What Do I Know to be True?

A few weeks ago, I wanted to take a quick break from writing and decided to turn on the television while cleaning up the kitchen. Seldom do I sit down to watch TV during the day, but sometimes I’ll turn it on to listen to my favorite uplifting programs. As I went to change the channel from the news station that my husband had been watching before leaving for work, I noticed the “Breaking News” headline.

Oh, no, another shooting—this time involving several young children.

I had to sit down.

Numb with sadness over the evil in this world, I struggled to process this latest senseless tragedy. In an attempt to come full circle, I asked aloud the same question I had asked myself following every tragedy since the death of my teenage stepson in 1994:

What do I know to be true?

Asking myself that simple question in relationship to God and His truth, has always gotten me through. Eighteen years earlier, while attending grief counseling with Joe, the Christian counselor who helped me cope after the sudden death of my stepson, Conan, Joe had challenged me to memorize Philippians 4: 6-7. It was then that I developed the habit of asking myself that question about God: What do I know to be true about You in the midst of this tragedy? When tragedies occur (which, sadly, they always have and they always will this side of heaven), what truth can we cling to about the Lord and His promises?

For starters, we know that God is not the author of evil; rather, He is the author of love. Some might argue that it was evil of God to allow His Son to be mistreated and to die a horrible death on the cross, but the truth is, it was out of God’s great love for mankind that He allowed His Son to carry the full weight of our sin so that we might have eternal life in Him. That’s costly, extravagant, mind-blowing love.

I know, too, that God promises to work evil out for good, for those who are His children—those who are the “called” and who know His voice and long to do His will. Even the painful death of a loved one can bring forth goodness. During times of bitterness grudges can drop by the wayside as people come together and unite in their shared grief. Many hardened hearts have cried out to the Lord in their anguish and found Him to be true to His word.

I also know that God gives us free will; we make our own choices. We cannot control the heart of another, we can only choose, with God’s help, to keep our own heart pure. Almost two decades ago I realized it was up to me to choose to begin each day in prayer and in God’s Word. Reading the Bible helps to protect our mind and guard our thoughts. There is power in God’s word.

Finally, I know to be true that God will never leave me or forsake me. Even during heart-wrenching grief, He is my comforter—my ever present help in time of need. He has proven Himself, over and over again. He is trustworthy.

God wants to be your “truth”, too. He longs to comfort you during your painful times and be the mender of your broken heart. But first, you must give Him all the pieces.

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear…” (Psalm 46:1-2).

In His Truth,
Connie

The Peace of God

I couldn’t remember a time in my life when I had been so jumpy and nervous, and with each passing day it worsened. Ever since the tragic death of my seventeen-year-old stepson, a few months earlier, I had been going through the motions and feeling anything but alive.

My husband and I had two children of our own. It felt as if my grieving family was directing all their anger at me, making it even more difficult to cope with my own despair. Thoughts of divorce and even suicide, constantly plagued my mind.

I used to wonder how the death of a child could destroy a marriage. I assumed the thread of common agony would bring a couple closer together, and their shared grief would build a bridge instead of a wall. Instead, the anger over our loss had begun to poison our relationship. When one wanted to talk, the other didn’t. Communicating with anyone, including each other, was very difficult.

One day at work, after hanging up the phone from yet another argument with my husband, I desperately whispered aloud, “Dear Lord, help me.”

Suddenly, I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see my cousin, Jay, who worked nearby. In a comforting voice, Jay asked if I needed help, and then offered the number of a friend—a Christian counselor named Joe.

During my first visit with Joe my tears flowed effortlessly as I poured out my torment to a stranger schooled in listening to hearts. Before long, he nailed it. “How much time are you spending in the Bible?” he asked.

The Bible? I just told him I was having trouble focusing on anything, especially reading.

“God’s Word has tremendous power. And, you don’t need to read much for it to help,” he said, as if he read my mind. Handing me a piece of paper, his eyes met mine. “I want you to look up these two scripture verses and memorize them.” Neither of us blinked.

I had been a strong Christian prior to my stepson’s death, but between the weight of the grief and my own anger at God, I had stopped having my quiet time with the Lord. Even though I continued to attend worship services, I was going through the motions there, too.

When I returned home, armed with the verses in hand, I looked them up and slowly read them out loud. “Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.” It was Philippians 4:6-7.

I had to break the words down, meditating on just a few at a time, but with each reading I felt as if a soothing balm was being lovingly massaged directly into my heart. Gradually, an amazing transformation began to occur. As I spent more time in the Word, I returned to prayer. Then the fog in my mind began to clear, sound sleep returned, and the heavy pain slowly subsided.

With God’s help I began crawling out of that deep, dark cave that my soul had been choking in for so many months. I became more patient and loving with my family, too, praying out loud with them again, infusing hope and comfort in their hurting hearts, as well.

I realized how close I had come to almost allowing the enemy to destroy my marriage, or even my life. God had divinely intervened; first through Jay and then with Joe, but mostly through the power of His Word. Christ is the light at the end of the tunnel. Our part is to turn to, and trust in, Him alone.

Wishing you peace,
Connie

Time Well Spent

“I’ve been offered a part-time job,” my friend, Linda, said in a tone that was more questioning than matter-of-fact. “But, I’m not sure what to do.”

Recently widowed and retired, Linda was still very active, both mentally and physically. She liked staying busy and had excellent secretarial skills; I assumed this job would be perfect for her. But, Linda went on to share that she had gotten used to her freedom, and while she could use the money, she could get by without it.

I said a quick prayer for wisdom before responding to her. Having been home writing for several years, I loved setting my own hours; arising early in the morning to write if I knew I had something else going on during the day. Sure, I could find a “real job” that paid better, but I knew I was doing what God called me to do. Plus, this flexibility had allowed me to spend more time with my aging parents, both of whom were around seventy.

Linda’s parents were even older and she was very close to them. We had a short discussion of the pro’s and con’s of going back to work, even just part-time, when suddenly I made a statement that I didn’t realize would make all the difference: “I’ve never regretted the extra time I had to spend with my dad, especially since he passed so unexpectedly.”

Those few years prior to my father’s passing, he and I had lunch together several times, which included lots of long talks about the past. One day, Dad accompanied me on the two hour trip to Ohio University to see my son. Dad and I had a great day together; even talking about the Lord, which Pops was never comfortable with. I didn’t pressure him, I simply shared my faith.

Dad quietly responded with, “I’m not ready to do that yet, but… don’t give up on me.”

I didn’t. And more importantly, God didn’t.

Unknown to dear ole Pops, his response had lit a fire in me to “pray without ceasing” for him (1 Thessalonians 5:17). I prayed daily for dad to come to the Lord and put his name on the prayer chain at my church, too.

Then, just two short years after our OU trip, I got the horrible call that dad’s aorta had suddenly burst—he had only hours to live. I arrived in time to remind Pops of our conversation—how the Lord had not given up on him. I told Dad to squeeze my hand if he was ready to ask Jesus into his heart—thankfully he squeezed hard.

Linda knew all about this, because…she had been married to my dad. She had witnessed over the years the seeds planted in his heart for Jesus. After dad passed, she rededicated her life to the Lord. Then just this year, she learned her father had only months to live. Linda was able to spend time caring for her dad and sharing her faith in private conversations with him. A few weeks before he passed, Linda’s father asked Jesus into his heart. He even went on to share his faith with his family before leaving this earth.

Sometimes the enemy tries to convince us that we need to make more money, or that we simply don’t have the time to invest in others. But in actuality, our time is a gift from God. One day we will stand before Him alone and give an account of how we spent it. Spend it well—for Him.

“But seek ye first the Kingdom of God…” (Matthew 6:33).

Seeking,
Connie

Thankful for His Gifts

It’s good to be back writing my column again. I am blessed to have such wonderful writing friends (Connie Johnston and Nanette Friend) who are willing to take over so I can focus time on other pressing items, such as the publicity and marketing of this new book.

When I first started writing almost twenty years ago, many book publishers could afford to hire their own publicists to set up interviews and arrange book signings for their authors, allowing writers more time to, well…write. But these days, unless you are a well-known and widely published author, most publishers don’t have it in their budget to promote your book. So, it is up to the author to see that those who could benefit from reading what they have written are made aware of it. The downside is—publicity is very time-consuming. Along with that, after months (or even years) of writing about your subject, you’re more than ready to move on to something else. But, you now have to stay excited about your book.

Thankfully, for me, it is easy to stay passionate about ministering to those behind bars. If you are a regular reader of this column you know God has given me a desire for prison ministry. It is a passion that has only increased over time, not diminished. I have been so blessed this past year to get even closer to some local jail ministry board members who share this passion, as we tirelessly worked together on many of the stories in the devotional book, Stories of Faith and Courage from Prison. And I’ve also been privileged to meet many dedicated people from around the country who diligently reach out to the incarcerated, spurring me on to keep laboring over this huge project.

God, in His infinite wisdom, knew just what I needed and when I needed it. And, He longs to do a similar work in your life, too. No, not necessarily writing a book, but there is some unique gift that He has placed inside of each one of us. There is something that He has made each of us passionate about. When we sincerely seek the Lord and ask Him to reveal to us what our gifts are, coupled with a true longing to serve others (instead of our focus being on making a name for ourself or becoming rich), I believe God is more than happy to reveal those gifts to us. He sits up and takes notice when our heart matches His. Nothing in life is more fulfilling than discovering who we are in the body of Christ, and then using our God-given gifts and talents to build up and bless others, thereby glorifying God in the process.

As we've entered into this time of thanks, followed by a hectic time of gift giving, I urge you to get alone with our Heavenly Father and seek Him with all your heart. You are special to Him and He has big plans for your life. Give Him thanks for the many blessings you have, including the unique way that He knit you together in your mother’s womb. Become determined to discover your gifts and to stay focused on living your life for His glory…for He alone is worthy to be praised.

Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; His love endures forever (1 Chronicles 16:34).

Thankfully,
Connie

 

The Single Red Pane

My husband and I visited our first male prison a few weeks ago. It was a nice prison, as prisons go, and we had a great visit. The man we visited, Timothy, is a good writer and has several stories in the upcoming prison devotional book, Stories of Faith and Courage from Prison. More importantly, he came to the Lord three days after being arrested. His conversion experience was powerful and sincere. It was a pleasure to meet him and witness his love for the Lord.

Tim teared up twice during our visit; once when we prayed with him before leaving, and the other when my husband asked if he minded if we came back to visit him again. He was humbled almost beyond words.

Tim gave me permission to share a special poem he wrote. It was recently published in our jail ministry newsletter, and is included in the new devotional, too. I think you’ll agree that he has, indeed, been given a gift. (Tim was recently transferred to another facility and is no longer at Lebanon Correctional.)


The Single Red Pane
By Timothy James Burke

It is ironic that in prison, where I have very limited freedom of movement, I should often feel lost. The distractions and temptations inside these walls are every bit as powerful as the ones outside, and staying focused is just as difficult.

In the chapel at Lebanon Correctional, we have all variety of inmates attending the services. Most are there for the right reasons, but some guys use the worship time to talk with their friends from other blocks, pass contraband, or just get out of the confines of their six-by-eleven boxes.

One Sunday, during a service in which I was having a tough time with my feelings and the distractions around me, I looked up and noticed that all of the chapel’s stained-glass panes were yellow, blue, or white – all but one pane. The following poem came through me….


Sunday, each Sunday, I sit in these pews

And listen to preachers dispensing their views.

Doing my best to ignore and deflect

All the talkers around me that won’t show respect…

Trying to tell if the sermon I heard

Matches up with the lessons I learned in the Word.

Trying to quiet my anger and violence

So I can hear Jesus alive in the silence.



Forgive me, God, for my negative mind

For the times when I don’t trust the plan You designed,

For the nights when my faith flies away on a breeze

Cause I’m too weak or stubborn to drop to my knees.

Dear God, my thoughts are full of disease

So I sit in these pews and I pray, “Father, please

Help me to walk on the path of pure light

With my eyes always forward and Jesus in sight.”

Tears wet my cheeks in a lacrimal flood

When I think of the Savior shedding His blood.

I look to the heavens for God to explain

And there…in the stained glass…a single red pane.



“I have not left you, My Word’s never lost;

The blood I gave freely has covered that cost.

That single red pane is there to remind you

Whenever you wander…I can still find you.

The blood that I gave left a permanent stain,

A sign and a promise, My love will remain.”



“… God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” Hebrews 13:5

As the Christmas season approaches, may we all keep in our hearts the true reason for the season.

In His Grace Alone,
Connie