Fear of Rejection

“May the God of hope take away your fear and fill you with joy and peace as you trust in Him.” - - Romans 15:13

Fear can paralyze; he knows this first hand.  For months Lance had been trying to drum up the courage to ask his boss for a raise.  He knew he deserved it; others’ requests had been granted.  Why was he always the last to be recognized? 

He’d do it on Friday – that way if got turned down, he’d have the weekend to recover before having to face his employer again.  But how would he recover?  Lance didn’t drink.  He was hopeless at hiding his emotions, especially disappointment.

Then he’d have to face his Sandy.  Not that his wife was uncaring – quite the contrary.  But the pain she would feel for him was worse than the ache he’d feel in his own gut.  Maybe it wasn’t worth the risk, he thought. 

Friday arrived with nervous anticipation.  He kissed Sandy before leaving for work.  Privately she prayed for him to have courage – no matter the outcome. 

Late that afternoon he summoned the nerve to approach his boss.

“I know you called this meeting Lance, but I’d like to hijack it briefly,” he started.   I’ve been meaning to talk with you about a raise!”  Lance blinked twice to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.  “You’ve worked extra hard this year and you always go about your job without complaint.  I appreciate that and many other qualities about you,” he confided.  “Thank you!”  

Speechless at first, Lance managed a simple “Thank you,” noting they’d continue the talk later.  

The story gets better.  Lance returned home to a beautifully set, candlelit table.  Sandy had prepared his favorite meal.  Someone must have tipped her off, he reasoned.  Maybe a formality now, but her told her the remarkable story anyway.

They embraced warmly, exchanging goose-bumps one to the other.  One last kiss before they sat down for an exquisite dinner.  Placed conspicuously beside his plate was a handwritten note that read: "Congratulations, darling!  I knew you'd get the raise!  This celebration tells you how much I love you."

While on his way to the kitchen for dessert, Lance noticed that a second card had fallen from her pocket.  Picking it off the floor, he read: "Don't worry about not getting the raise!  You deserve it anyway!  This celebration tells you how much I love you."

Total acceptance!  Her unfailing love didn’t depend on his success at work.  In fact, just the opposite.  If rejected by his boss - he'd be all the more accepted at home.  We can be rejected by almost anyone if we're loved by one.  Anxiety doesn’t stand a chance against the power of the Holy Spirit.

God of love, we learn to love because we are loved.  Teach us to love not contingent upon success, money, fame or appearance.  Thank you for always standing behind us, softening the blows, healing our wounds, and believing in us.  Amen

A Horse With No Shame

"The Lord watches over everyone who obeys him, and he listens to their prayers.” – 1 Peter 3:12

Just up the road from our home is a field, where two beautiful horses roam.  From a distance, each looks perfectly normal.  But when you stop to visit, you’ll notice that one of the horses – Donald, is blind. 

Plenty of people would tell you to put him down.  They’d say that horses can’t have a good quality of life if they’re blind.  Bud, his owner disagreed.  Going blind must be frightening.   But a blind horse can still savor a scoop of grain, try to take a treat out of your pocket, and whinny at the sound of human footsteps.  They want to do everything a sighted horse can do (except unlatch gates!) and enjoy it just as much.

Bud took special care in this pasture, replacing barbed wire with smooth wire fencing, cutting down low-hanging tree limbs, and filling in holes with gravel that a hoof could slip into.  He even signaled the presence of telephone poles by placing old tires around their bases.

But he did one more thing.  If you're nearby and listening, you’ll hear the sound of a bell.  Looking around for its source, you’ll see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field – namely Daisy.  Attached to her halter is a small bell.  It lets Donald, her blind friend know where she is, so he can follow her.

As you stand and watch these two friends, you'll see how Daisy is always checking on him, and that Donald will listen for her bell and then slowly walk toward her, trusting that she’ll not lead him astray.  When she returns to the shelter of the barn each evening, Daisy stops occasionally and looks back, making sure Donald isn't too far behind to hear the bell.

Like the owner of these two magnificent creatures, God doesn’t throw us away just because we aren’t perfect or because we have problems or challenges. He watches over us and even brings others into our lives to help us when we are in need.  How cool is that?

He constantly recycles things that others might find useless.  God didn’t discard Adam and Eve for their unfaithfulness, or Noah or Abraham or Moses or any of the prophets.  He didn’t discard Peter after his denial, or the Sons of Thunder for their ambition.

Sometimes we are like Donald - being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives to assist us.  Other times we are like Daisy, the guide horse, helping others see.  Good friends are like this.  You may not always see them, but you know they are always there.

Lord, Your patience and love towards us is unbelievable!  We praise you for clinging to us, remaking us, and shaping us into persons that can bring honor to You.  Thank you for not dumping us because of our imperfections.  Amen.

Bully For Life

“Love those who hate you.  Bless those who curse you.  Pray for those who treat you badly.” – Luke 6:28

Just as Xiang (Chinese for good man) prepared to order his favorite breakfast, a rather attractive woman tapped him on the shoulder.   "Is your name Xiang by any chance?" she asked.  

Confused, he’d never seen this lady before.  Pretty women always made him nervous due to his imperfect English and bashful nature.  His body language screamed fear.

"I’m Dawn – my husband Bryan [pointing to a distant table] thinks he knew you from middle school,” she offered timidly.

Xiang glanced in the direction she was pointing but didn’t recognize the man alone in the corner.  “I’m sorry," he said.  “The name’s not familiar." 

She turned and walked back to her table.  Xiang ordered food and a cup of green tea.  Who was this guy Bryan?  Maybe a classmate?  But Xiang was shy and had no friends back then.  He sipped his tea.  Suddenly, painful emotions roared back like a locomotive through an open wound.

Bryan, aka 'Bruiser' – the seventh grade bully.  How many times had 'Bruiser' poked fun of his Chinese heritage in front of others?  Or joked about him having no parents and living in the orphanage?  How embarrassing - when 'Bruiser' slammed him against the lockers just to impress the girls?

Xiang swung around on his stool to face 'Bruiser.'  Wow!  He's so thin - not the big burly guy he remembered from 1973!  And why is Dawn feeding him?  'Bruiser' raised a weak hand to wave.  Xiang acknowledged the gesture and turned back around to continue eating.

Soon 'Bruiser' passed by him . . . pushed by his wife in a wheelchair.  Xiang pretended not to notice, but couldn’t help watching.   They made their way to a large van.  Dawn tried repeatedly to get the ramp to come down without success.   Xiang paid for his meal and approached the van.

"Darn thing sticks sometimes!  Could you help me get him in the van?" Dawn asked meekly.  

Xiang rolled Bryan over to the passenger door, set the wheelchair’s brakes, and opened the car door.  "OK!  Arms around my neck please," Xiang said as he reached down and grabbed Bryan around the waist, carefully lifting him into the van’s passenger seat.  Once secured, Xiang swung Bryan’s limp, lifeless legs, one at a time, into place.

“Is this how you felt back when you lived in the orphanage?” Bryan asked with newfound compassion.

"Almost.”  Xiang responded.  You’re lucky - you have a helper who loves you.  I didn't have anyone.  Give me a call sometime!” and handed Bryan his business card.

As the van disappeared onto the freeway, he quietly prayed Bryan would call.  He’d be his first high school friend.  Strange how things work out, he thought.

Lord, we’ve all been bullied: by hurtful words or even physical pain.  You share our fear, sadness and loneliness.  But I’m not worthless, I’m special – because I’m Your child and You love me.  Thank you!

Listen For the Silence

“My sheep know my voice.  They follow me, so that they’ll never be lost.” - - John 10:27

The phone call broke her restful sleep.  It was after midnight and panic filled Annette’s sluggish mind as she grabbed the receiver.  Her heart pounded with dreadful anticipation as she answered, “Hello?”

“Mom?” a voice whispered barely audible over heavy static. 

“I know it's late, but don't say anything until I finish, OK?   And yes, I've been drinking.  I ran off the road a few miles back and . . . [Annette drew in a shallow breath.  Wide awake now, something wasn't right.  She grabbed her husband’s wrist.]

“ . . . and I got so scared!  What if I’d been killed without saying goodbye?  I want to come home.  Running away was wrong.  I should’ve called days ago . . . but I was afraid!”

Sobs of deep regret flowed from the receiver.  Annette tried to interupt, “I think . . . “

“No!  Let me finish,” she pleaded.  “I miss you, I want to come home!”

Her husband, sensing trouble, left to listen on a portable phone.  The girl must have heard the click in the line because she asked, “Is that you Daddy?  Please don't hang up!”  They stared at each other, looking for guidance.  “I'm here, I wouldn't hang up,” he said. 

“Listen please,” the girl continued.  You think you have all the answers.  But sometimes I don't need answers; I just want you to listen without reacting.”

Annette swallowed hard, “We’re listening,” she whispered in a consoling voice.

“I get it!  I know I shouldn’t drink and drive, so I called a taxi.  I’m coming home.”

“Thank God!” they both said simultaneously.  Her husband sat down beside her and laced his fingers through hers.  Only when they heard someone in the background asking about a City Cab did relief wash over them as the phone went silent.  

Hand-in-hand they walked down the hall into their 12-year-old daughter's room.  Wiping tears from her thankful cheeks, Annette said, “We have to learn to listen!”

He studied her for a brief moment.   “Do you think the girl on the phone will ever know she dialed the wrong number?”

Annette looked at her sleeping daughter, then back at him.  “Not a wrong number - that must have been His plan!”

It’s like that with God sometimes – we talk, we pray, we ask for help . . . we don’t always listen.  Listening to God is different, but He blessed us with many ways of communicating with Him: our conscience; the beauty we see in His awesome world; witnessing His love in others; His written Word; our dreams and visions; and most importantly – His Son Jesus Christ.

Father – Yours is not the only voice we hear.  We listen to ourselves, as well as the thoughts of others, angels and evil spirits.  Among all the chatter, teach me to hear Your voice for what is moral, fair and Godly.  Amen.

Wait For the Wind

“The Spirit is like the wind that blows wherever it wants to.  You can hear the wind, but you don't know where it comes from or where it’s going.”  -- John 3:8

Summer was fading, the air was crisp, and the fiery glow of autumn leaves littered the landscape.  Sarah woke early.  After a leisure chocolate chip pancake breakfast, she headed outside to play with her dog Luke.  Today would be perfect for picking apples.

Sarah loved time with Gramps.  He always took time for her.  She wandered through his tool shed, always amazed at the interesting relics.  Oh the stories they could tell.

Sarah spied something unfamiliar.  She grabbed it carefully and raced back to the house with an excited look about her.

"Look, Grandpa," she said enthusiastically, interrupting his crossword ‘puzzling.’  "I found a kite.  Will you teach me to fly it?"

The vault to his memory bank flew open.  He remembered flying this kite with her dad.  It was nothing special; colorful paper on a thin wood frame, an old necktie for a tail. 

No one bought kites these days.  Kids preferred to spend their money at the cinema.  Adults seldom had time.  There weren’t many open spaces left for flying kites. The city had swallowed up the open grassland.

Sadly there was no breeze today; the wind was a still as stone. "I'm sorry," he said, "The wind is dead now.  The kite won't fly."

"I think it's windy enough.  I’ll get it to fly," Sarah countered, as she hurried out the door.

Gramps peeked through the blinds to watch determination in action.  Up and down the yard she ran, pulling the kite attached to a small length of string.  The antique kite never gained altitude.  She ran as hard as her little legs would carry her, looking back hopefully at the kite trailing behind.  After about ten minutes, she came back in.

"How’d it go?"Grandpa asked.

"Fine," she said, not wanting to admit defeat. "I got it to fly some."

As Sarah returned the kite to the shed, she mumbled under her breath, "I guess I'll just have to wait for the wind."

How true!  We wait for the wind only after we have exhausted our own strength.  We call upon God sometimes only after we’ve tried everything else on our own – and failed. 

God knows that sometimes “self reliance” alone isn’t always good for us. We may not be ready yet.  We need some time to mature, to prepare for God to use us.

As we wait for the Holy Spirit to ‘blow’ into our hearts, continue praying, and serving, and worshiping, and keeping the company of those who set the best examples. 

Dear Lord, Your grace is as precious as the air I breathe.  While I wait for Your Plan to unfold, help me to wait actively – to serve, to worship, to pray, to share, to glorify You . . . even while I’m waiting.  Amen

Any Man Can Be a Father . . .

“. . . but it takes a special person to be a Dad!” – Unknown

It was a quiet Saturday morning, and Ken was home.  He loved the refuge of this place.  He’d brought some work to finish from the office and went off to the study to be alone.  He needed some quiet time after a hectic week.

His seclusion ended abruptly!  Carrie, his daughter came into the room crying.  Someone had broken her new doll.  Ken hugged her and told her not to worry: he’d fix her doll.  She thanked her Daddy with an approving smile and skipped cheerfully out of the room.

Next Joey came in.  He needed a ‘loan’ to buy a new video game; his buddy owned the game and had already reached ‘super hero’ status.  Joey would soon fall behind in the battle of video game superiority among his pals.  Ken took time to explain to his son that he’d already received his weekly allowance two days ago with the understanding that it was for such ‘necessities.’

The revolving door to his study continued to turn.  His teenage daughter came in next.  She wanted a new dress for the coming dance.  Ken told her that she’d have to wait; if she saved as much as she could herself, he’d help with the rest.

A teenage son interrupted next.  The boy needed help with a homework problem.  Ken gave him some suggestions, careful not to work the problem for him.  A few minutes later, his son returned to say, “Thanks for the idea you gave me.  It worked!”

Finally, the only child he hadn’t seen yet this morning - the youngest dashed in.  Ken looked down at her and asked kindly, “What do you want, munchkin?”

“I don’t want anything,” the sweet little girl answered as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “I just wanted to be with you.”

Remember the saying, "Monkey see - monkey do."  That’s how parenting works most of the time!  Children mimic the people around them without considering the outcomes.  It’s all they know.

Influencing your children requires that you have a caring relationship with them.  Like Ken.

They have to feel that they can bring any problem to you and feel safe about sharing their doubts and fears.  More importantly, children have to respect the way you live and treat others.

As parents, we need to be honest and admit when we’re wrong.  Children will listen to what you say . . . but they will believe what you do!  Lead by example.  Live your life setting a solid framework of values and ideals for your children to follow.

“Jesus loves me, this I know, for my Daddy showed me so.” 

Papa, all fathers are not always present physically or emotionally.  But we know that we can always count on you – that you love us completely and always have time to listen no matter when or for what reason.  Thank you!

You Are So Special

“I love you, just as my Father loves me.  So remain faithful.  If you obey me, I will love you, just as my Father keeps loving me.  -- John 15: 9-10

Farming and ranching takes grit, spirit, and determination.  Their stories are filled with family, friends, joys and sorrows.  It’s those real life tales that remind us that food doesn’t simply come from the grocery store - it comes from everyday, hard working people.

The livestock they raise are their paychecks, and they treat them with great care.  They become close to their animals – like we love our dogs and cats and hamsters.

Thirteen year old Logan lives on a ranch in Western Nebraska.  That’s right – he’s Husker!  He loves life on the ranch.  He loves life period!  And he loves our God.

One night he and his dad were out roping a small calf.  The practice of catching a calf with a rope thrown around its neck is required sometimes for branding or medical treatment. The calf had been born from a really old cow that really didn’t produce the greatest milk anymore – she lacked important vitamins.  Therefore, her bones and muscles were not well developed.

In the roping process, the calf broke her back.  And in the morning, Logan had to put the calf down by himself.  He was heartbroken.  He blamed himself.  He talked to God – right there in the pasture.

“Why God?  She was special,” cried Logan.  

And God replied, “You know, Logan, My Son was special too!  But he died for a purpose.”  Through his sobbing eyes Logan realized that it’s kind of the same thing.  He loved that special calf just like God loved his Son.  “God especially loves me too!” he reasoned. 

We are all extraordinary in God’s eyes.  You are special even with all your oddities.  You might be short with hair that can't be controlled but hey, you are special.  You might be a math genius.  Maybe you just can't stand math; but you are still special.  You may talk too much, laugh too loud; you might even stink at cooking.  Maybe you hate football or you don't have what it takes to make the volleyball team - but you are still special.  God had you in mind when He made you . . .  and He doesn't make mistakes.  

He has a job for you to do that nobody else can do as well as you can.  Out of the billions of applicants, only one qualified.  Only one has the unique and right combination of what it takes.  You’re the ONE!

So stop trying to be who you are not.  Gather the courage to be as unique as God made you!

Sweet Jesus – Thank You for making me so special in your eyes.  Help me see myself the way You see me – especially when I am lonely, or frustrated, or mad at myself.  Remind me, Father, that Your love for me is endless and ginormous.  Amen.

Signed Jesus and Me

 “Everyone who has faith in me will live, even if they die.” – John 11:25

With cheerless eyes, his mother thanked the nursing staff for taking such good care of her young son while he was sick.  She wept now, “Where was God when we needed Him?” she asked to no one in particular.

She left the hospital for the last time, a small bag with his belongings clutched close to her heart. She knew it would be hard to enter their empty house – a home that was once filled with little boy toys, and laughter, and bedtime stories.

She placed his life’s treasures back in his room exactly where he had kept them.  Hugging his pillow, she lay across his bed and sobbed until sleep came.  She woke around midnight.  On the bed beside her was this neatly folded letter:

Dear Mommy:

I know you miss me.  But I’ll never forget you just 'cause you can’t see me.  I’ll love you even more each day.  Someday we’ll see each other again.

Until then, it’s OK with me if you want to adopt a little boy so you won't be so lonely.  He can have my room and all my toys to play with. If you decide to get a daughter instead, you'll have to buy her girl stuff you know.

Don't be sad Mommy. This is a really neat place.  Dad, Grandma and Grandpa met me when I got here and showed me around.  Wow!  The angels are so cool. I love to watch them fly.  Maybe I can too someday.

Know what else?  Jesus doesn't look like any of his pictures. But, when I saw Him, I knew it was Him. He took me to see GOD!  And guess what? I got to sit on God's knee and talk to Him, like I was somebody important.

That's when I ask Him if I could write you this letter.  He made it happen right away.  Only you can see what I’ve written.  

God told me the answer to one of the questions you kept asking Him – “Where was He when you needed him?”  He was right there with me, like He was when His son Jesus was on the cross.  He kept me calm; I wasn’t afraid at all.  You’ll like Him a lot when you meet Him.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. I don't hurt anymore. The cancer is all gone. I'm glad because I couldn't stand that pain anymore and God didn’t want me to see me hurt so much either. That's when He sent his Angel to bring me home.  Sleep well Mommy, I’ll be close by.

Signed Jesus & Me

God of power and mercy, you have made death itself the gateway to eternal life.  Make me strong in love and forgiveness for those you entrust to my care.  Be with me always, so that when I come home to Heaven, all my family with be with me.  Amen.

Beyond Forgiveness

“If you forgive others, your Father in heaven will forgive you too.”  -- Matthew 6:14

The frail woman looks exhausted; grief has taken its toll on her.  Across the courtroom sit the teenage boys who entered her home two years ago.  They kidnapped her only son to settle a stupid argument; to teach him a lesson they claimed.  Jason, the oldest one, has just been tried, convicted and now awaits the Judge’s sentence.

Chilling memories flood back.  She vividly recalls the day Sherriff’s Deputies came to her front door with the dreadful news.  His charred remains were found along the river.  During the trial she learned that they had bound and savagely beaten him.  Lying on a dry woodpile, his last words spoken through swollen lips as they doused him in gasoline and set him aflame were, "Father, forgive them . . ."

Back in the courtroom now, she listens to Jason’s confession.  She can’t process exactly what he says; her emotions are suffocating her.  But he seems sincere enough - now that he’s sober and had time to reflect about the many lives he ruined.  Jason slumps back into his seat – waiting for the “gates of justice” to slam shut on his miserable life.

“Ma’am, is there anything you’d like to say before I pass judgment?” the Judge asks.  “Any wishes that you’d like to convey to this boy who so brutally destroyed your son?"

She pauses thoughtfully.

"I want three things," begins the distraught mother.  First, I want to be taken to the place where my son was burned so that I may plant wild flowers.  I don’t want that place to be remembered as the scene of a heinous crime, but as a place where healing began; where new life begins.”

"My son was all I had,” she says in a soft tone.  “Second, I’d like to adopt Jason.  Twice monthly, I’d like him released from the Detention Center to spend the day with me at the pediatric cancer hospital where I volunteer.  In that way, we can pour out whatever love we still have remaining within us, for the rest of our years."

"And, finally," she says calmly, but confidently, "I want Jason to know that I forgive him . . . because Jesus Christ died to forgive me!”

With that she walked across the room and embraced her new son in a way that sealed her conviction. 

Asked later to explain her actions, the woman replied humbly, “I asked God to pardon my unforgiving heart and remove my bitterness.  Alone, I knew I couldn’t defeat the rage within me.  My prayers were never from a compassionate heart, but from my desire to please my heavenly Father.  We are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.”

Sweet Jesus, even though we rejected, beat, spat upon and finally aided in your murder – You continually pour out your love and blessings on us.  Help me to love my enemies, bless those who hate me, and pray for those who persecute me.  Amen