I am not sure how long ago I met my dear friend, Lisa. I remember hearing about this recovering drug addict that was attending my church but I never really had opportunity to talk with her. And then one year, she began to attend the Bible Study I held in my home. She came with another friend from our church. And thus began a wonderful friendship.

It seems quite fitting that I share Lisa’s story this week, as on Saturday it will be ten years since she repented of her sins and turned to Christ as her Savior. It has been awesome to watch her grow and change. Her thirst for biblical truth is a wonderful example for any believer who comes in contact with her. She loves the Word and wants to live by it.

We come from two totally different backgrounds and, yet, in the Lord, we have become the dearest of friends. She reminds me of the reality of all that I write and talk about in regards to scripture. She brings a fresh joy and vibrancy to our Bible Study, especially for those of us who grew up in Christian homes and never experienced a radical life change. God really DOES change lives. And, sometimes, in a radical way!

I know that there are some of you out there who have children who are caught up in drug addiction. You feel so hopeless, like things will never change. I hope that this shines just a bit of light into the darkness you are experiencing. Truly, with God, nothing is impossible. As Lisa shows so clearly with her testimony. SO without further ado, here is Lisa’s testimony, a testimony she has had the opportunity to share with recovering addicts on many occasions. May God be praised!

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I was born in Williamsport, PA, held by my birth mother, then my birth father, and immediately taken away to be put into the system of adoption. I wasn’t adopted until I was almost two because I was born with a rash all over my body and poor motor skills which was a concern for those searching for their perfect baby. But God knew and He gave me a very loving, caring parents who thought I could do no wrong. Something I realize now was not so good. Although their unconditional love did show me what it felt like to be loved so very very deeply. This now, in turn, helps me understand God’s love for me.

Growing up as a child was happy. Playing outside with my brother and the five boys next door until supper time and going to the pool every beautiful summer day with my mom all seemed perfect. But as far as church, I only recall Easter bonnets and candle lighting at Christmas. My parents never really talked about God or explained anything about Him. My dad was a Mason and my mom involved in the Easter Star, so only now do I realize why.

In junior high I met a friend and every day after school we went to her house where her parents smoked. We, thinking we were cool, went into their ashtrays and lighted the leftover cigarettes, which gave me a little buzz. This was the beginning of my interest for a bigger high leading to my path into drug use.

I was a drug addict for 38 long years. I started with weed and hash which led me to cocaine, then meth, and any pills I could find. I drank to get drunk for years, I smoked crack for some of the later years. At one point my gas stove was my source of heat during the cold winter months. With drug use comes the total dishonoring of my body. The choice of men left me used and abused often. My nose has been broken, my wrist fractured, I’ve been spit on, and shoved, and used way too many times for me to even want to remember. It was so dark and I was so sad that I hung by head so low that I needed a back brace to hold my shoulders back to try to pull my head up.

I remember actually praying to God to change me–help me! How long was this going to continue? But if this was God reaching for me, I was too deep into addiction to recognize it. I turned my back and fell even deeper. On two occasions, I mixed two lethal drugs together, almost dying. I was found naked in a fetal position in the corner of my house. Once driving, I was fading in and out. I opened my eyes in the middle of a 360, veering off the road, and stopping within inches of a tree. God had plans for me.

I’ve been in handcuffs countless times and finally sentenced to six months in jail for “intent to deliver”, which makes me a felon forever. I went to church in there, promising if I got through this, I was done. I feel it was God reaching for me, never giving up, trying again and again. Yet within one week of my release, I turned away from His open arms and back into my wayward wants into the dark world of addiction yet again.

Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I held my dad as he took his last breath of life. For the next year, I slipped further and further into addiction and depression. I continued with many pills and found my way to other unspeakable methods of getting high, staying up for days on end until finally, I overdosed! My nephew found me with no other option than to call 911. I do not remember the paramedics slicing up through my clothing to paddle me to bring be back, nor do I remember the ride to the hospital. The first thing I do remember is coming to and the nurses asking me my birth date and name. I had no answer because I had no idea who I was. This was it: I had hit bottom. Yet God was not done with me, He had plans for me!!

I went home and knew I wanted no more of this life. I had called for rehab but the upfront costs of $42,000 just wasn’t doable for me because I wasted $40,000 of the money my father had left me. I thought to myself, I cannot do this on my own. I am going to ask God, the only One I somehow knew could help me.

I had a friend who I worked with who attended a local Bible church. About a year earlier, I let him talk me into attending, but at that point, I wasn’t ready. I went back to him and told him I’m ready to change my path in life. I said I would try this church thing. So one particular Sunday I went and let me tell you, I cried and cried, feeling as if the pastor was talking directly to me. The songs, as well, were relating directly to my life and I was like, wow, what is happening??

The next two weeks my friend would text me, checking on me, asking if I was saved. Oh yes, I believe in God, for sure! He said, no, are you saved? Oh, yes, I was baptized as a baby, I have a picture if you’d like to see it! No, he said again, are you SAVED? I said, well, then no, because I have no idea what you are talking about!

The very next Sunday, at the end of the sermon, the pastor asked for anyone who wanted to accept Jesus as their Savior to come up to the front of the sanctuary, but I was too afraid. So afterwards, I went to him and said I wasn’t saved and needed to talk to him. That very same day, January 25, 2015, I went to his office along with his wife and accepted Christ as my Savior. The following Sunday the pastor said if anyone is sure and confident of their choice, they should come up front and I’m thinking, “hmmmm?” Since he preached about hell that day, I just about ran up front and proved to myself and the public that I meant business.

It hasn’t been easy, I relapsed twice during the next four months but I continued to come to church and plug myself into any Bible study and prayer meetings available. The congregation caught wind of my story and began embracing and encouraging me, as well. God was not going to let go of me this time because now the Holy Spirit was living in me. I didn’t completely understand what that meant, but I knew I was different. I quit swearing and smoking, something I never thought possible.

But with God ALL things are possible (Matthew 19:26).

I have since been baptized, telling my story to over 300 people. It has been, and continues to be, almost unreal at times. God has pulled back my shoulders and lifted my head up as I continue to seek Him. I no longer need that back brace anymore. He continues to perform miracles in my life. I trust the Lord with all my heart. I do not lean on my own understanding. I acknowledge Him in all I do. And He has made straight my paths. (Proverbs 3:4-6).

(Find the rest of the inspiring Changed Lives series here.)

Last night, I saw a reel where a man was asking couples he saw on the street: “What is the secret to a long and happy marriage?” He interviewed three couples and each man gave basically the same answer: Listen to your wife; what she says goes.

This is actually how many couples make marriage work. The wife leads and the husband follows like a puppy dog. Yes, dear. Whatever you say, dear.

But what does God have to say about marriage? Does God care who leads? When I was younger, there was a lot of biblical teaching on this subject. I am unsure that this is still the case in most churches.

As always, our first step is to go to the Word. What does it say in the Bible about marriage? Ephesians 5:22-25 is one place we can go to to see God’s opinion about marriage and what it should look like–

Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body. Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in every thing. Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it.

I think one of the reasons the church stopped talking about this is because women stopped wanting to hear it. Worldly feminist ideals took root in the hearts of those claiming to love Christ and a disdain and antagonism for this pattern of marriage was a result.

It is rare to hear someone clearly state the truth about marriage anymore: God designed the husband to lead and the woman to joyfully submit to his loving leadership.

Do we see potential issues with this design when carried out by sinners? Of course. Many men do not lovingly lead. They are harsh and unkind and prideful. But that, too, is not God’s design. The husband is sinning if he leads in this manner. And many women do not submit. They want control. They want to be the one who makes the decisions.

I am currently reading through Genesis and this book has many examples of wives usurping their husband’s leadership roles, husbands allowing this, and the two of them together leading their families into the consequences of this departure from God’s design.

Sarai (Sarah) is one example (Genesis 16). She told her husband to lie with her handmaiden so that she could have a child. Abram (Abraham) should have stood up against his wife’s trying to manipulate their future and do God’s job but instead he said, “yes, dear”, and the rest is history. This is an extreme example, as we continue to see the ramifications of his lack of leadership in that decision still today.

I do not know why God designed things the way He did, but I know that God’s way is always best. The husband is responsible before God for his family. I think that is a big responsibility and, frankly, I am glad it is not mine, as a woman. But most men relegate this responsibility to their wives. Sometimes wives don’t even want it. Especially in regards to children.

Another thing that has really challenged the family is the worldly philosophy that our children are the boss. And so we see toddlers telling their parents what they will or will not do. We see kids making demands and running the show. This, too, is a great aberration of God’s design for the family.

Teaching our children to obey and respect us, as their God-given authority, is what will lay the groundwork for their obedience to and respect for God as they grow into adulthood. If we allow rebellion and disobedience when they are two, we can’t expect they are going to just somehow become respectful and obedient as they grow older.

The husband is the leader, the wife is his valuable partner, and the children are a blessing from the Lord and we are to teach them according to scripture. God has such a wonderful plan for families it we’d but follow it.

How important it is that we recognize God’s design for the family and do our best, as genuine believers, to live by it.

Of course, let’s be honest… this is not always easy. Personality can make this a real challenge. Some men aren’t natural leaders and they need to really work at this. Some women are born leaders and so they naturally want to take charge. And some children have extremely strong wills and they can make teaching obedience and submission to authority more than a little challenging!

But, through it all, we need to remember God’s ideal and keep working towards it. We will never do it perfectly (if you’ve learned the secret of how to do this perfectly please let me know!! lol!) but we must keep working at it, no matter what the circumstances or what our personalities.

And there’s no end to this, right? As we get older and move into our empty nest and senior years, the temptation can be to grow lazy in how we live out our faith in the everyday grind. We settle into “what always was”, rather than trying to continue to grow in the area of marriage.

This plays into how we raise our children, as well. We have to do what is best for them, which won’t always feel very good at all. But if we parent by our feelings, we are loving ourselves more than we are loving our children. Such a tough truth.

Let’s be honest, shall we? Satan would like nothing more then to destroy marriages and families, for he knows that a healthy family is the building block of a healthy society. More importantly, I believe he realizes that broken homes and moving away from God’s pattern leads to many issues that keep Christians distracted and depressed and in despair, which keeps them from building God’s Kingdom.

We can clearly see that Satan has experienced spectacular success in destroying the family unit.

While we can’t control society as a whole, we can do what we can to have a biblical marriage and family in our own home. God’s way is best. He didn’t give these “rules” to make our lives miserable. He gave these guidelines because He knows what will actually bring about a happy marriage and successful kids. We obey God because it is right and we don’t follow His guidelines for our own worldly gain but…amazingly, what is best for God is best for us! We are so blessed when we obey God’s commands and follow His will.

I know what I have written here is not the most popular perspective on the topic of marriage and family these days. But popularity isn’t our goal, is it? As a redeemed child of God, our question is: How do I live my life to please God? And we find that answer, little by little, as we search the scriptures. May we all continue, no matter how old we are, to seek after God and desire to please Him in all areas of our lives.

There is a phrase used three times in the New Testament that we give little thought to these days. It is the phrase “born again”. Instead we’d rather talk about “accepting Jesus” or “say a prayer”. But what is this phrase?

This idea of being born again means we have new life! Our old heart of stone is turned to flesh (Ezekiel 36:26) and we are a new creature in Christ; old things are passed away, behold all things become new (2 Corinthians 5:17).

But if we are honest, there is something called “cultural Christianity” and it is without any power at all. And, in fact, this false religion inoculates people against true, biblical Christianity and deceives them into believing they have that golden ticket to heaven and can go on living however they want.

I.W. Charlton puts it like this—

“There is a strong tendency to look upon the Atonement of Christ as possessing some quality by virtue of which God can excuse and overlook sin in the Christian, a readiness to look upon sinning as the inevitable accompaniment of human nature ‘until death do us part,’ and to look upon Christianity as a substitute for rather than a cause of personal holiness of life.”

Oh, how true this is! How many do we know who claim to be a “Christian” and yet show no interest in holy living or pleasing the Lord. Instead, they create a god of their own devices, a god who is all love and no judgement. A god who has provided a way for them to continue on in their sin and their worldliness. The only thing this god requires is that you love others and be a nice person.

That is NOT the God of the Bible.

I am currently reading a book by Amy Carmichael called “Things as They Are”. In this book she shares the very real challenges of being a missionary in the late 1800s/early 1900s India. They are countless and they are beyond difficult. I had no idea.

But the one chapter I did not expect to read was about the nominal Christians of the country. Apparently there was a group of nominal “Christians” but they weren’t alive in Christ.

They had no interest in Jesus Christ or His commands. They were content to live in their deception. They were always nice and polite. And totally disinterested in the truth.

Amy writes this about this group of people in India—

I have told you how much we need your help for the work among the heathen; but often we feel we need it almost as much for the work among the Christians. Over and over again it is told, but still it is hardly understood, that the Christians need to be converted; that the vast majority are not converted; that statistics may mislead, and do not stand for Eternity work; that many a pastor, catechist, teacher, has a name to live, but is dead; that the Church is very dead as a whole—thank God for every exception. We do not say this thoughtlessly; the words are a grief to write. We humble ourselves that it is so, and take to ourselves the blame. It is true that the corpse of the dead Church is dressed, just as it is at home, only here it is even more dressed; and because the spirit of the land is intensely religious, its grave-clothes are vestments. But dressed death is still death.

Dressed death is still death. People can use all the right words and phrases; they can be the nicest people in the world; they can serve in their churches and communities; but dressed death is still death.

I read her words and I realized she is describing the American church. And that this isn’t a new problem. There has been this lie in the church for a long, long time. This lie that I can be as worldly as I want; that I can continue in my sin…and, this, because God loves me and forgives me.

The scripture passages about forsaking our sin and the world are conveniently ignored. The passages about denying ourselves and taking up our cross in order to be a true follower of Christ are ignored. They want a one-sided, selfish religion where God gives everything.

But this isn’t true Christianity. When God changes us, He gives us a new heart and He changes our desires. We no longer want to sin or to love the world. And we begin our journey in turning away from these things. Some do this slowly and others change seemingly overnight, but all who have been truly redeemed love God and His Word and, deep down, we desire to obey Him—even if we don’t always “feel like it”.

I, along with Amy, do not write these things thoughtlessly. I write them with much grief. But I also write them because they are true. And if it leads just one of you to have a hard conversation with someone about their soul or to start praying fervently for someone who claims Christ but has no fruit, then I know it will have not been in vain.

While we can’t judge the salvation of another person, God plainly gives us, in His Word, the description of a true follower of Christ. If someone does not match that description in any way, then we have reason to pray for them and to have those hard conversations born out of our deep love for someone. And that none of us enjoy.

I know Amy took a lot of grief for writing the truth about the mission field. And, in fact, she talks in the book how the people didn’t want to hear the truth of the mission field but just wanted all the happy stories. And yet Amy had the courage to write the truth because it was the truth.

This love for happy, positive stories has grown until people can hardly bear to read anything negative. And, in fact, those who dare to speak the negative are demonized.

And, yet, the truth is still the truth. Dressed death is still death.

Life is made up of wonderful truths and hard truths. The Bible is filled with wonderful truths and also hard truths. May we have the courage to speak both. And, in so doing, may God use our lives for His honor and glory.

2025 is here. Isn’t that hard to believe? Time just keeps going…and going…and going…

Last week I heard a sermon about the small verse we find in John 3:

He must increase, but I must decrease. (John 3:30)

The context for this tiny, convicting verse is found in earlier verses, where we find John the Baptist explaining that he is not the Christ. John the Baptist made this declaration about his own ministry and it was written down for us to read in God’s Word.

The question from the sermon was simply: How will Christ increase in my life in 2025?

I’ve been thinking about this question ever since.

In looking up the Greek words, we can know that the translations are pretty straightforward—Increase: to augment or grow greater; Decrease: to make less or inferior.

The natural tendency for all of us is to increase ourselves. We want to grow stronger and better and have an easier life. Our natural inclination is to worry about ourselves and how things are going to affect us.

It goes against all that is in us to NOT do this.

That’s where Jesus Christ comes in. Truly. We can’t think of Christ first and foremost if we aren’t saved. This is impossible.

But for those of us who are saved, it’s still hard, isn’t it? At least it is for me. Our love for self doesn’t disappear after we are saved and we continue to naturally be drawn to what is best for ourselves.

Loving ourselves looks so different for each one of us. Some of us are obvious about it. Others of us are not. Selfishness comes in all kinds of ways and it’s a temptation for every single one of us. Saved or unsaved.

The difference is that, as believers, we know that this little verse should be describing us, too. Christ should be increasing in our lives and we should be decreasing.

Let’s think about a few changes or resolutions that people generally make for the new year—things like losing weight, drinking less alcohol, keeping to a budget, and others.

Why do people make these resolutions? We make them because we want to have a better life. It’s mostly about ourselves and our experience here on earth.

And there’s nothing wrong with improving ourselves. Losing weight is a good thing, having self control when we spend money is a good thing, drinking less (or not at all) is a great thing.

My question for myself is: Is what God wants more important than what I want? Is what I want a biblical desire or is it a selfish desire? WHY do I want what I want?

The other night, we were talking about how entertainment has changed our culture. Most of us can’t remember the culture without the black box in our home, filling and gobbling up our precious minutes. And it’s grown and grown, until the culture is utterly consumed by technology. Handheld devices have irrevocably changed the culture and, overall, it is not for the better. Stop and think for a moment how it’s all changed in your lifetime.

How is this relevant to our topic of Christ increasing and me decreasing?

It’s because we never allow ourselves time to think anymore. We don’t pray. We don’t reflect. That little device dings and flashes and we become its slave. Oh, I know this doesn’t describe us all. But, as a whole, this is the culture.

How do we experience conviction on how the Lord wants us to grow and change if we never give ourselves time to think? How does Christ increase in our lives when we are only concerned with the here and now? How do we be the believer that God wants us to be when our attention span is just a few short minutes long and then we lose concentration? How do we learn to think if we can’t even give another person our attention but instead choose to watch a game on TV or look at our phones at a family gathering?

Mediating on God’s Word and discussing the things of the Lord with like-minded believers… do we do this? These are the things that motivate us towards living a life where Christ increases and we decrease.

Last night someone asked me a question. It was a question about whether or not something is right or wrong. It doesn’t matter what the question was. As we discussed it, we had all kinds of opinions.

At one point, my youngest daughter said this: The key is that we are willing to surrender this to God, if we believe it’s wrong.

We never did come to a conclusion about the question but her point was an excellent one.

This is so often our problem, isn’t it? The things that would increase Christ in our lives and decrease ourselves are not things we want to give up. They are wrapped about with our own strong desires and sometimes with deep sentiment and precious memories.

For example, Disney was a hard one for me personally. We had many precious memories as a family that surrounded Disney. I wanted to take my grandchildren to Disney World. When I came face to face with the fact that Mr. Disney was not the nice man everyone says he was and that, in fact, his movies and places promote things that are clearly against scripture, I balked. I rationalized. I denied. I ignored. Honestly, it took much prayer and quite a bit of time to finally remove this from my life. This has been a few years now, and I am not sorry. I have no regrets.

But when we are in the midst of something, we can’t imagine our lives without it. And so we just ignore the conviction that niggles in the back of our brains.

Listen, I am right with you in this. God has made me aware of some real weaknesses in my life that must change if He is to increase in my life.

We can’t do it alone. It’s why our time in prayer and the Word is so important. It is when we are convicted about something that God, through His Holy Spirit, gives us strength and paves the way to change. HE makes it possible. No amount of self-discipline or hutzpa will bring spiritual transformation. It is just a bit like riding an electric bicycle: We need to pedal, but God is the motor. He is what makes peddling up that impossibly steep hill possible.

Thankfully, we aren’t required to change everything instantly. But, little by little, we take small steps towards looking more like Jesus.

I know this is not a “feel good” New Year’s message. But at the, end of the day, as my middle daughter told me yesterday: feelings are irrelevant. And so they are. Feeling good rarely yields biblical fruit.

As we head into 2025, I want to decrease and I want Christ to increase. Will you join me in purposefully setting aside time to pray and be in the Word faithfully? In being more intentional to make time for reflection instead of always gravitating towards something to fill my mind? (Phones, tvs, people)

I am not sure where you are in all of this, but I know how far I have to go. May we grow together, through God’s Word and the power of His Holy Spirit, and look more like Christ this time next year!

Today I present the ending of this year’s story. I hope you enjoyed reading the story as much as I enjoyed writing it! Merry Christmas! (You can find the rest of the story here at this link.)

  I waited in my car at the airport cell lot, Christmas music playing merrily in the background. Matt’s plane was due to arrive any minute and then, together, we’d drive the remainder of the way to Grandpa and Grandma’s house in Frosty Falls. I was only there for about ten minutes when my brother texted that his plane had arrived.
     Soon, I was parked in front of the Arrivals door of the small airport, anxiously looking for Matt, who I had not seen since our time together with Mom. I got out of the car as soon as I saw his tall, lanky frame walk through the door.
     “Oh, I am so glad you came,” I said as I hugged him.
     “Me, too!” He said with a smile.
     We were soon on the road and spent the next two hours catching up on life. He told me about his new girlfriend who sounded perfect for him. Seattle seemed to suit him well and I rather guessed he’d stay there permanently.
     The two hours passed quickly and soon we were pulling alongside the little house on Fir Street. The flowers from summer had all faded away and now the white fence held a number of wreaths all along its length, their twinkling white lights lighting up the dreary day.
     Grandma must’ve been watching for us out the window because as soon as I put the car in park, she was out the door and opening the gate, running towards us with open arms. Grandpa wasn’t far behind.
     “Oh my goodness!” Grandma cried, “this can’t be Matthew!”
     They had never met my brother, as he had been born in Florida, and they were both so thrilled. After giving us both warm hugs, they helped us take our luggage into the house.
     “I am so sorry, Matt, but I only have one guest room. I hope you don’t mind that I set up a little cot for you in Grandpa’s study,” she told him to follow her, and I tagged along. She went back the hallway and stopped at the tiny room that held a small desk and an easy chair with a small hassock in front of it. Along one wall, in front of a bookcase, stood a comfortable looking cot.
     “Oh, this will work just fine,” said my brother agreeably. I knew his feet would stick off the end of that cot and I was proud of my little brother for his good attitude.
     As my brother got settled, I went to the guest room that had served as my room last summer. It felt so perfect being there and I settled in with a contented sigh.

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     On the Sunday before Christmas we went to church with Grandpa and Grandma and then we went to Uncle Randy’s for the family Christmas. It was a wonderful day with family. Matt loved meeting all of his aunts, uncles, and cousins and especially hit it off with his cousin, Luke, who was a few years older than him and also an engineer.
     That evening, Matt and I talked with Grandpa and Grandma about how much we had missed growing up. There was real sadness in this realization.
     Grandpa, also feeling regretful at his part in the broken relationship, mourned the past, “your mom didn’t want anything to do with your daddy’s family and so we stopped trying. But I can see now that we should have tried harder,” he turned to Grandma at this last phrase with a tear in his eye but then he reminded us all to be thankful, “Well, we are all here together now and that’s what matters! I hope we can spend many happy Christmases together in the future.”
     We all agreed and headed to bed.
     Christmas Eve dawned bright and sunny. Grandpa said he was going to take us to see Frosty Falls, which was in its winter glory. Grandma was going to stay home and cook, as she had in mind to make my brother and me a wonderful Christmas Eve dinner. Some of the family would stop by on Christmas Day but tonight it would just be the four of us.
     Frosty Falls did not disappoint. It was amazing in all of its frozen splendor, as the sun turned the icicles into sparkly gems. Grandpa gave us some of its history and shared a memory or two from his own childhood about the falls. And then he started talking about his boys.
     “We’d come here every year as a family to look at the falls and then go for hot cocoa to Glenda’s Diner in town,” he said softy as he remembered and then he looked up with a twinkle in his eye, “Why don’t we go to Glenda’s for hot cocoa now? I haven’t done that for years!”
     Soon we found ourselves seated in a little old-fashioned booth of the homey diner. Glenda’s daughter, a plump and smiling middle-aged woman, greeted us. Soon there were mugs of steaming hot cocoa and pieces of homemade pie on the Formica tabletop in front of us.
     As we sipped on the hot chocolate and enjoyed the pie, Grandpa recalled some of the antics of my dad and his brothers in their growing up years.
     My brother and I laughed a lot as we listened. Suddenly, my Grandpa grew quiet.
     “I haven’t seen your dad since we went to visit him last summer, Tara,” he said seriously, “I thought for sure he’d come around at some point, but we are still waiting and we are still praying.”
     “Me, too, Grandpa. Me, too,” I said sadly.
     Matt, who could hardly even remember Dad, just quietly listened to us. Most of his life had been lived without a dad and he was absolutely loving this time with Grandpa. I suspected that Grandpa was filling a need in Matt’s heart that he hadn’t even realized he had.
     “Well, let’s go see how your grandma is making out,” said Grandpa as he got up to pay the bill.
     As it turns out, Grandma was having a bit of trouble, “I cannot get this oven to turn on, all of a sudden. It was working perfectly fine this morning,” she bemoaned. The warm delicious-looking pies sitting on the counter confirmed this truth. A big beef roast sat in its roasting pan on top of the stove, prepared for its turn in the oven.
     For the next forty-five minutes, Grandpa and Matt worked together to fix the oven. As I watched the two of them, I could see how great it was for Matt to be here. I was so glad he had agreed to come.
     They were successful and around 6:45pm, just a little later than the original plan, we sat down to eat a feast of roast beef, mashed potatoes, baked corn, green bean casserole, and stuffing. We filled our plates and enjoyed a wonderful time of fellowship together, laughing and talking like we had known each other our whole lives.
     We were just finishing up dinner when we heard a small sound coming from the front of the house.
     “Was that the door?” My grandpa asked. We all grew quiet and waited.
     Soon we heard it again. It sounded like a soft knock at the door. Grandpa got out of his chair and went to get the door.
     He came back to the kitchen and who should be following him but Dad!
     “Look what the cat dragged in!” Grandpa joked awkwardly and happily.
     Dad gave a hesitant smile and stood uncomfortably by the kitchen entrance.
     “Raymond!” my grandma cried, “come in, come in! Let me fix you a plate of food!” She bustled around getting all of dad’s favorites and putting them on a plate. Meanwhile, Grandpa grabbed an extra chair and set it right between my brother and me.
     My brother gave me a rather distressed look as he slid his chair over to make room.
     “Hi, Dad,” I said evenly, trying to be friendly despite my uneasiness.
     “Hi kids,” said my dad nervously.
     I’d like to say that was the best Christmas Eve ever. Instead, it was actually kind of strange and awkward.
     But it was the first step that my dad took to heal his relationship with his family. And that was enough.

---

     After spending a couple of awkward hours with us that Christmas Eve, Dad went back to his cabin. But we did see him a few more times over the course of our week and it grew less awkward to be together. And, while he was still a bit antagonistic towards any mention of God, it did seem as if his heart was softening just a bit.
     A week later, my brother flew back to Seattle and I drove back to Florida. But, this time, I was going back to pack up my things. My grandparents had invited me to live with them and I had decided to accept their offer. I had nothing keeping me in Florida and I longed to spend time with my grandparents and the rest of the family I was just getting to know.
     And so it was with a merry heart that I drove back to Florida, said good-bye to my friends, and packed up that little cabin by the lake. It held many precious memories of Mom and my growing up years but it was time for me to move on.
     And so just three weeks later, I found myself pulling up alongside that little house with the white fence for the third time that had become home to me. I didn’t know if I’d ever really get to know my dad or if he’d ever come to know the Lord. These were still big question marks. But what I did know was that I was unconditionally loved by my grandparents and, for now, that was enough. God had given me a family when I needed it most.

Today I present Part 4 of this year’s Christmas story. I hope it provides a pleasant break from the busyness of the holiday season. The final part will be posted next Friday. You can find the entire story at this page, along with all of the other Growing4Life Christmas stories.

     “Well, are you ready to go, Tara Tomato?” My grandfather stood by the door with keys in hand. The last few days had been a whirlwind of activity, as picnics and get-togethers were held in my honor. I had not only met aunts and uncles and cousins, but I had also met second-cousins, great-aunts and great-uncles, neighbors, church family and even my great-grandmother, my grandfather’s mother.
     Getting to meet Grandma Matilda was a wonderful surprise. Energetic and vibrant at the age of 93, she had asked if I would come and help her with “a little project” one afternoon. She had a big box of old photos and she wanted to put some of them in an album for my grandfather’s upcoming birthday. We spent the afternoon getting to know each other over hot tea and photos. I found out an awful lot about my dad’s side of the family that day. I think that was exactly what my great-grandmother had in mind.
     But woven throughout the week was the knowledge that, at some point, I needed to face my dad. Grandpa had informed me yesterday that he thought today would be the best day as any and so I had spent the night sleeping little as I tried to work up my courage. There really are no words to describe what I was feeling.
     Mom had especially asked if I would take my dad her Bible. Even though she had only started reading it a few months before she left this earth, she had marked and underlined and made notes in many different sections, particularly the books of Psalms, John, and Philippians. She had also written Dad a long letter, which was inside a sealed envelope and tucked inside its cover.
     Interestingly enough, she told me that she had never stopped loving my dad and that was why she had never remarried. I was rather shocked to hear this, as I had always thought she had married my dad out of convenience. I found out a lot of things I never knew those last few weeks of mom’s life. She shared with me that her greatest hope was that my dad would come around again to give their life together a second chance. But he never did. She revealed that this was her life’s greatest sorrow. Giving my dad that Bible with her personal letter was Mom’s final message to the only man she had ever loved.
     My thoughts returned to the present and my heart started beating just a bit faster.
     “Okay, Grandpa, I’ll be right there,” I got up from the table where I had been eating breakfast and walked back to my room.
     “Are you sure you don’t want to ride along, Betty? He is your son, too,” I heard Grandpa say.
     My grandma mumbled something in return that I couldn’t hear, but she didn’t go with us so I guess she decided it was best for just Grandpa and me to go.
     Soon we were on the road and heading north out of town. As we traveled, the houses grew further apart and, on either side of the road, tall trees lifted their branches to the sky. We made a series of turns, until we found ourselves on a dirt road going up through a mountain. The ground was covered in bright green ferns, with innumerable pine trees providing the thick shade that was necessary for them to grow. We crossed over a picturesque stream and soon came to a dirt driveway. The mailbox beside it had the number 247 on it.
     “I think this is it,” said Grandpa as he pulled into the driveway.
     He stopped the car and looked at me tenderly, “Shall we take just a moment to pray about this together?”
     I was surprised but grateful he had thought to pray, “Yes, please,” I whispered.
     Grandpa asked the Lord to be with us and to soften dad’s heart. He asked that Dad would be open to the Gospel and that we could restore our relationship with him. And then he prayed for me specifically, that I wouldn’t be too hurt if things didn’t go as I hoped. My throat caught a bit when he said that. I knew that I would be devastated if my dad rejected me.
     “Okay, let’s go,” he said and we headed up the driveway. We traveled for a few minutes through thick woods and then came to a little clearing where a little cabin stood. We could hear dogs furiously barking to alert their master of our arrival.
     We both got out of the car together. In my hand, I held a small bag that contained Mom’s Bible and some of dad’s favorite chocolate chip cookies, that Grandma had made especially for him.
     Grandpa knocked on the door and it was opened by a man with a bushy beard and longish hair who looked slightly familiar. Two well-trained German Shepherds stood quietly at his side.
     “Oh, hey, dad. So you were able to find this place?“ the man said with a wry smile and then he stopped and stared at me.
     I tried to say something, but the words got stuck in my throat.
     “Tara? Is that you all grown up?” My dad asked in disbelief.
     “Yes, this is your daughter, Ray,” my Grandpa said rather firmly.
     My dad’s eyes welled up with tears and he grabbed my hand warmly but then he backed away and his face took on a hard look.
     It would be hard to describe the next few minutes, which were awkward and difficult, to say the least. Dad didn’t really ask me much about myself and he shared very little about himself with me. I tried to explain about mom and give him her last massage. When I handed him the Bible, I did catch a small glimpse of…something. I know he felt something when I gave him her Bible but the tenderness in his eyes was soon replaced with that hard look again.
     I made efforts to talk about his life and about my life and about the Lord but he seemed totally disinterested and, perhaps, even slightly antagonistic when the topic of the Lord came up. I looked at Grandpa, who gave me a sad smile, as if to acknowledge the overwhelming disappointment I was feeling.
     After about a half hour, my dad grew antsy and said, “Okay, well, I need to run to town for some supplies today, so…”
     Grandpa stood at Dad’s not-so-subtle end to our time together and we were soon back in the car.
     “Well, that was awkward,” I sighed. I just felt like weeping.
     “I was afraid it would go like that,” said my Grandpa and then he added, “Ray has built a thick wall around his heart and he doesn’t know how to even begin tearing it down. If only he would turn to God. He’s the only one who can help him at this point.”
     I saw tears in Grandpa’s eyes as he spoke those wise words and knew that he was hurting for his son as much as I was hurting for my dad. I am thankful that, in that moment, I was able to recognize that my dad wasn’t rejecting me personally but, rather, that he was fighting his own battles that had nothing to do with me. It still hurt terribly but it somehow helped a bit to recognize this. I believe this realization was God’s answer to Grandpa’s prayer for me earlier in the car.
     We made our way back to town in silence and when we got home, I went to my room. I could hear Grandpa and Grandma talking quietly beyond my bedroom door. I lay there until I fell asleep.

---

     “Oh, we have just loved having you here! Please do come back and visit! And bring that brother of yours with you!” Grandpa and Grandma hugged me and fussed over me as I prepared to leave. Grandma had baked me chocolate chip cookies, an apple pie, strawberry cream scones, and cinnamon coffee cake to take back home, all which were loaded into a box in the backseat. She had also sent a cooler filled with single dish meals for me to put in my freezer. They were all filled with cheese and cream and they looked absolutely delicious.
     “Grandma, are you trying to make me fat?” I joked.
     She gave me a wink and said conspiratorially, “I think you could do with a little more meat on those bones.”
     We all laughed as I got in the car and rolled down the window.
     “Let’s keep praying for your dad, sweetheart. It says in the Good Book that with God nothing is impossible*. He can break down that wall your daddy has built around his heart,” Grandpa reminded me. He had been encouraging me to pray for Dad since we left his house last week and I had committed to doing so.
     And then Grandpa leaned over by car and added earnestly, “We are serious and not just saying it, Tara, please do come back. Now that we have you in our lives again, we don’t want to lose you,”
     “I will be back. I promise.”
     “When?” My grandma demanded with a smile.
     “Christmas,” I said without thinking, “I’ll be back at Christmas.”
     They loved that idea and so with a promise to return in a few months, I started the drive back to my lonely life.

*Luke 1:37

    Today I present Part 3 of this year’s Christmas Story. I did want to mention here that I fully realize that I can never truly present all the feelings and emotions that come as a result of the events in this story. Telling anyone’s story, whether it be a true story or a fictional story, is always so very limited in its capability to communicate the depth of feelings that surround any event. The dynamics of life can just never be wrapped up in a five part story. Writing is made even more challenging for me as I have not experienced what my main character is going through. Instead, I am drawing from the many conversations I’ve had with people who have gone through these things and also from the extensive reading that I have done. But I do hope that this particular story reminds its readers of the hope and joy that can only be found in Jesus. I truly hope you are enjoying it. If you missed the first two parts, you can find them here. Thanks for reading! Here is part 3–

      I sat and stared at the little cape cod house to my left. The faded blue shutters and old white fence gave it a comfortable appearance. The flowers lifting their colorful faces to the sun all along the fence line completed the picture.
     I opened my car door. It was hard to believe it had already been five months since I had said goodbye to mom. My brother had come from Seattle the last few weeks of her life and then had stayed for a bit to help me sort through her things. We had found some interesting letters and photos that had given us more insight into mom’s life and even found a happy photo of me with my paternal grandparents that had been taken before we moved away.
     It was now summer and I had finally taken some time off from work to take that trip north to visit my grandparents. This seemed like a good first step in fulfilling my mom’s dying wish.
     As I got out of my car, I gripped the old photo I had found. They hadn’t seen me since I was a baby. They would never recognize me.
     I hesitantly approached the door. What would they say after all these years? I was fortified by the knowledge that Mom had called them and asked for their forgiveness. They had gladly granted her request and, in fact, told her that they had forgiven her long ago. As they talked with Mom, they had confirmed my hunch that they were born again believers. And they knew I was coming and had seemed excited about my visit.
     So why was I so nervous? I had no reason to think they would not warmly receive me.
     The summer sun beat down on my head as I opened the gate and made my way up to the front porch. The wood on the porch was in need of a good coat of paint but a quick glance around showed that it was a comfortable, oft-used place. To my right were two oversized rocking chairs with red gingham cushions. The little round table between them held a few books and an old Bible. 
     I lifted my hand and knocked. Within just a few moments the door was opened, revealing one of the faces from the photo. The years had been kind to my grandfather and, though he was certainly older than he appeared in the photo, his kind eyes and warm smile were the same.
     “Oh, Tara! It is so good to see you,” my grandfather exclaimed, tears welling up in his eyes. My plump grandmother came rushing from the kitchen. Her white hair was cut short and perfectly framed her pleasant face with its bright blue eyes.
     I gave them both warm hugs in turn and I immediately felt at home. Grandpa got my bags from the car and brought them to a little bedroom on the south side of the house. While it was small and a bit old-fashioned, it had everything in it necessary for comfort. The bed had a fluffy down comforter in hues of green and lavender and a little lamp stood on the small table next to it, along with a vase holding lavender from Grandma’s garden. In the corner was a comfy-looking chair with striped pillows.
     “How do you like it?” asked my Grandma hesitantly.
     “Oh, Betty, dear, I told you this is a mighty fine room. Don’t you believe your dear old husband?” my grandfather teased.
     “Oh, it’s wonderful,” I affirmed with a smile.
     Grandma breathed a big sigh of relief, “I know you young ones are used to all kinds of gadgets and technology and we don’t have too much of that here, but I do hope you will make yourself at home and enjoy your stay. We are so looking forward to getting reacquainted!” She squeezed my hand warmly as she said this and then continued, “Now, we will let you get settled. Come on out to the living room when you are ready.”
     “See you soon, Tara Tomato,” Grandpa said with a wink as he followed after Grandma. The name had rolled off his tongue without him even thinking. I wondered if that was what he had called me as a little girl?

____________________

     I found my grandparents in the living room twenty minutes later and decided to ask them about the name.
     “Grandpa, you called me Tara Tomato just now. Is that what you used to call me?” I asked as I lowered myself on to the cushion at one end of the covered sofa.
     “Why yes, it was actually. And I guess, in my mind, you’ve always been Tara Tomato, even still to this day,”Grandpa gave a little laugh.
     “You must tell her why, Herb,” said my grandma with a smile.
     “Well, as you know, your parents moved away when you were just a little tike. Couldn’t have been two yet,”Grandpa said thoughtfully.
     “Yes, Mom said I was about a year and a half,” I confirmed.
     “Well, that summer before you left, we were having a birthday party in the backyard for someone…” Grandpa looked at Grandma.
     “It was for Richard, I think,” said Grandma.
     “Oh, yes, I believe it was your Uncle Richard’s thirtieth birthday, if I recall correctly. Anyway, you had somehow toddled away without anyone noticing. Your mama was in a bit of a panic as we searched for you. And do you know where we finally found you?”
     I smiled and shook my head.
     Grandpa continued, “we found you in my tomato patch. And were you a sight! You had found a squishy tomato on the ground and you were having a wonderful time making a royal mess. Oh, how we all laughed at you. From that point on, you were Tara Tomato to me!” He laughed heartily as he remembered that moment.
     I wished I could remember that moment. I wished I could remember these dear people who had genuinely loved me and the wonderful warmth and security they must have given to my baby self. I silently mourned what I had lost.
     We spent the next few hours getting reacquainted with each other. They asked lots of questions about my life and also about my brother, Matt. I told them about how my mom and I had come to know the Lord and we rejoiced together in our common bond in Christ.
     I also found out that they had four boys. Robert, Richard, and Randall were my uncles and Raymond, the baby, was my dad. Robert and Richard had married their high school sweethearts, while Randall had met a girl at college. All three were living within twenty minutes of my grandparents.
     I also heard about my cousins, who were a range of ages. Two of the girls were about the same age as me and Grandma was excited for me to meet them.
     “I just can’t wait for you to meet Jayne and Melissa. You will all get along so well, I am just sure of it,” she said with a happy grin.
     I felt a bit overwhelmed but I knew how important it was to my grandparents for me to connect with the rest of the family. And I wanted to, too. But I had grown up without any family and suddenly, there were grandparents and uncles and aunts and cousins. It was just so… overwhelming.
     After a dinner of ham, potatoes, and green beans, we found ourselves back in the living room. They were so easy to talk to and conversation easily flowed. Having the Lord in common also opened up the door for many different topics and we had a wonderful time talking about all kinds of things that evening. In fact, it felt like we had talked about every topic except one.
     It was growing late and I didn’t want to go to bed without at least asking.
      “So, I wondered if you could tell me anything about my dad. Mostly I’d like to know where he is,” I said.
      Grandpa looked hesitantly at Grandma and then spoke, “Yes, your mom asked us that, too. When she asked we didn’t know. But just two weeks ago, Ray stopped by completely out of the blue. He didn’t stay long and he didn’t seem to be interested in renewing the relationship but he did want us to know he was okay. He looked pretty good, didn’t he, Betty?” At this my grandmother nodded.
      Grandpa continued, “he told us he had been clean for five years and that he was living with his two dogs in a little cabin about twenty miles from here. We asked if we could visit and he didn’t say no. But he also didn’t seem too excited about it. So we haven’t done anything yet, have we, dear?”
      Grandma smiled sadly as she answered, “No, we haven’t. We were thrilled to hear he is doing well, but we were so disappointed to find out that he didn’t seem interested in being part of the family again. So we aren’t sure what to do at this point.”
      “Grandpa, do you think you could tell me how to find that cabin? I have something I have to tell him for mom. It’s really important.”
      “Well, I guess I could do that,” Grandpa mused, “but I am afraid you may be disappointed.”
      “I’ll have to take that chance,” I said.
     Soon after that, I found myself in my cozy bed with questions crowding my mind. Would I recognize my dad? Had my dad ever loved me? Why hadn’t my dad looked for me? Deep down inside, I realized that I was still that little girl longing for her daddy’s love. How would my dad respond when I finally would see him face to face after all these years? I was scared.

Do you ever find yourself grumbling to yourself about someone? Or perhaps about the housework that is never ending? Grumbling comes so naturally, doesn’t it? Our homes, our jobs, our churches, our families, even our pets… no aspect of our lives are free from the temptation to grumble.

I’ve been thinking a bit about thanksgiving and what it accomplishes in us. I read the verse from Psalm 18 this morning and it just reiterated what I’ve been thinking. This is not going to be a long post but I thought I’d share what God has been teaching me (or perhaps reminding me of what I already know…) It is especially pertinent to me because I’ve been a bit more grumbly than usual.

There are many verses in the Bible about giving thanks. God desires that we give thanks. The terms “with thanksgiving” or “giving thanks” are found throughout scripture. And, in fact, Paul tells us to give thanks in everything…And that this is the will of God. (I Thess. 5:18).

Why does God will that we give thanks in all things?

First, I think it is important to note that it doesn’t say “for all things”. It’s hard to be thankful for troubles and trials. However, in the midst of the troubles and trials, we can find things to be thankful for.

I have not studied this topic in depth but I do know that, as is always the case, giving God glory and fulfilling His will, is also what is best for us. Giving thanks changes us from the inside out.

You just cannot give thanks and grumble in the same breath. If we are thanking God for someone, it is impossible to complain about them. We can thank God for one good thing about that frustrating person—even if it is only that they are helping to mold us to look more like Christ! If I am thanking God for the ability to do laundry, for the comfortable home I have to clean, and the food I get to prepare, I just can’t complain at the same time. They are totally incompatible.

Remembering the blessing of the health we do have instead of dwelling on the aches and pains. Remembering that noisy kids are healthy kids. Remembering that if what (or who) we are complaining about would be taken away, we’d be devastated. Remembering that housework represents having a place to live, clothes to wear, and food to eat. We are so blessed to be able to drive a car, go to the store, to have a job, to attend church and games and concerts and family get-togethers. Oh, that we don’t lose sight of these blessings due to our grumbly hearts.

Thanksgiving does a work in our heart and it is thanksgiving that functions as the antidote to a grumbly heart.

Now if only I could remember that when I am feeling particularly grumbly! But we just take the next step and keep trying to be more and more like Jesus every day. Small changes do add up eventually and we find we are not the same people today that we were a year ago. So let’s be encouraged and let’s be thankful!

It’s Friday and time for part 2 of this year’s Christmas story. (Find Part 1 here)

          After my dad left, life became much less stressful. And, while I keenly felt the loss of my dad, the peace in our home was a much needed respite from the perpetual strife I had experienced in my short lifetime.
          My mom was not unkind, although she was a bit rough around the edges. She did her best and I respected her for that. It wasn’t until I was in my late-20s, that something happened that totally changed the course of my life.
          My mom had worked really hard to make a good life for my brother and me. Again, this was in large part possible because of the kindness of strangers, who paid the rent for us to live in that little cabin by the lake until Mom had put herself through nursing school while working full-time. She graduated when I was seventeen and, from that point on, was able to care for her family without help.
          My brother and I were able to find jobs at local businesses and we gave a good portion of our earnings to help mom with our expenses. My “little” brother wasn’t very little anymore, having grown a good six inches taller than me.
          After graduation, I was offered a job as an administrative assistant in the company where I had worked during high school and continued to live at home. But my brother had big dreams of becoming an engineer. He was a brilliant student and earned a scholarship to a great school, graduating with honors. After his four years at university he was offered a job in Seattle, which he accepted. We were so happy for him but so very sad for ourselves. We knew that Seattle meant times together would be far and few between.
          And so it ended up being just me and mom, living a quiet and mostly content life. Several years passed by unremarkably. Until that dreaded and unexpected day.
          Mom was diagnosed with stage four cancer two days after my twenty-seventh birthday. The next year was a roller coaster, one moment experiencing hope for healing and then the next, having those hopes destroyed with the next scan.
          In the middle of that year, something happened that would have repercussions for eternity. My mom decided she wanted to go to church. This was not unexpected. Knowing that her time on earth was short, she wanted to make sure she knew where she was going when she died. She had been agonizing over this since her diagnosis and I knew she had to go on her own search for peace.
          I encouraged her, although I felt no compulsion to join her. If I am honest, I was pretty angry at God at this point. I had already lost my dad and now I was losing my mom. I told her to have a great time that first Sunday morning and went back to bed.
          By God’s great grace and mercy, my mom ended up at a little Bible church a couple of miles down the road. We had passed it countless times and when Mom decided to try church, this seemed a natural choice. Unbeknownst to her at the time was the pastor’s dedication to God and to preaching His Word without compromise. That Sunday, the pastor preached the true Gospel as found in the scriptures and my mom was saved from sin and hell the very first time she attended.
          She came home very excited about her newfound faith. She shared with me that she now had a peace that defied her diagnosis. I humored her by listening but my heart was hard. I’d believe this big change when I saw it.
          But, surprisingly, I really did see it. My mom was a totally different person. I could see Jesus changing her. Oh, it wasn’t instant or miraculous. But, day by day, I noticed that she was living with a new attitude that was affecting how she lived. She really did have a peace that lasted far beyond that first day and she also had a newfound joy that permeated her life, despite her ill health.
          Within a few months, I was joining mom at church and two weeks before she entered eternity, I was able to tell her that I would see her again in heaven. I had repented of my sin and placed my faith and trust in Jesus Christ alone for salvation.
          Those last few weeks together were so very bittersweet. Sweet because now we knew, without a doubt, that we’d see each other again in heaven. But, oh so bitter, because she had become my best friend and losing her was going to be harder than I could even imagine. I couldn’t even fathom what my life would look like without her.
          During those last few days, when she was still able to talk, she requested something of me that was totally unexpected.
          “Tara, dear…I need you to do something for me…” she began.
          “Sure, mom, whatever you need,” I answered. I had no idea how big her request was.
          She began, “I have made a lot of mistakes in my life,”  she sighed and stared out the window for a moment and then went on, “my hard heart and sinful actions caused so much pain and strife for others. I realize that now. I have been able to make things right with some of those I hurt so badly,” her eyes welled up with tears and I remembered the emotional phone call she had had a few weeks before with her parents. She continued, “But I cannot find your father. It’s like he has disappeared. Even his parents don’t know where he is.”
          My heart started to beat as it began to dawn on me what she was going to request.
          “My dear Tara, oh, how I love you,” she continued, “you have been the evidence of God’s grace in my life long before I even knew He cared about me. And now I have this one last request of you: Can you find your father and let him know how very sorry I am? Can you tell him about your faith in Christ and how Jesus changed both of us? Would you tell him that Jesus can change his life, too? I know this is a big request and if you just do not want to do it, I understand…” she stopped, her eyes begging me to say yes.
          “Oh, mom, of course I will,” I answered. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it but I wasn’t about to deny my mom her dying wish. How cold-hearted would that be?
          She started reminiscing about my dad and how much she wished things had been different. Her soft heart was filled with many regrets and mourned over what might have been. It was during that hour of conversation that I found out that my dad’s parents had been the ones to pay for our little cabin all those years.
          “I don’t know this, for sure, Tara, but I have a feeling that your grandparents already know Jesus by some things your father used to say. Plus their genuine love for me and you kids, despite what happened with their son was extraordinary,” as she spoke I remembered the cards and gifts that would come faithfully every birthday and Christmas from Grandpa and Grandma Elsher in New York. And, while I am sure I met them before we moved away, I didn’t have any memory of them at all. I wouldn’t have known either of them if we had bumped into each other on the street.
          I realized, in that moment, that I would visit my paternal grandparents even before I searched for Dad. I owed them a visit. A visit that was long past due.
         “Don’t worry, Mom, I will find Dad and I’ll tell him,” I reassured her.
          My mom sighed deeply and then fell into a peaceful sleep.

As most of you already know, I love missionary stories. Many of the best ones are out of print and about vibrant believers that we have never heard of. One of these is called *Not by Might, Nor by Power. It tells the story of Paul and Etienne Metzler, missionary pioneers in the country of Chad.

They arrived in Central African Republic in the early 1920s, finally getting permission to set up a mission station in Chad in 1926. They found the Africans very receptive and even told the account of one chief who, with tears in his eyes, shared that he had been wondering about a “god who cares” as he lay in his bed the night before the missionaries came to share the good news of the Gospel. Only God, right?

As the Africans started getting saved, they began to hold believers’ baptisms. In order to be baptized, the Africans held special classes and then the person wanting to be baptized would meet with the missionary and a local deacon.

I was struck profoundly by what I read in regards to these meetings. Here is what is written—

     After some months of instruction, a candidate for baptism would meet with the national deacons and the missionary. Often the missionary would have passed the candidate because he or she knew all the answers, but a deacon would disagree.
      “The words of your mouth are satisfactory,” he would concede, “but the words of your life are not. You cannot walk two ways at the same time. When you show that you have left the way of paganism and superstition, we will approve your baptism.”

Can you imagine what would happen in our churches if the church leaders challenged our lifestyles before they would baptize us? There seems to be little (if any) interest in knowing if the words of a person’s life matches the words of a person’s mouth.

If it did happen here I believe cries of “how dare you judge me!?” would rise up rather quickly.

This book is written back in the early 1920s and already we can see that the Americans would have tended towards letting things slide compared to the Africans. And, oh, how far we’ve come since then. There have been slow, steady, subtle changes that eventually brought about a mainstream church that tolerates sin and worldliness and doesn’t tolerate the truth.

It would seem as if actions do not matter, by and large, in the church of today. But what does the Bible say?

First, we know that all that is good within us comes from God. We can do nothing without Christ. Jesus puts it like this–

 I am the vine, ye are the branches: He that abideth in me, and I in him, the same bringeth forth much fruit: for without me ye can do nothing. (John 15:5)

We also see from this verse that when we abide in Christ, we bear fruit. What is that fruit? The Bible gives us much to meditate upon in this regards. But let’s take a look at Galatians 5:22-26 for a “nutshell” description of what we should desire to look like as a genuine believer–

But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance: against such there is no law. And they that are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts. If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit. Let us not be desirous of vain glory, provoking one another, envying one another.

Overall, there has been quite an emphasis on the the specific fruits of the Spirit, as recorded in verses 22-23. Books and songs and sermons abound on the fruits of the Spirit. Love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness, temperance. But do we really stop and think about God’s definitions of these things? Researching each of these words from scripture (and not from some other book) would probably be a really great study for us all.

But let’s take a look at the verse following the verses about the fruit. It’s interesting to me that this verse seems to much ignored in a worldly Christianity. Again, it says–

And they that are Christ’s have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts.

This does not tend to be the most popular topic in our churches today. But if we are going to follow Christ, we need to mine scripture for all of its treasure, even if it’s hard.

What are “affections” and “lusts”? I believe this would be anything that leads us into idolatry or away from God. This includes innocuous things that are not sinful in of themselves, as well as plain old sin and all things God has declared He hates. What does this look like practically for us in this era of Christianity? I don’t have enough room or time to really delve into this but let’s take just a moment to think about this.

If we go back to the Africans, the deacons refused to baptize Africans still steeped in superstition and paganism. What are superstition and paganism? Surely, we do not have any of these things in 2024 American Christianity?

Isn’t it interesting that right now one of the most popular movies (with both non-believers and believers) is the movie “Wicked”, a film steeped in both superstition and paganism?? Witchcraft is no joke to God and we are to avoid it completely. How can watching and enjoying witchcraft on a screen (or on a Broadway stage, for that matter) please our Lord? As I heard a young lady say yesterday: Why would we want to fill our lives with the things that Christ went to the cross to die for? Ironically, earlier in Galations 5 (verse 20), witchcraft is included in the list of things that keep you from inheriting the Kingdom of God. Dabbling with it any way is displeasing to God and oh, so dangerous.

But let’s think on this idea of superstition for a bit. Practically, it is the mysticism that surrounds us in both our culture and our churches. It’s believing that if we talk about something it will happen. It’s believing in messages from our loved ones who went on before us to heaven. It’s relishing and longing for supernatural experiences. I believe there’s actually far more superstition in modern day Christianity than we realize.

But shall we take a moment and look beyond the paganism and superstition that was the evidence of a disingenuous profession in 1920s Africa and take a hard look at our current “Christian” culture specifically?

I submit to you that it is the worldliness in our lives that gives evidence of whether the words of our mouth match the words of our lives. God hates worldliness and, in fact, says that if we are friends with the world we are His enemy! (James 4:4) This is extremely strong language, making it clear that we are one or the other and can never be both.

This love for the world has invaded and seeped into our lives in every area. It has entered our minds through education. It has stolen our time through its entertainment and technologies. It has hijacked our brains through ungodly therapies, books, and podcasts. In general, we are a people professing Christ and yet living like the world.

Please hear me when I tell you that I struggle with this, too. I don’t think this is something we can ever conquer on this side of heaven. The world has so invaded our hearts and minds that we scarcely realize how much.

BUT…

As the Lord convicts us we must act on that conviction.

We can’t just throw up our hands in the air and cry, “It’s too much! Just forget it!”

I was talking about this with someone just last night. There are so many ways the world has invaded that it feels like our choices barely make even a dent in our lives as we strive to move towards holiness. But we must soldier on, surrendering one thing at a time, as the Lord opens our eyes.

I have told you often before how God has been at work in my life in showing me areas that keep me from being holy and godly. I have shared how, despite my initial rebellion and unwilling heart (which has sometimes lasted years), that final surrender has been filled with sweetness and zero regret. Oh, how I have fought God on certain things. He must get so frustrated with me.

But, one thing at a time, we yield what He reveals to us. So let’s not worry about being perfect because it isn’t going to happen. Let’s just worry about today. How can I please the Lord with my life today?

If the African deacons were familiar with my lifestyle and interviewing me, would they be willing to baptize me or not? Would they say that the words of my mouth match the words of my life?

* Not by Might, Nor by Power, written by Joyce Metzler Baker, is hard to find in hard copy. Amazon has the wrong book linked to the title in Kindle so please don’t purchase it. You may be able to find a copy at Thrift Books (which is where I got mine). There is so much more to this faith-building book than this one excerpt. It’s been such a blessing to me already and I’m only half-way through. I feel comfortable recommending it to you (usually I wait until I am done with a book, just in case) because someone I trust recommended it to me. I hope it’s as much a blessing to those of you choose to read it as it has been to me.