Not His Plan

“We make lots of plans but God’s purpose prevails." ~ Proverbs 19:21

We all have a story.  The one God wrote for Alejandro took several unexpected turns.

Despite an education from a major university, he graduated in the midst of one of the country’s worst recession.  No one was hiring.

A friend got him a job at a group home for cognitively disabled adults.  That was certainly NOT part of his career plan.  It was hard work and emotionally draining.

Alejandro was responsible for helping the residents develop life skills until they were ready to live independently.  The most challenging part of the job was helping them learn to control their behaviors when they acted out – a liability he dreaded and seemed ill-prepared to assume.

Jacob, one of the residents in particular, would become violent at times when frustrated.  He did enjoy hiking outside, so Alejandro often walked with him to calm him down.

One day when they were out walking Alejandro suddenly felt something touch his fingers.  Jacob was trying to hold his hand.  Instead of pushing it away Alejandro grabbed his hand and they strolled together in the sunshine.

As they headed home Alejandro felt the warmth in Jacob’s eyes.  They beamed with love, with joy, with goodness.

He closed his own eyes and savored the moment.  He let the happiness soak into his bones, never releasing Jacob’s grip.

It caught him off guard.  In that instant, Alejandro saw past Jacob’s troubling behaviors and his impairment.  He saw who Jacob really was.

For the first time in forever his body and mind relaxed - no expectations on him, no deadlines and no schedules to meet.  This wasn’t his plan … but he liked where it was headed.

Little did Alejandro know that God would use that experience to help prepare him for his own two son’s Autism.  Although his boys often found it difficult to fit in, it helped their Dad see the light that shone within them as well.  Learning to accept, nurture and celebrate their differences was a critical step to encourage them as the men God created them to be.

It helped him realize that caring for them was not a duty but an honor; that every child of God is precious and holy.  They became his best tutors about how to live and how to love.  And when it came to plans, God may have steered his somewhere else, but He always had something bigger and better in mind.

No matter where you are on your faith journey, there’s a plan and a purpose to what you experience.  If you’re struggling, take comfort in knowing you’re not alone.  Be encouraged by reading about others’ experiences who have seen the transforming work of Jesus in their lives.

Heavenly Father, You know me better than I know myself.  I know you have a plan for me, so please don't let my desires blind me to Your will.  Give me peace about whatever is to come, trusting completely in Your hand.  Amen

Souls Connected

“Love God with all your heart, soul, and all your strength.” ~ Deuteronomy 6:5

They’d been in the ER for hours.  Every so often Sandra would lean over and kiss his searing brow as if to cool it, or maybe, to comfort herself.   Her husband, Geoffrey, was clinging to life with a severe infection.

Sandra waited hopefully, feeling strangely euphoric as she reflected on how lucky she was to have so much to lose.  He was her rock, her mystery, the love of her life.

Just yesterday, while sitting before a romantic fire, Geoffrey picked up the stubby end of an indigo crayon and a ragged piece of paper.  He drew a hangman’s noose and the dotted lines of a secret message.  Sandra grinned.

Geoffrey rolled the crayon toward her so that she could use it to guess letters.  Sandra got the first few wrong.  One by one he drew a head, a body, both legs and two arms.

"Give up?" he mouthed, before filling in the puzzle: “You complete me!” it read.

Sandra swept away the mess and snuggled in close.  They’d been married for over 18 years.  That meant she woke up beside him over 6,500 times.  And whether one or both of them rushed out the door with the kids or they savored the intimacy of their last few horizontal minutes together, their mornings always kicked off the same way: with a kiss and synchronized “I love you’s!”

They discussed everything – especially the hard stuff.  They trusted each other completely; assured that neither would abandon the other in the face of anger, conflict or even sickness.

Sandra placed her lips again to Geoffrey’s sleeping forehead and felt a welcome coolness.  She sank deeply into the armchair.  Tension that’d robbed her of rest melted away; her prayers answered.

Successful couples don’t have a magic formula or aren’t simply better matched.  They keep their eye on the prize – a loving relationship, by constantly working at nourishing their marriage.  They never take each other for granted, always blessed by the wonder of their union.  They’re slow to anger, quick to forgive, and leave no tracks of resentment.

God wants us to experience the same kind of relationship with Him.  Those who know Him have a sense of desperation for fellowship with Him.  He’s not simply a priority; he is the priority.  God wants us to trust, admire and love Him with every cell in our bodies just as we might feel with our closest human relationships.

Perhaps the most profound unity we can have with God is when we share His work. Whether that means praying for someone He loves, leading by His example, or bringing a message of hope to someone who’s been wounded, there is nothing like doing God’s will on earth.

Lord, take me deeper.  I don’t know how to worship You like Mary did, but I want to learn.  I want more of You in my life.  I want You to be the object of my affection and all my devotions.  Amen

Into Life

“I leave you with peace, so don’t be troubled or afraid." ~ John 14:27

He stunk of stale cigarettes and his scraggly, hair hung as a tangled mop of mousy grey.  Weighing no more than 120 pounds, Eddy was somewhere in his sixties, but years of living on the street, sleeping on subway grates or flophouse steps, had taken its toll and his mind and body.  Today he was going to do something he hadn’t done in over four decades.

The concrete steps of the St. Joseph’s Cathedral were still wet from the morning rain, but he waited on them despite the dampness seeping through his corduroys.  Eddy was going to church today.  Well, technically he was attending a funeral for a man he barely knew; yet a man whose kindness had enabled a cup of coffee or an occasional sandwich for as long as he could remember.

“Jonesy” had greeted Eddy nearly every morning on the walk to his office with whatever money he pulled from his pocket.  His eyes were what struck Eddy the most.  They seemed to sparkle with a brilliance that glowed from deep within his soul.  They’d chat briefly.  And Jonesy would always close with “Have a blessed day my friend,” before continuing on his way.

Eddy had no details on Jonesy’s passing, but he felt his friend deserved his presence at the memorial service today.

As people started to arrive, Eddy moved to the shadows.  He expected hurtful comments about his appearance so he waited until the service began before entering.  Though there was fear in his chest, there was none in Eddy’s heart when he took his place in the last pew.  He so hoped God would understand.

He was immediately surprised by the joyful demeanor of the congregation.  Beautiful music filled the air without effort; the sound rushing in and around every person in the room.

The tone was happy rather than mournful, celebratory instead of somber.  Almost no one was dressed in black.  Which struck Eddy as strange, because at the altar was a wooden coffin containing the lifeless body of a 56-year-old man.

A few spoke about their relationship with Jonesy.  Most, if not all of them, made sure to express thanks to God.

There was nothing particularly sad or mournful about the scripture readings either.  They seemed to provide a glimpse into a brighter world, a world where all Christians will be reunited, where the bonds of love shall be made stronger, never again to be severed.

Maybe there is something to this Christian stuff, Eddy thought to himself.  Not only did this help soothe the pain of losing his friend, but offered hope for a better world, knowing he’d see Jonesy again, thank him again, and thank God for the second chance starting right now.

Thank you Jesus, that the sting of death has been forever broken by Your resurrection, so that by believing in You, we might have everlasting life.  And remind us that Christian funerals are a joyful celebration of these glorious truths.  Amen

Tune In

“God speaks in many ways, but we don’t always recognize His voice." ~ Job 33:14

“Shhh!  It’s about to start,” Grampa announced fiddling with the antenna.

It would oddly be called the Golden Age of Radio.  Odd because part of this period started during the Great Depression when people were doing without most luxuries, and even many necessities.

But after the initial purchase radio was free, providing a cheap source of entertainment that replaced more costly pastimes such as the movies.  Even though people couldn't afford payments on their washing machines, vacuum cleaners, or Model A Fords, they desperately struggled to keep up payments on their radios.

They weren't just small devices in plastic cases.  Radios were built into large wooden cases that served as elaborate pieces of furniture.  The size was due mostly to various large vacuum tubes in the circuitry.

The Golden Age was more than storytelling; even more than today’s audiobook.   They were movies that played on the biggest screen of all … our imaginations!

Grampa loved that radio.  It was the only object in his home he felt an emotional attachment to.  It never demanded his attention but instead sat quiet and unassuming until called upon.

His family would gather around its bulky frame and fill in the story’s blanks with images in their own heads, much as if they were reading.  Sound-effects artists who’d been laid off with the advent of “talkies” found new jobs providing radio sounds that would guide the creation of those images.

Despite its popularity, radio still had many kinks to be worked out.  Tuning the station to its correct frequency was a constant chore.  So Grampa would stand near the radio adjusting the antenna with as much clarity as he could finesse, then gingerly letting go only to have the static return with frustrating obscurity.

Grampa worked feverishly to keep the program “tuned in” so as not to distract or disengage the family’s entertainment.  But it was so worth it – like spending time with an old friend.

Now that radio sits idle beside my bed (vacuum tubes are nearly impossible to find these days).  I play the greatest hits from my own golden years on my new-fangled Smartphone and pretend to ‘tune in’ Grampa’s old radio to the airwaves of yesteryear.

Today a different kind of static clouds and jumbles our hearts and minds – the static of busyness, societal pressures, cheap advice, self-absorption, and (anti)social media.  We’re often so busy and the world so loud that it’s difficult to hear God’s voice, especially since He often speaks in tones that are still and small.

Some Christians even live their lives on “airplane mode” completely tuning out the messages God sends to us continuously throughout the day.  We have a direct link to the Throne of Grace — no antenna required.  He’s always speaking to us … but are we tuned-in to His message?

Father, bless me with a seeking heart.  Give me ears to hear and eyes to see the ways You’re speaking to me.   Help me recognize the difference between Your voice and my thoughts.  Amen

Dyn-o-mite

“The Lord said, ”Well done, my good and faithful servant." ~ Matthew 25:21

There’s a reason journalists at major newspapers pre-write the obituaries of famous people.  They want them to be great!  Can you imagine the horror of reading one’s own obituary – and it was bad … really bad?  Think about that for a moment while I digress.

Young Alfred watched the explosion with childlike curiosity.  It wasn’t its noise, power or intensity that captivated him.  It was the challenge.  As a neophyte chemist, he was determined to produce nitroglycerin, a violently explosive liquid, for practical use.  Nitro in the mid-1800s was so unstable that the slightest jolt, impact or friction caused it to spontaneously detonate.

To make its handling less dangerous, Alfred tested countless additives.  Ultimately he found that mixing nitro with clay turned the liquid into a paste that could formed into rod-like shapes.  He patented his invention “dynamite.”

The new, safer explosive immediately found many industrial uses, such as mining, quarrying, and demolition.  But when WWI broke out, dynamite began fueling war machines on both sides.

Despite being a pacifist, his factory continued producing nitroglycerin-based explosives, defending this incongruity by saying he was trying to produce weapons so destructive that no-one would dare use them - thus eliminating war.

Sadly, that strategy failed.

When his brother Ludvig died in 1888, a French newspaper erroneously published Alfred’s obituary by mistake.  Imagine his shock when he read the headline “The Merchant of Death is Dead.” It went on to say that “he’d become rich by finding ways to kill more people faster than ever before.”

Horrified to read that he’d be remembered for eternity as the man who indirectly caused so much death and carnage, Dr. Alfred Nobel decided that history should remember his name for a greater purpose.  He devised a plan to devote 94% of his estate (about $265 million) to a series of prizes for “those who’ve … conferred the greatest benefit on mankind.”

Since 1901, the Nobel Prize has been honoring men and women from all corners of the globe for outstanding achievements in physics, chemistry, medicine, literature, and peace.

No eulogy ever says s/he dressed well, lived extravagantly, took fabulous vacations, drove an expensive car, or built the most expensive home.  Those who are most mourned are people who enhanced the lives of others.  They were kind and loving.  They had a keen sense of their duties.

When they could, they gave to charity.  If they couldn’t give money, they gave time.  They were loyal friends and committed members of communities; people you could always count on.  They were the essence of lives well lived.

What will be your legacy?  How would you like to be remembered?  Will you be missed?

Father, I love to be in control and cling to anxiety with stubborn pride.  Show me how to be more like Your son Jesus so that You will be glorified!  It’s a daily battle that can only be won with Your grace - not by my own determination and desire.  Amen

Silver Spoon

“Let everything you do reflect the integrity and seriousness of your teaching." ~ Titus 2:7

I was born with a ‘silver spoon’ in my mouth.  My five siblings and I shared one bedroom with whatever stray pet wandered our way.  Our home had another room for my parents, a half bath and a kitchen.  Back in my day, there was no welfare; no food stamps.  But we always had plenty to eat, because every time we asked for seconds, Dad would say, “No, you have plenty.”

You must be thinking “That doesn’t sound much like a silver spoon!”  But we were rich beyond imagination.  My parents taught us that in this great country, if you get an education, you’re willing to work hard, and overcome problems and difficulties, you can amount to something.  Life’s a matter of making choices and then taking personal responsibility for the choices you made.  Having hopes, dreams, and ambition is absolutely critical.

You could say my parents were “OLD SCHOOL.”

My folks didn’t cave to the idea that children must be engaged in numerous organized activities to have a great childhood.  My dad once described me as an octopus of crazy limbs in constant motion who occasionally got into trouble.  But for us, the 12-month cycle of constant scheduled activity didn’t exist.  That resulted in more family time and less stress.  Somehow we grew up just fine.

My parents’ generation was far less prone to over-spend and ruin the family finances.  They were thrifty, lived in smaller homes, and were less concerned with continually upgrading their lifestyle.  As a result, they saved more and enjoyed greater financial stability.  Not luxury, stability.

Chores weren’t rewarded – they were expected.    My parents were big supporters of the idea that “you get paid with a roof over your head and food on the table.”

Early each morning Mom pushed us outside and didn’t allow us back indoors until lunchtime.  We were expected to entertain ourselves and make our own fun.  We had decent supervision, but weren’t constantly showered with attention and praise.  Going to church was never a question, but rather the answer.  Misbehaving bore consequences.

We didn’t get time outs.  Dad wasn’t afraid to discipline us if we messed up.  Spanking was never excessive and he always explained why we were getting punished.  Today the pendulum has swung too far in the other direction, depriving kids of the kind of consistent correction they need.

Silver spoon – oh yea!  I was a fortunate son.

I never once questioned whether my parents loved me.  They continually sacrifice everything so that I could have the right start in this world.  They gave me a strong sense of wrong and right, and I have them to thank for the strong work ethic, morals and faith I have today.

Heavenly Father, thank you for my two “Silver Spoons.”  I’m so grateful for their love, attention, guidance, help understanding, wisdom and even (infrequent) discipline.  Help me to be as loving to them as they were to me.  Amen