Confession

  As a volunteer in a global evangelism ministry, I’m always looking for different wording to discuss Christianity with seekers. Language barriers can make communication difficult at times and I try to share with simple phrases and illustrations. While researching today, I ran across a devotional by Pastor Colin Smith on confessing Christ as Lord and Savior and behold, an Edison moment!  Actually, a Holy Spirit moment as He illuminated a one syllable word.  

The Jesus statement in John 14:6 was the  heart of his message: Jesus said to him, “I am the way and the truth and the life.” Many of us have memorized it, but how many of us have personalized this verse? Jesus is my way and my truth and my life.  A small two letter word changes everything.   Yes, it’s profoundly important to agree with and respect the integrity of what Jesus says about his own identity.  The descriptive the is definitive; Jesus clearly states He is the only means to eternal and abundant life.  But to respond with personal confession…well, it’s eternal and life-changing!  

I confess both: Jesus is my only Way, my only Truth and my only Life.  All in, not just considering His claims…my only Lord and Savior! 

 And yours?  

*I’m currently writing a collection of letters to my grandchildren.  I want to leave with them the important things of life and my confession of Jesus is my most important gift to them.  

  

  

It seems like life is one long climb to the summit more often than not. Lots of dilemmas and decisions… Anyone agree; fewer periods of easy coasting?

Mountaineer Jenn Drummond advises a climber to know her limits. 

“The mountain will always be there, so one failed attempt does not mean you have only 1 shot; it just means it’s easier to take yourself out of the game for that round than lose everything.”

I’ve been asking the same question: do I know when to fold ‘em, whether it’s  a temporary pause or a full out burial? What’s the difference between a wise surrender or simply just giving up? I’ve struggled with the folding part all my life, but hey, I don’t think I’m  alone. Look at Tom Brady!  When you invest your all into a goal, a mission , a career, a relationship, it’s hard to close that chapter because you leave a huge part of yourself behind. 

But that’s not really the question at hand: when is it best for you and the whole? Some signposts are clear: for me, a worn meniscus that can still avoid a total knee replacement shouts “wiser to walk away,” but some remain cloudy. 

1 Corinthians 12:25 offers me a very clear answer though: is it hurting the whole?

Hello Joy

2023 Hello Joy 

 It’s been a long while since I’ve considered joy. God desiring, that’s my path for a few months: Biblical Joy. 

At the beginning of Rob’s cancer journey, I was determined to choose joy, but I had to discover what that really meant. Even after 9 1/2 years, I think I’ve only peeled  back a couple of layers.  Now it’s time to dive deeper.   

I begin with a John Piper question: What’s at the  bottom of my joy? Is it really God or is it me?

                            Image: Charles M. Schultz

 This pandemic: the isolation, the masks that cover up your facial expression…and your life. I’ve mostly missed your story. Oh, I’ve enjoyed your happy posts, but I’ve missed your real life stories. 

I wish I could construct a Lucy Booth, not for cheap advice, but to simply listen to your present reality, past hurts, and dreams: broken and still unrealized. A story-keeper booth that only costs time. 

I wonder how the church, the workplace, our neighborhoods would morph if we enlisted story-keepers. When I was a young nurse’s aide, working in a long-term care facility, I’d frequently visit the residents when my shift ended. Oh, the stories of Grumpy Mr. Held’s sorties, life in the Great Depression for many, the Dust Bowl days for mamas trying to keep house. Those tales of courage and sacrifice, hardship and joy matured me, reminding me of my many blessings. I still treasure those storytellers and their accounts; time well spent. Time for them to feel appreciated and be heard. 

Yes, Lucy Van Pelt, move on over; my booth is always open.

 

Dear Grands, 

Oh, this storm called COVID. I am struggling this morning as a young family friend has lost his fight with this ugly monster.  

“If only he’d been vaccinated…” runs through my sad mind. I don’t believe for one moment this was God’s intended will, although I believe not one detail escaped God. All along God knew Dave would join Him, but He gave him free choice to decide about earthly protection. He is the giver of good gifts, but choice as well. 

I’ve learned the hard way that consequences often follow my decisions. 

But I’ve also learned that He covers us with his perfect Grace. 

God rescued our friend by arresting his suffering and welcoming Dave into his Presence yesterday. 

Our Father bids us to offer our imperfect grace to those who make unwise choices. A friend is always ready to pick up the broken. And just as importantly, Jesus asks us to grace ourselves. We can’t waste what He did for us on the Cross: perfect forgiveness!

Oh, Grands, offer and receive grace…always, dear ones. 

Be held, Gigi

 

 

20th Anniversary of 9/11

 

Dearest Grands,

9.11.2021

Today we remember. 

Twenty years ago, four planes tried to destroy our country. They did not! They caused a lot of damage and killed a lot of innocent people, but they could not destroy the American spirit. People were brave and they stood together in resolve and unity. I’ll spare you the details of that horrible morning, not because you can’t handle the tragedy, but because I challenge you to read the stories for yourselves. You must own your nation’s history-all of it: the good and bad…the blessings and the hard. Remember, we don’t forget  lest we visit such again. 

We all had to be brave that day and we had to wait. Granddad was grounded in Portland, Oregon. We didn’t know his location for hours or when we would see him again. Others waited for word of whether or not their loved ones made it out of the fiery buildings. 

Today, I encourage you not to use the excuse, ‘Well, that’s way before I was born’ to not remember 9/11. I was not alive during the surprise military attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, but every December 7th, I reflect on the events and loss of life in Hawaii. My grandfather left his wife and two daughters to serve in the Navy shortly after we officially entered WWII. He sacrificed a lot to defend our nation,  so I remember his and many others’ courage and pursuit of freedom. 

I visited Ground Zero the summer after the Twin Towers collapsed. It was my physical way to grasp the magnitude of the enemy’s destruction; history is seared into my memory. 

            

I captured this photo  of a steel beam from one of the skyscrapers that rescue workers hoisted up weeks after the attack. It helps me never forget the ripple effect of evil, but more importantly, who holds our future. A cross in the rubble…hope in Jesus who hung on a wooden crossbeam to give us Himself, the Hope of Glory. 

My dearest Grands, never forget Christ triumphs all evil. When tragedy strikes, don’t lose sight of his Hope for He wins in the end!

And remember, as He knows every one of the names recorded on this flag, He also knows yours!

Blessings, Gigi 

 Vaccinations are recorded and tomorrow marks the last day of my personal nightmare with SARS-CoV-2. Has it come too late? The personal toll of isolation is great and I’m barely limping to the finish line. Am I ready to navigate ‘normal’ again? Have I retained enough social skills to resume life outside of these gray walls? Will freedom really look any different than lockdown?

My biggest fear whispers: will my loneliness only change shape? I still remain alone in a world that belongs  to couples and families. Re-entry may sting with the continued feeling of being forgotten, but now I’ll have no excuse of COVID-19 to claim. I’m terrified that thick scab may very likely rip open raw.

I truly want to shape re-entry as a fresh beginning, but I’m afraid I have nothing left to fight the giants. Perhaps, that’s the very place God plants me.