Come to think of it, when we got to New York, all our new friends acted as if we had moved from Africa. 

I was in 3^rd grade, and it was a struggle for me.  There I was, with my East Tennessee accent, and the daughter of the guy who started that “new church” on French Road.  And by the way, yes, we did go to church Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, and various other times when something special came up.  That right there put me in the oddball category with my fellow 3^rd graders who only went to church on Saturday nights. 

The timing of our move couldn’t have been worse.  We moved in April – just missed the Blizzard of ’77.  It was the end of the school year.  It was just plain weird and hard.  I started having “stomach aches” that kept me home from school.  My Dad finally got a clue when he drove me to school one morning and I pulled out the ol’ stomach ache as he pulled up to the curb to let me out.  He told me I had to chill, and I never used that excuse again.

I eventually settled in, made lifelong friends, and cried like a big baby when we moved back down south when I was in 10^th grade.  But to scoot back to that summer before 8^th grade….

Every summer my parents loaded up us three kids still at home (I am 5^th of 6) and we made a trip to Tennessee to go camping.  We went to my parent’s home town.  We did not camp at the local KOA, or whatever you call those campgrounds with showers, toilets and a plug.  We camped out in the woods.  We carried our toilet paper as far as we thought we needed to go for privacy and did our thing.  When we needed to bathe, we jumped in the water hole to get wet, got out and lathered up, then jumped back in to rinse off.  Real camping.  At this point, I have to say God Bless My Mom.  We camped for up to two weeks, and she had all the food we ever needed while we were there and she cooked everything over the campfire.  What a woman.

That last fateful trip – oh yes, we never went back after this trip – my parents let me bring my best friend from across the street.  She was a city girl all the way and had never done any camping so we were having a lot of fun together.  The only thing that dragged down our trip was my Dad.  He was being weird.  As a 13 year old, I could only think, “how embarrassing.”  He was very detached.  Very emotional, and constantly wandering away from the family unit to go do….ummmmm……what?  None of us knew. 

 Okay.  This is getting long.  I’ll finish this tale soon!