Drama Need Not Apply

You know, there was a time when I thought being a Christian meant life would run fairly smooth. Oh, sure, I knew there would be bumps in the road, but our faith would make it a breeze to get over them.

Yeah. Right.


Now I know better. Living a life of faith in Christ as often as not means there's a nice, big bull's-eye on your chest. And the one aiming at it as often as he can is Satan. No, the devil doesn't cause every trial. But I do believe he jumps in when bad times come and does all he can to make them worse, piling drama upon drama to drain and exhaust the spirit and discourage the heart.

Take the last week and a half here. It's been a really, truly bad week and a half.

A week ago Tuesday, just as the gals in my Tuesday night coffee group were arriving at my house, my sweet dad, who lives with us, accidently ran over our 14-year-old Siberian Husky, Bo. When I went to help Bo, he chomped down on my right forearm 6 or 7 times, out of pure panic, I know, but there was blood everywhere. And it was all mine. From what I could see when Bo calmed down, his back was broken. We had to call the vet to come and put him down. Don was at work, but when I called him, just this side of hysterical, he came right home. The irony here: Don and I had decided we needed to talk about having Bo put down because he hadn't been doing well for the last month or so. I'm pretty sure his back legs, which kept going out on him, made him fall and not be able to get up from in front of Dad's car.

Dad was, as you can imagine, devastated. I was in pain, physically and emotionally. And though my dh Don was a great support, it was really hard for him, too. Bo was his "boy." I spent a week on pain meds--Bo didn't fracture the bone, but he bruised it royal--and Dad spent that same week struggling with guilt over what happened with Bo and my being injured. We did a lot of talking and praying and weeping, all of which has helped process what happened. But I'll tell you something, I don't get it. I don't understand why this had to happen. Why Bo had to die this way; why it had to be my tender-hearted dad who ran over him. Believe me, I had a number of wrestling matches with God over it.

There were other things too that heaped on us over the last 10 days. It's been once crisis after another, all of which have been exhausting. Finally, night before last, I crawled into bed, on the verge of tears again, and opened my Bible. To Lamentations.

Talk about perfect timing.

I read page after page of what the Israelites went through, of their grief over seemingly being abandoned by God, of the deep struggles they face:

3:16 He has made me chew on gravel. He has rolled me in the dust.
17 Peace has been stripped away, and I have forgotten what prosperity is.

(Man! Can I relate!)

18 I cry out, “My splendor is gone! Everything I had hoped for from the Lord is lost!”
19 The thought of my suffering and homelessness is bitter beyond words.
20 I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss.

(Never, ever. This loss and despair will always haunt me. At least, that's how it felt...). And then I read it. That sweet reminder...

21 Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this:

22 The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease.

(Not even when it seems they have. That's just my human mind and heart struggling to understand. But the truth is, God is right here. Weeping with us. Hurting with us. Seeking to help us heal...)

23 Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in him!”

(Amen! I read those words and my heart leapt. HE is my inheritance. HE is my hope and peace. Why do I so often forget that?)

25 The Lord is good to those who depend on him, to those who search for him.
26 So it is good to wait quietly for salvation from the Lord.

(Ah. Wait quietly. Not in anger. Not steeped in frustration and resentment for what you're suffering. Because, when it comes down to it, as terrible as my trials have been lately, they pale in comparison to what He endured for me. And none of them are greater than His ability to help and heal.)

27 And it is good for people to submit at an early age to the yoke of his discipline:

(I read that over a couple of times, because at first I thought it was saying the trials are His discipline. But I don't think that's the case. I think the yoke of His discipline is about our response in the trials. Our trust. Our resting in Him...)

28 Let them sit alone in silence beneath the Lord’s demands.
29 Let them lie face down in the dust, for there may be hope at last.
30 Let them turn the other cheek to those who strike them and accept the insults of their enemies.
31 For no one is abandoned by the Lord forever.

Amen and amen. He's here, with us, even in the deepest, darkest moment. In those moments when I held Bo as the vet shaved his leg, when Bo leaned his forehead against my chest as the needle went in, when my dear, beloved companion's breathing slowed...and stopped...

In every moment of pain and sorrow, every loss and frustration, every turbulent drama...God is there. Loving. Guiding. Ever vigilant. Ever faithful.

Ever my hope and peace.

So while Don and I have asked God to block the drama from our lives for awhile, to let us catch a breath before the next crisis, whatever happens, we know we don't face it alone. And we know God will use it to refine us, and to remind us that He is with us--just as He's with each of you.

No matter what.

P.S. God is so gracious for having led us to bring a puppy home in November 2007. Dasha, our now 4 month old Siberian, reminds us so much of Bo both in appearance and personality. It's like having a little of Bo still with us. And that's a true blessing. So I wanted to share our joy as well as our sorrow. Here she is.

Dasha, being cute ...................... Dasha being patient

Christian Vampires?

Now, lest you think I've gone (pardon the pun) batty, let me explain the subject of this post. I've been following a discussion among some published novelists regarding whether or not a vampire novel could work in the Christian market. I'm especially interested in this discussion because I've been intrigued with the whole vampire myth for a long time. Not, mind you, that I'm into horror. Quite the opposite. Can't stand it. But for all that I avoid horror like the plague it is, I've always been drawn to vampire stories. I wondered for a lot of years why that was. Then, one day, something occurred to me.

What, in the vampire myth, is the source of eternal life and endless power?

Blood.

Especially innocent blood.

How's that for taking the crux of our Christian faith and warping it? And that, at least for me, explains why the vampire thing holds such appeal. Why it's so seductive. Because there's a hint of truth in it (eternal life comes from the blood), but it takes that truth and twists it so that it's about personal power rather than the power of Christ on the cross. It's about stealing blood to serve self, rather than laying down your life for others. It's the deceiver in the garden whispering in Eve's ear: "Didn't God say?...But you shall not surely die..." The hint of truth draws us in just enough for the lie to deceive and imprison.

All of which makes me even more certain it's time for a vampire novel from a Christian perspective. What better way to break down the deception? Let's take the enemy's story and use it to tell the truth. And, actually, we're doing just that in my day job at B&H Publishing Group. We've acquired a supernatural thriller, a vampire novel of sorts, from award-winning novelist John Olson. It's titled Shade, and it will hit the stores later this year. And, imho, it's gonna ROCK! John is a marvelous writer and this story is simply awesome. As you can imagine, I'm delighted.

Not just because we have a wonderful novel in our line, but because we're doing what I believe we all need to be doing. Taking the power of story back from the enemy. Admit it. He's inspired some pretty amazing stories, dark and depressing tales that show the draw and impact of evil. Stories that leave readers or watchers chilled and frightened. Hopeless. Haunted. Well, he's had story long enough. It's time for us to take the reins and show the world what powerful, TRUTHFUL stories are about. To stop being afraid of what people will think and just write the stories God gives us. When we do that, when we take hold of this wonderful tool God's given us and use it with all our heart, soul, and mind, then oh! What stories will pour forth.

Don't know about you, but I can't wait!

Karen

The Love List

Wow. Psalm 119 has been hitting me left and right. This morning I was skewered by this verse:

"Look down upon my sorrows and rescue me, for I have not forgotten Your laws." (119:153)

I had a not so great morning today, thanks to friction between me and my dh...my dh and I...oh, you know what I mean! Thing is, I never doubt we love each other, and there are times we have a lot of fun (as the picture will attest). But we sure seem to spend a lot of time irritated at one another. I hate that. Hate the way it makes me feel, the way I let it make me act. So I go, muttering to myself, from our little exchange (which, let's be honest, was mostly my fault) and sit down in my comfy chair with my perfect, soft lighting and read the line above. Now, you might think I was all encouraged: Oh, thank You, Lord! You'll rescue me.

Not so much. Because what struck my spirit wasn't that God was going to pluck me from my sorrows, but that next bit. The line that's kind of a quiet little offbeat: "For I have not forgotten Your laws."

Ah. Yes. God's laws.


When things get dark and difficult, which is how it so often feels even if they haven't (what can I say? David and I share a like mind: we whine!), if I just remember God's laws, I can endure. More than that, I can find rescue.

Rescue. Being a word person I hopped on over to Webster to check that out. Rescue means set free from evil or harm. Delivered. Liberated. Legally, it means to be removed forcibly from someone's custody.

I need to be rescued. From me. From my tendency to forget God's laws and fall into a willfully critical spirit. From the custody of the flesh.

So what are God's laws? Hey, I'm no theologian, but I think Luke 10:26-28 is pretty clear, specifically where it says: "'Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your strength, and all your mind.’ And, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.'"

Do that, Christ tells us, and you will live.

Okay, my still somewhat irritated mind says, so how does one do that? (Mind you, I don't ask because I don't know, but because I need to be reminded. Again.) So over to 1 Corinthians 13, and I wrote out Karen's version of the Love list:

• Be patient
• Be kind
• Don't be jealous or boastful, proud or rude
• Don't demand your own way. (Ouch!)
• Don't be irritable. (Double ouch!!)
• Don't keep a record of wrongs (Okay, fine...I've blown this big time lately...)
• Rejoice in the truth's victories, not in in justice.
• Never give up! (So much for thinking weariness or day after day of dealing with the same issues excuses my wrong responses...)
• Never lose faith! (I didn't lose it. Not really. Just kind of got my focus off of it for awhile...Dope.)
  
• Always be full of hope (Always. Not when everything's going well, but always.)
  
• Always endure

Okaaaayyyy.....talk about your tall orders. And it's not like this is an option. Loving God's way isn't an option. So as I read the list over, I had to admit there was just one question.

Will I choose to obey?

If I do, RESCUE! Not because I've earned it, but because living God's way has consequences: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. And not living God's way? Not loving His way?

Oh, yeah. Consequences galore. I should know, I've been experiencing a number of them lately. Frustration. Irritability. Self-f0cus. Self-pity. Self-righteousness. Self, self, selfselfselfself.

Bleah. These consequences I can do without.

So what now? I choose. For this day, in this moment, I choose to obey. And to help myself to that, because I know my steel sponge of a mind and my oh-so-stubborn self, I've printed out the love list above and stuck it to my computer. And a kitchen cupboard. And my bathroom mirror. Even in my car. (Make that especially in my car!) To remind my heart, mind, and soul that there's a better way to live and love.

All I have to do is choose.

Choices

I'm trying again, as I've done year after year, to start my days reading Scripture and praying. Don't know how well I'll do this time, but I have to say it's good to be back in the Word. I wish I could be one of those dedicated, disciplined people who reads and studies every day, or most days. I'd even settle for a day every once in awhile! But I seem to let everything else push aside time reading and studying God's Word. Odd, isn't it, how we set aside what matters most to deal with things that, in the long run, won't matter at all.

Anyway, as I was reading yesterday morning, I came across a verse that I'm sure I've read many times before. This time, though, it stopped me. Psalm 119: 115:

"Get out of my life, you evil-minded people,
for I intend to obey the commands of my God."

Now there's some serious conviction. And a reminder of me vital it is to choose our companions wisely. It's hard enough to live a life of faith in this crazy, confused world of ours. To stand for what's true and good. To be light and salt and all that following Christ calls us to. Doing so in the company of those whose values and beliefs are contrary to God's laws? Makes it near impossible.

And that got me to thinking about my friends. Man! I've been lucky. No, make that blessed. The friends and counselors in my life have been amazing. As a child, I had an entire church family to stand with me, to guide and encourage. In those crucial years when I could have stepped off God's path, the love these people showered on me held me fast. When Don and I lived in Illinois and were mired in marital struggles--when the world told us to seek happiness over obedience--our godly friends spoke truth to us. Their counsel kept us stumbling along the path of righteousness when it would have been far easier to stray into what we wanted rather than what God commanded. I don't know how our marriage would have survived without these friends who said the hard things we needed to hear. It was so hard to leave these friends when Don and I moved back to Oregon. Probably the hardest part of the move. I was sure I'd never find friends like that again...

But God knew my heart, and in His love He led me to a crazy, funny, wise, God-centered group of women. Women who've each faced struggles and come out with the sure knowledge that God is who He says He is. Women who can play as well as pray. Women who've become a part of my heart. Women to whom I'll never have to say, "Get out of my life." Because they, too, intend to obey.

God made us for relationship. He created us to be a part of each other, to walk this path together. Walking it alone just makes it harder. But it's up to us to choose wisely. To open our hearts to the people God brings into our lives. To seek out those who stand for Him. To take the time and energy to build relationships that will endure.

May God will lead you to friends who will walk beside you, stand with you, and encourage you as you "intend to obey the commands of [your] God." With friends like that beside us, evildoers haven't got a prayer.

Peace to you today.

Karen

The Treasure of Traditions

A number of years ago I cowrote a book on family traditions. It was one of my favorite books that I've written because it celebrated the impact of traditions on families, and because it gave me the opportunity to honor our family tradition maker: my mom, Paula Sapp.

Though that book has been out of print for a number of years, I still get emails and calls about it. One such call just recently got me to thinking: Maybe it's time for another traditions book. The more I thought about it, the more excited I got. Because I love traditions. My family has a lot of them, many of which my mom carried on from her childhood. And not just at Christmas time. New Year's, St. Patty's, Valentines, birthdays...they all held such wonder for us as kids because Mom made the special. She decorated the whole house for these special times, and the meal on each holiday was grand. St. Pat's, for example, everything was green. The table cloth, the plates, even the food itself. And at our places were little gifts, wrapped in green. Valentine's, it was all in red. I'd wake up on these holidays full of anticipation and excitement, because Mom had such a gift for making them fun and wonderfully memorable.

That's one of the reasons I love traditions so much. They keep people alive in our hearts and minds. Each year since Mom died, as I've carried on the traditions she set in our family, I can feel her there beside me. I can close my eyes and see her smile as she set the table or fixed a special meal. I can hear her pleased laughter as we came to the table and exclaimed over it all. Following these traditions brings memories of her flooding over me.

Another reason I love traditions is that they bring families close together. In addition to my family traditions, Don and I have developed traditions all our own. They remind us where we've been and how far we've come together. And they let us step out of the everyday for a moment to savor being together.

The cool thing about traditions is that you can be miles apart, but knowing you're sharing a tradition on a certain day makes you feel close, connected. And when you're all together, traditions can deepen your enjoyment of each other. Whether simple and small, or elaborate and extensive, traditions are treasures we pass on from generation to generation. And then there are the stories we all have that stem from our efforts to follow or make traditions! I swear, traditions are the perfect breeding ground for adventure.

Here are a few of my favorite family traditions/adventures:

Birthdays
Every birthday we got to choose where we wanted to go for dinner, or what we wanted Mom to fix. My all-time favorite place to be was the Oregon coast, so every year I'd ask to have a picnic at Harris Beach, over on the coast. We'd make the several hour drive playing games like States and I Spy, then head for our favorite table when we reached Harris Beach. The table we liked best overlooked the beach, and was surrounded by shrubs teeming with squirrels. We'd set up the meal, then have a blast coaxing the squirrels from the shrubs with tidbits of food. The seagulls would hover overhead, and we'd toss food into the air and watch them catch it on the fly! After the meal it was down to the beach to wade in the water as we searched for rocks and shells. It was a wonderful way to celebrate together.

Anniversary
For many years, my dad baked a cake from scratch for his and mom's anniversary. It was a "surprise," but we all knew it was coming. I can still see him standing at the counter, ingredients around him, mixing away. And I can still see Mom's delight each time she received her "surprise." When I was 16 I took on the mantle backing a cake from scratch for them. Unfortunately, I hadn't made frosting from scratch before, so when the recipe asked for "confectioner's sugar", well, I didn't have a clue. I couldn't ask mom because the cake was a surprise, right? So I tried every sugar I could: white, brown, honey, molasses...it was a disaster! By the time I thought to call one of the church ladies, who told me what I wanted was powdered sugar, I had two huge containers of flopped frosting hidden under the kitchen sink. Why I didn't throw the frostings away, I'll never know. I'm not sure what Mom and Dad enjoyed most--the final cake with its perfect frosting, or hearing about my escapades--and seeing the evidence for themselves!

So how about you? Do you have a tradition or memory you'd like to share? I look forward to reading your stories too!

Karen