when we don't want to read: moving from apathy to prayer

21 Christian men were beheaded this weekend by the Islamic State.  It’s trending on Facebook as Christian friends across America share their horror and a call to pray for our brothers and sisters that are being persecuted and killed.  21.  And that’s just the deaths that were made public.  Who knows how many Christians have died anonymously today, their churches burned down, dying in the darkness of a brothel, or beaten to death for not denying Christ.  

But I brush past it.  I look to other posts about SNL’s 40th anniversary or a baby’s birthday or anything, anything else to help me forget the distant horror and my inability to prevent these things from happening to my brothers and sisters.

I shudder at my apathy, my attempts to move on before sitting with this tragedy and praying for the ones who lose everything for the gospel.  The gospel that I have the audacity to say means everything to me as well.

So I stop, I try to think, make myself reflect.

I think about my family.  My family.  The one thing that helps me connect the dots of empathy when others suffer.  What if my husband was on that video?  What if today my daughter was stolen from me and sold into slavery?  The stabs of pain that rise instinctively in my heart make the souls of sisters who lost their husbands, brothers, fathers today appear in my mind and rest in my heart. Screams buried in pillows and unconsolable weeping on the floor.  Crying out to God for vengeance, to God for mercy.  Or no words, just Spirit groaning that we cannot, dare not utter.

When I stop and think, and reflect on the God these men died for so bravely... I understand the God in my Bible better than I did before I woke up this morning.  I understand why God will judge and avenge.  What father will not seek justice when his children are brutally murdered before him?

I understand better why the Jews cried out for God to repay their enemies after they were oppressed and killed by their adversaries.  I understand why Jesus is coming back and will separate the wheat from the chaff.  Because my soul wants vengeance, I want justice for every innocent person that dies worldwide.  For every child that dies without a choice, for every child that loses their parents, for every wife that loses her husband, for every parent that loses their children.  I want to scream, “No more!  Jesus, precious Jesus, please come back!  No more bloodshed!”

And then I think about Jesus Himself, dying brutally on the cross, no stranger to suffering.  Dying for us, dying that mercy could be extended even to the ones who killed Him.  

Mercy.  My God, the God of the 21, is not only a God of judgment.  But a God of mercy.  And He waits, in His waiting for judgment there is mercy.  I remember that there is mercy because all the murderers and the murdered are all children of God, sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. He gives one more minute, one more hour, one more day, one more year.  One more chance for the murderers, the ones who murder innocent people and the ones who murder in their heart, for the adulterers, for the liars, for the coveters, for the abusers, for the thieves, for the gossipers, for the apathetic, for the careless, for the victims.  One more chance for every one to come to Him, because He made us, He loves us, and wills that none should perish for eternity even though we die temporarily... He has mercy because our eternity is hanging in the balance, and He wants us to spend it with Him.

Most days judgment and mercy are hard to reconcile.  But today, if I stop and reflect, they are clearer than ever before.  Today I’m praying for justice, and praying for mercy.  Today I’m praying for comfort and peace for the sufferers, and that the oppressors would meet the Prince of Peace.  I’m praying that the blood that was spilled would not be forgotten, and trust that God who sees even the sparrow fall, will not let it be in vain.

Today I will not pass by, and will petition the God who sees all to have mercy and judgment in His time.

on passing, love, and regret.

Great Grandma Smit passed away a few months ago.

It was hard not to feel pangs of guilt, the aftermath after she took her last breath.  Grandma was always quiet.  She said very little and usually just sat watching you play and chatter away with your cousins.

As I heard the stories and the memories about Grandma, I felt not just, "I miss Grandma," but "I missed Grandma."  I missed her while she was here, I missed out on getting to know her.

Even though I didn't see Grandma that much growing up, over the course of my life there were many parties that I could have sat next to her, asked her about her childhood, what it was like having eight children, what she missed most about Grandpa, why she loved Jesus, and so on.

But I didn't.  I was young enough to care more about presents, care more about me.  And the older I got, I didn't always know where to start.  So being with Grandma meant giving her a hug and telling her it was good to see her, but that was all.

Despite the regret, there are memories.  Touches of Grandma that thread through my childhood and my sibling's childhood too.  The receiving blankets that she crocheted borders to, wrapped around all of my brothers and sisters as infants.  The washcloths she made that wiped off sticky hands and counter tops   The handmade caramels that were the most important part of the Smit Family Christmas to my brother Isaac and I.  We would stuff our dress clothes pockets with them and savor them for days.

And one day, when I was small, she knelt down on the floor with me and helped me make a puzzle that was too difficult for me to do on my own.  Grandma was a master when it came to puzzles.  I never would have finished that Little Mermaid puzzle without her help.

As I reflected over the passing of Grandma, I wondered if regret was unavoidable.  Whether we don't spend enough time with our loved ones, don't listen enough, don't say I love you enough, or the last thing we said isn't what we wanted it to be... our lives are tinged with regret.  We just aren't as perfect as we want to be, and that unavoidably affects our relationships, especially with those who are closest to us.

A fallen world means fallen relationships, and we feel the sting most bitterly at the passing of loved ones.  What hope is there, when hurt is unavoidable?

As we sat in Grandma's funeral service, I was struck with the depth of her spirit and her love as I heard stories from the pastor and family members.  When Grandma died she left a legacy of love for Jesus and her family, and that legacy lives on today.  I experience it in my family and my extended family... and it is getting passed onto to the next generation already, to our cousins' children and my brother's newborn son Ezra.

This legacy is bigger than the regret in my own heart.  Through the very act of fellowship with family, through loving them and being present with them, we pass on their legacy of love to the ones they loved so dearly.  And one day, we too shall pass away and be reunited with Christ, our loved ones, and there will be no more tears.  The regret is soothed by being with family and making right what was wrong in the past through neglect or selfishness.

Not all families though have a legacy of Christ, or some parts of your family may be more broken than others.  The amazing thing is that the love, the legacy can start with you.  Anyone of us can choose to be the ones to break cycles of dysfunction and familial pain and be that Grandma or Grandpa.... the one that generations from now your children's children will remember and say, we are where we are because Great Grandma loved Jesus.

Abraham was a man like that.  He responded to the call of God and left a history of paganism to become a spiritual father to thousands of generations who love God.

Let the love of Christ take root in your own heart and share it with those you love.  You can change your family's story by letting the legacy begin with you. 

I am learning through all of this, to work on being present with those I love.  To focus, cut down distractions and cherish the moments because young or old, none of us are guaranteed to live tomorrow, next week, or next year.  I want to share the love of Christ everyday through word and deed.

 I  am thankful for Grandma.  I will remember her love for Jesus and her family.  And I look forward to giving her a hug again one day in heaven.

has death won?

Yesterday I got a phone call from my mom two minutes into my morning commute. A couple had been shot close to our home in a car the same color as ours, and she called to make sure we were alive. We are, and I assured her Tim and I were safe and sound.

As I made a left onto the entrance ramp, listening to "Concerning a UFO Sighting Near Highland, Illinois," I saw a pigeon laying on its belly on the side of the road, slowly turning itself around. The last time I saw a bird like that was a robin I rescued when I was nine. I named him Robbie, and he died the next morning. I started to tear up, and forced them back so I could keep my eyes on the road.

Last night, we heard about the bombing and shootings in Oslo. My heart goes out to the people of Norway, to the country of our great-great-grandparents. May God comfort your souls and give you peace.

It is hard to think about death. A serious reflection on it usually brings tears and distress. What if I lose someone I love? What if I die violently? What if I never get to say goodbye?

Death is distressing because we were not created for it. We were made to live forever. But we sinned, and now death is the doorway to eternity, whether that leads us to separation from God or unity with Him forever.

Death cuts us off from everything we have ever known, from the people and community we love, the places we cherish, the joys we cannot seem to live without. But it also reunites us to the ones who have gone on before, to the One we walked with in the garden at the beginning of time.

I would be lying to say death doesn't scare me silly at times. I'm not very bereaved, and it is difficult to know that I will lose people I love. In some ways I think that is ok. Knowing that death will come sooner or later, I want to live life to the fullest now. More importantly, I want to share with everyone around me the secret to eternal peace, love, joy, and life. Jesus Christ.

That being said, I don't want to fear death. Death comes to all and I know Jesus, the Savior. He conquered death by rising again. And He will not allow me to slumber in the ground forever. I will be reunited with Him for eternity. The One who loved me and you so much He died a violent death to save us. I don't need to be afraid of death.

"For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind." 2 Timothy 1:7

Jesus will also make all things right one day. He will wipe away our tears, and there will be no more death- no more bombings, no more shootings, no more cancer, no more starvation, no more suffering. There will be justice, there will be peace.

His heart breaks to see us on earth, suffering under our sin and the sins of others. Suffering for things that we don't deserve, for things that occur because the world is broken not because we are being punished.

A boy in Brooklyn was murdered recently walking home from summer camp. It wracked me up inside as I thought about his little body in pain as he died, to think about his parents. His parents will never be the same. Everyday they are going mourn, everyday they will wonder why they didn't do something differently. I couldn't stop thinking about him, and worrying about the little people I love. And I want justice, I want justice for that little boy and his family. I want justice for the people of Norway.

I don't know where you are today. Maybe someone you love has just passed away, maybe someone you love is battling cancer, maybe someone you love was just diagnosed with autism, maybe someone you love is far from God.

Maybe you don't know how to reconcile yourself to God when you are surrounded by suffering.

Jesus understands. He walked on this earth. He loved those who were suffering, and suffered Himself. And He has conquered death because of His deep, unquenchable love for you. Give Him the burdens you are too weak to carry anymore. Give Him your fears about death. Give Him your suffering.

These are things I am working through. I need to give Him my fear, my worries, my terror, my suffering.

He can carry us. Death will never win, Jesus has already defeated it through the cross.

"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away." Revelation 21:4