Thursday, July 19, 2018

Say Something

I watched as she swiped at the escaping tears.  With a pained expression, he rubbed his forehead a second time.  They sat looking straight ahead.  Neither of them able nor willing to see the other.

This isn't the beginning of some silly novel.  It's the real life action I observed early this morning while waiting at a traffic light. Always people watching, I happened to be in the perfect spot to catch the interaction taking place between a dad and his teen-aged daughter.

"Did you know these people?" you may be asking.  No, I didn't.

But after so many years of studying people and body language and relationships, a few suppositions were obvious.  The girl was too young to be his wife.  It was too early for a joy ride; he must have been taking her to a summer job. 

Remember, we also have a lot of experience riding in cars with teen-age daughters.  Even if those guesses were wrong, the tension was visible to anyone taking time to see.

When I see someone in traffic who appears to be in distress, I try to offer a short prayer for them.  Something like one of these. . .
  • "Father, let your peace come into that vehicle."  
  • "Dear Lord, give them grace to be forgiving."  
  • "Heavenly Father, may they sense your love right now."
It doesn't matter if I know them or not.  They're known by our Father and there may not be anyone else to lift them in prayer just at the moment they need it.   I look at it through the lens of Solomon's admonition in Ecclesiastes, "Whatever your hand finds to do, do with all your might."  I am the one who noticed them; I should pray.

For the two minutes that I was part of the struggle between this dad and daughter, I did pray.  But I also wanted to shout to the dad, "Say Something!"

Most likely he was thinking he didn't know what to say.  That's normal.  We seldom ever have the perfect words during a moment of disagreement.  Perfect words don't matter.  Shattering the barrier of silence does matter.

Professional counselors may have another perspective and that's fine.  I'm just a mom who has ridden in the Cone of Silence with a frustrated teen-ager many times.  And I can tell you this, silence hardens hearts. That's true between spouses and friends, as well.

Especially if you're dealing with a daughter, remember there is never a waking moment that a woman doesn't have words happening in her head.  If you leave that young woman to silently argue through the situation in her own thoughts, it only grows more negative with each passing moment.

Interrupt that train of destructive thought with some word of quiet reassurance:

  • "I do love you."
  • "I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings."  
  • "I hope you believe I want what's best for you."  
  • "You don't feel like talking now but can we pray together before you leave?"
Do something to break that barrier.  Even if you have to take a step back when they unleash their frustration, it's important to keep communicating.  Silence can become an escape and eventually even a habit.

When our girls were little, we taught them a secret communication.  The first person would give the second three quick squeezes.  That meant, "I. Love. You."  The second person then responded with four little squeezes meaning, "I. Love. You. Too."  

No words were used but we had communicated with one another.  Their faces would light up.  And sometimes they were so excited participating in the secret code they would then announce it.  "Mom, I just told Daddy, I. Love. You.  He squeezed my hand and said, I. Love. You. Too!"  

Can you hear the giggles of joy that followed?

One afternoon, I had to discipline one of our daughters.  It had been a severe breaking of the rules and the punishment was equal to the offense.  When I went back into her bedroom later to talk over the situation, she refused to talk with me.  

After waiting a few minutes I said, "Okay, that's your choice.  You don't have to talk right now.  Just remember, we have to deal with this before you go to sleep tonight."  I reassured her of my love, stepped out and quietly closed her door.

The girls all knew our routine after any discipline.  We gave them time to think over their actions.  We went back to discuss the offense.  We made sure they understood the punishment, then prayed together.  

But bedtime was coming quickly and still no closure.  The silent daughter had already climbed into her bed when we gathered to read their Bible story and say nighttime prayers.  We couldn't let her go to sleep with the struggle unresolved but I was all too familiar with the resolute look on her face.

What was I to do?  I offered a quiet prayer while Dad read the story. 

That's when it hit me.  While someone else was praying, I reached over to the silent daughter and ever so gently squeezed her foot three times.  "I. Love. You."  

With only a slight hesitation, she gave my hand four distinct pats.  "I. Love. You. Too."  The silence was broken.

It was the next morning before we were able to have our follow-up discussion.  Our daughter still wasn't happy but her frustration level had dropped and we were able to talk calmly.

What's my message today?

Simply this: if you find yourself in a frustrating moment, don't go silent.  Say Something.  Pray for wisdom and speak up.  Don't use silence as a shield or as an excuse or as a wall.  That relationship is far to precious.

They can not read your mind, Dear Friend.  If you love them, say it.  If you're sorry, ask forgiveness.  If you regret the misunderstanding, express yourself better.

Paul gave a helpful warning to us in Ephesians 4.  "Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry."  In other words, deal with the situation.  Don't go to bed silent and angry.  Say Something!

That's my word of encouragement for today and I'm sticking to it!  Blessings!



How about you?  Any experience in this area of struggle?  Any tips to share with our other readers?  We'd love to read your thoughts in the comment box below.














Monday, July 16, 2018

Still No Baby

Many of you have been checking in to see if Meagan and Nathan's third bundle of joy has arrived.  The title says it all, "Still No Baby!"  Without a doubt this is the most unusual of the eight pregnancies we've lived through with our girls.

Meagan's first two pregnancies were good experiences with small complications here and there.  Both babies came early; Madi required a bit of bedrest before arrival time. 

Noah was born around 9PM on a Thursday.  Meagan taught school all day; went for her check-up; moved to the hospital and birthed a little boy......all in time for us to be home before midnight.  It was like he processed it all then asked, "Is now an okay time to make my appearance?"  Such a thoughtful kid!

Don't get me wrong.  When she was in the hospital at 29 weeks with this little guy, we were all extremely concerned.  Every extra week this baby stays in place is a good week.  But Meagan has had so much pain and so many unexplainable problems since then, it's definitely been perplexing.

Still, she and Nathan keep finding reasons to smile and express gratitude. It's all about the Attitude! Thank you for your prayers.

In other news, we are honored to be hosting a lovely young lady from China for three weeks.  Her Chinese name is Wan Gind but she told us to call her "Barbara."  She also seems to like Audrey Hepburn but I think "Barbara" was easier for everyone to pronounce.

She is here as a course leader with a wonderful program called Education First.  It's an international group providing cultural learning opportunities for children and adults.  My friend, Janet, became a liaison for EF and asked if Frank and I would serve this month as a host home.  What better way to touch the nation of China than by offering a safe, loving environment for one of their visiting citizens?

Barbara is responsible for 17 students who call her at all hours to tell of everything from home-sickness, to great adventures, to injuries and such.  She speaks really good English (thank Heavens.)  I hear her switching back and forth easily between the languages as she talks with students and American host families.  I'm impressed!

We're all praying these students (ranging in age from 8 to 12) will have a positive experience while here in the United States.  So much going on.  So many moving parts.  And our July heat index has been topping out daily in the three digit range.

It's been nice for Frank to be able to share with Barbara his positive memories from visiting her country.  She was surprised when he said,  "I visited China many years ago and things have surely changed so much.  But the people were genuinely helpful and kind to me.  I loved being there."  

I don't mind saying I was rather nervous getting ready for her to arrive.  I mean, she's a stranger from half way around the world.  A culture totally different from anything I know.  Customs and habits completely different from my own.  Sharing our home for three weeks.  Apparently, she was a bit anxious as well.

We went to the grocery store her first full day so I could prepare food she could eat and enjoy.  We talked casually about many things.  After an hour or so, she looked directly at me and said, "I'm so glad you are happy," she hesitated, searching for the right words then put her hand on her heart.  "I wondered how you would be.  Thank you."

Two browned-eyed girls.  One older the other younger.  One American the other Chinese.  Both struggling with exactly the same questions and concerns.  More unites us than separates us in this world, Friends!

I'll close with a quick story about Noah, the 4 year old.  Last week, I met Meagan at the obstetrician's office to pick up Madi and Noah while Meg was being checked out.  Our wires had crossed about the time to meet and I was rather frazzled when I finally starting pulling out of the parking area.

Too sharp a turn and Meagan's unsecured tumbler fell over, lodging behind my back while dumping it's iced contents all over my bottom.  I jumped forward on the seat and pulled to the side of the road as quickly as possible all the while yelling, "Oh, No!  Oh, No!"  

As I opened the van door and hopped out, I remembered the babies were riding with me and started adding in, "It's okay!  Oh, no!  Oh, no!  It's okay!"  

It took a minute to get the tumbler back into a cupholder.  Fortunately, Meagan already had a towel on the passenger side seat.  I grabbed it and mopped up as much of the formerly free-flowing liquid as possible.  This included mopping Noni's backside as well as the driver's side seat all the while trying to reassure my little charges, "It's okay!  Oh, no!  Good heavens!  It's okay, really!  Everything is okay!"

Traffic continued to pass us.  Each driver craning their necks and trying to see what was going on with the lady on the side of the road.  That's when I heard Noah's little voice wafting from the back, "It's not the worst that's happened." 

I threw my head back and laughed out loud, "You're exactly right, sweet boy!  It's not the worst that's happened!"

So there you have it, dear reader.  Still no baby. A cultural exchange happening in my home.  Extreme heat of summer.  A baptized bottom.  But hey, it's not the worst that's happened.




Friday, July 6, 2018

Announcement!

My trip to Michigan this past week was simply amazing!

I was privileged to once again attend Speak Up, the speaker's/writer's conference sponsored by my friend, Carol Kent.  Several hundred women (and a few brave men) from 35 different states and three Canadian provinces came together for one fantastic time of learning, worshipping the Father and connecting.

My roommate, Dyann, was from California.  We met via email before hand and became quick friends as we shared our writing challenges and dreams. Simply Fantastic!

A publishing company held an advance contest then chose 21 articles to be included in an anthology entitled: Faith and Freedom.  The article I submitted was one of those chosen!  That was exciting and will now move me into the "Published" category.  Woo Hoo!  Thanks for being excited with me.

The best news is this - I came away with a contract for my new book!!

No.  No, I did not.

I did not come away with a book contract.  I came away encouraged about my book.  I came away with ideas for improvement.  I came away with renewed passion.  But the announcement of a contract will have to wait for another time.

Once I got home, life was rolling at full tilt.  It was four days before I could look at the comments sent to me by one of the agents I met with.  She had carefully reviewed my proposal and a sample chapter I'd emailed her before the conference.  Our actual meeting time was brief so her overview had to be succinct.

She encouraged me to keep working at it and highlighted a couple of points.  Needless to say, I was eager to get back home and read through her longer explanations.

But reading through her comments yesterday afternoon had the same effect on my enthusiasm as helium that's slowly leaking from a shiny balloon:

"I don't see anything unique here."  

"Same comment as above."

"This story is too long; where is your focus?"

"What do you want the reader to see in this section?"

"I've read three proposals this week on this same topic.  What's unique about your slant?"

"Same comment as above."

"Is there some other topic you're passionate about?  This is too broad; too common."

(Can you hear the squeaky, high-pitched sound of air leaving a balloon slowly?  Yep, that's what my heart sounded like as I read.)

I met Frank at home and gave him the cliff note version.  Then I cried.  Fortunately, we had company coming for dinner so I couldn't indulge in a full-blown pity party.  There was a meal to finish preparing and a table to set.

This morning, Frank just pulled me close and let me cry again for a little while.  He's a Good, GOOD man!

We talked some more about the review.  Then finally, I was able to paint a word picture to help him understand how I felt.

"Honey, this editor has taken my manuscript, which feels like a baby to me and she has looked it over very carefully.  These comments sound to me like she has said, 'Lady, your baby is ugly!  You can't fix ugly.  Maybe you should just try to have another one.' "  

He looked at me with such a startled expression that it struck me funny.  I reacted by doing the laugh/cry thing we women are so famous for.  I'll always believe laughter truly is the best medicine.

We prayed together and I ran on to do a hospital visit while he started cleaning our yard.  It's been an introspective kind of day for me.  When someone declares your baby is ugly, you have to take a step back and regroup.

Fortunately, I have company that stops by this blog site on a regular basis.  (That's YOU!)  A new post was overdue.  Still no time for a pity party.  Thanks, dear readers, for being the catalyst I needed to make me get busy and write again; right now.  Today!

Home-spun wisdom has always quoted the old cowboy.  "Horse bucked you off?  Grab those reins and get back on right now.  Best cure is to ride again!"

Eventually, I'll be able to report to you:  "I came away with a contract for my new book!"  That isn't for today; but eventually.

Until then, I'll just keep loving on this "ugly baby" until it grows out of the ugly stage and finds it's place in the printed world.  Who knows, there may even be a unique slant in that concept.

If you've been hit with some less than encouraging news this week, take a step back.  Allow yourself time to regroup.  Things are never quite as impossible (or ugly) as they first appear.

Choose to sing along with me the theme song from Lil' Orphan Annie, "The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow!"

Besides, we know the One who holds all our tomorrows in His loving hands.  Set backs are really more like set ups for a better outcome.

THAT truth is definitely worth an announcement!








Monday, June 25, 2018

Talking About Truth


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Most of you will remember we have seven grandchildren and one more on the way this summer.  Five of these children have incredible verbal skills already.  What they come up with keeps us in stitches. 

Most recently, it was the Smith family providing entertainment.

Madi and Noah were having a small altercation as siblings often do.  Dad (Nathan) stepped in to dispense discipline.  Based on what he had seen, he told Noah to apologize for hitting his sister.
        Noah:  "Sorry,  Madi for hitting you."
        Madi:  "I forgive you budher.  I sawy for pulling you hair.  I tink you hair iz bootiful!"

(Brings to mind a great line from the old TV show, Perry Mason.  "Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?")

Ms. Madi also just celebrated her third birthday.  A lady from our church bent down yesterday and said to her, "Happy Birthday, Madi.  I hope you had a nice birthday."  Madi sighed, propped her hand on her hip and responded, "Tank you.  It was ovuhr in four minutes!"  Can't make this up!

Abby (Joy and John's oldest daughter) will turn six later this week.  She read a Bible story for bedtime last night that is written on a second grade level and she just graduated from K-5.  Spencer (7) is reading even farther ahead and can answer just about any question I have about my phone.

Please pardon the unbridled Noni enthusiasm.  Every grandmother reading this understands completely.

But smiling about the command these little people have over language reminded me of a story from my upcoming book.  In a chapter on Words, I write about the importance of choosing our words wisely.  Solomon said, "The power of life and death are in the tongue." (Proverbs 18:21) 

Such an incredible truth!

I've included an excerpt that tells of a friend who was unaware of how her words were impacting others.


I had a dear friend once who struggled in this area.  Her words were almost always negative.  Ali could paint incredibly vivid pictures of failure for anyone who dared to attempt something new.  She was a realist who pointed out shortcomings of all those around her.  If someone dropped the ball or made a mistake, Ali made certain the proper people were notified.

Conversations with Ali sapped me of energy.  I dreaded getting together with her for coffee or a meal. I sometimes avoided answering her phone calls.  A quote by C.S. Lewis perfectly describes the feelings I had but in a humorous way.  “It’s so much easier to pray for a bore than to go and see them.”

 When I finally worked up courage to share my concerns with my friend, she was shocked.  “Well I don’t know what you’re talking about.  I’m the most positive person I know.”  It was my turn to be shocked. 

Ali literally had no idea the impact her words were having on others.  Fortunately, our talk ripped off a scab she had allowed to form over an old wound.  Ali began engaging in honest conversations with family and other friends.  One by one she discovered they felt the same way I did.

At a lunch meeting we had weeks later, Ali thanked me for being brave enough to share my concerns with her.  The solution for her problem wasn’t easy but it was so obviously simple.  My friend had to begin choosing life! 

Ali had to recognize the power of her words.  She had to measure their impact and change the way she talked.  She had to stop bringing death to each conversation and bring life instead.

The transformation took time but Ali eventually became an avid contributor to others.  People began seeking her out for counsel and encouragement.  Her choice to invest in them became a rich harvest of joy and fulfillment in her own life.

Let's all remember the admonishment given by the wisest man who ever lived.  "The power of life and death are in the tongue!" 






Saturday, June 9, 2018

Mrs. Woodham

With schools closing for summer, I thought this excerpt from my latest project would be timely.  Thank you to all those teachers taking a much deserved break for the next few weeks!




We all have stories of how the words or comments of a teacher, a close relative or a friend have impacted us during our early years.  That impact often follows us through our lifetime.

My second grade teacher, Mrs. Woodham, was a kind, tenderhearted lady.  I can still see her slightly frazzled hairstyle and that broad, welcoming smile that she seemed to flash so often.  

She was no push over!  We all understood that when Mrs. Woodham said, “Quiet!” she meant now.  But we also felt her joy and sensed her love for us as students.  She was glad to be a professional teacher.

If someone struggled, she knelt beside their desk and worked more closely with them a while.  I remember feeling her soft touch on my head or shoulder as a point of encouragement.  You see, I was one of those students who struggled.  Math was my nemesis.  But I came out of second grade feeling that I could conquer the struggle. 

In fact, it was Mrs. Woodham who first put the dream in my heart for becoming a teacher.  Her words of encouragement made me believe I could not only learn to add and subtract, I could one day teach others to do the same. 

Many times she would have me sit at her desk with a notepad if she stepped out for some reason.  As a class, we would each be doing our seat work.  It was my job to write down the name of any student who talked or got out of line in any way.

I’ll never forget the day I was the one who stepped out of line.  

Mrs. Woodham had put me at her desk with the notepad and whispered to me that she had to go to the office.  “I’ll be right back, Sheri.  Keep an eye on things.”

Apparently, I had become too comfortable in my role as classroom monitor.  A couple of students raised their hands to indicate they needed to use the pencil sharpener.  I nodded giving them permission to move from their desks.   A few began to whisper.  A couple more began giggling about something. 

In my most serious seven year old voice I called out, “Quiet, everyone!”  My imitation of Mrs. Woodham fell short and resulted in a ripple of laughter.  I had to laugh myself, it sounded so funny. 

I must have been a ham early in life because in a flash I found myself standing beside the desk of a friend doing my best to imitate Mrs. Woodham.  “The next student to speak is going to be disciplined, do you hear me?!”  I mimicked her scowl and wagged my tiny finger at the class in warning.  

We all burst out in loud laughter.

But the laughing halted immediately when we heard the original, “Quiet!” resounding from the back of the room.  Mrs. Woodham had walked in on my little show and she was not happy.  I don’t remember my exact punishment but writing about that moment still causes me to cringe a bit.

How did I have such a disappointing experience with her and still come out of that year believing Mrs. Woodham loved me?   It’s because she spoke words of affirmation daily.  Not just to me but to everyone in our class. 

“You CAN do this, Jeffery.  Don’t let it beat you.”

“I see how hard you’re trying, Marcia.  That’s important.”

“Judy, I’m proud of your effort on that homework.  Good job!”

I don’t know about any of those other second graders but her words were life to one little girl with brunette hair and slightly crooked teeth.  She enriched my life and used her words to paint a picture of possibility for me.  

I’ll forever be grateful.



What was the name of your favorite teacher?  What grade were you in when you encountered them?

Thursday, May 31, 2018

Season of Love

Summer has begun and tomorrow is June 1st.  June - traditionally the most popular month for weddings.  (Although, wedding coordinators will tell you October comes in at a close second, now.)

Last Sunday, I got home just in time to watch a wedding that was being live-streamed.  A precious young lady we met while working in El Salvador, was marrying another minister from a different country.  Her father (who pastors in our area) conducted the ceremony with great joy.

You see, the bride had just come through major surgery due to cancer. (She is expected to make a full recovery with time.)  Her wedding day will forever be remembered as a day of triumph!

I must tell you, her beauty filled the screen as I watched.  And I can only imagine the euphoria felt by those gathered in the huge auditorium as witnesses.  Tears and laughter blended in the wedding celebration of those two dedicated Christ followers.

Their vows were powerful; describing how they had prayed for one another before they even met.  How they had intentionally chosen to follow God, trusting He would bring them together at some point on their life journey.

T.R.U.S.T.  Five simple letters strung together to describe something so complex.

The entire celebration of that dear couple showed the importance of trust again and again.

  • They each trusted God with the direction of their personal lives.  
  • That trust led them to find one another while serving in a country different than their own. 
  • They came to trust one another in that atmosphere of ministry.  
  • They declared their trust in spite of the bride's illness.  
  • They pledged their lives to one another, trusting for a future of hope and strength.

Frank and I counsel and marry couples all the time.  We talk with them about the impossibility of maintaining joy without trust.  And one of the most powerful books I've ever read on marriage presents trust in the most simplistic way.

The title is: Love and Respect.

The basic premise is this:  Women desire to be loved.  They want to know they matter to the man they entrust with their devotion.  Men desire to be respected.  It's built into their DNA.  They must know they are honored in the heart of their bride.

Paul even wrote about this in his letter to a church in Ephesus.  "Husbands, go all out in your love for your wives, exactly as Christ did for the church - a love marked by giving, not getting.  Wives, understand and support your husbands in ways that show your support for Christ."

In other words, we should each give what the other needs; then trust that our own desires will be met as well.  Simple but far from easy!

If I hold out to my husband the respect he deserves, his heart feels more fulfilled.  If he offers me the love I long to experience, I'll feel safe in that love.  My immediate response is to respect the man making me feel so loved.  Feeling respected causes him to love the woman who honors him so.

See the cycle?

Of course, the reciprocal is true with most things in life.  If I dishonor my husband, he has no desire to offer me love.  In that scenario, we both lose.

After 38 years of marriage, I choose to win.  Building trust by offering respect.  Receiving love that replenishes my very soul.

If you're looking for a good read this summer, I'd encourage you to get a copy of Love and Respect by Eggerichs.  It has changed the way Frank and I interact with one another.  It's taught us valuable lessons about the hearts of those we minister to.  It has given us a platform for building more trust.

And in this beautiful season of love, we could all stand to build a little more trust.  Right?



I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.  Have you already read the book I referenced?  What experience could you share as an encouragement to others?

Friday, May 25, 2018

Pay Back

Some days this blog weaves stories of family.  Some days it's all about humor or current events.  Today I want to share a truth that has saved me a lot of frustration.  Hopefully, it will be valuable to you as well.

Let me start by saying, Parker Franklin is thriving under the watchful care of his doting parents.  Don't misunderstand, they aren't spoiling him.  I've actually heard him express displeasure several times since his birth two weeks ago.  And Kristin is sleeping at least three hours each night.

Baby Boy Smith is set to make his appearance at some point later this summer.  All Meagan's babies have followed the example of their mother.  She started trying to be born about three months before her due date.  Slow and steady is what we're praying once again over this little miracle.

But I promised a story about valuable truth and here it is:

Many years ago, I had a knock on my front door at an unusual time.  The visitor I welcomed inside didn't normally drop by unannounced, so my radar went up quickly.  Leaders know one thing is certain, you're never really certain what a day will bring.

The lady brushed off my offer of iced sweet tea (southern nectar) instead opting to drop right down on my couch.  She had come for a purpose.

She began by apologizing for a recent incident that really had hurt several people.  She was totally repentant for her part and even shed a few tears.  I listened closely encouraging her expressions.  But it felt like there was more to the visit.  And there was.

After clearing the air, my visitor swiped at her tears with the tissue I'd offered and deftly turned the conversation.  "Of course, it never would have happened if you hadn't......"  

In a split second, she went from repentant to accusing.  I'm sure my eyes went wide with surprise.  This lady was masterful.

Thank heaven I'd been taught long ago to listen until upset individuals can run out of steam.  If you're already in a private setting, interrupting them midstream seldom accomplishes anything.  So I sat nodding; trying to maintain my composure.

Toward the end of her tirade she referenced an event that took place long before I even lived in her city.  Another leader had indeed taken advantage at that time and this lady was still upset.

I tried gently to remind her that I hadn't even been around when that offense took place.  Her response made perfect sense to her, "I know that!  But you're a leader just like they were and you possibly could do what they did."

My head was spinning.

As the conversation wound down, I reached for my favorite phrase when facing a situation that's far above my pay grade, "I'll talk to Pastor Frank about this and we'll get back to you as soon as possible.  For now, let's pray!"

I did talk with Frank after dinner.  We were both stumped as to how we could best respond.  Frank is a pastor who relies heavily on his Heavenly connection.  "Let's just pray about this a few days.  Then we'll get back with her."

Two days later, during my devotion time, the answer came.  My dear friend and mentor, King David had experienced a similar situation.  He wrote about it in Psalm 69.  "Those who hate me without reason outnumber the hairs of my head."  (Well, that was an exaggeration for my circumstance but it certainly helped me know he understood how I was feeling.)

Reading the next sentence was a definite "Aha!" moment for me.  "I am forced to restore what I did not steal."

I literally tapped my devotion Bible and read it out loud several times.  "That's it, Lord!  They want me to pay back what I didn't even steal from them!"

Someone had stolen the trust of this lady and her family.  She had experienced a terrible injustice at the hands of another leader.  No one was disputing that fact.  But the Someone who did it wasn't ME!

Fortunately, I had gotten up extra early that morning.  I had plenty of time to sit and ponder what I sensed the Father whispering to me through this scripture.

It's true, many times leaders are impacted by the poor choices of those who've gone before them.  No one is perfect.  We're all broken; we all need a Savior.  No human being gets it right all the time.  So picking up an offense about what they did, doesn't help at all.

If the Father (who looks on the heart of man) finds enough grace in your tank, He very well may tap you to bring healing where another has wounded.

Now we can yell, "Not Fair!" and He won't require it of us.  But His ultimate goal is to bring healing to all those who ask for it.  If you aren't the conduit of healing, He'll simply look for another venue.

Perhaps you too have found yourself in situations dealing with people still angry about past offenses. They can't get to the person who committed the injustice, so they attack you instead.  Dear reader, hurting people hurt people.  It's just that simple.

Is this a difficult mission?  Absolutely!  Do people recognize your sacrifice?  Seldom!  Is there really a purpose?  Always!

You see, there's a flip side to this seemingly unfair request from our Father.  He keeps excellent records.  When you or I offer ourselves as conduits of healing for others, we also become conduits of blessing!

He promises in Deuteronomy 6:10, we will eat from vineyards we didn't plant.  In other words, when we "pay back what we didn't steal" our Father smiles.  He makes note of our generous spirit and rewards us with blessings we don't really deserve.

Not bad, being rewarded by the King of Heaven, right?!

After much more prayer, my husband went to this lady and her husband with the strength of humility.  As a leader, he apologized to them for the hurt they had experienced at the hands of another and asked their forgiveness.

I'm not sure healing came to them at that point.  They had held to their hurt for many years and sometimes it's hard to let go of what has become familiar to us - even pain.  But that couple did tell others about the experience they had with Pastor Frank.  In fact, they told many people.

Others who heard the story quickly recognized the wisdom of their shepherd.  Their hearts were healed and they were able to trust him totally.  We began to experience blessing from many sources where we hadn't even planted.

If you're asked to do so, don't be afraid to pay back what you didn't steal.  Choose to be generous.  God keeps good records!




Have you had a similar experience?  You story may be an encouragement to someone.  We'd love to hear your comments:







Followers