Twenty Years

It was August 31, 1990, the Friday night of Labor Day weekend. My Junior year of high school. The guys on the field were battling one of our rivals, and we were all in good spirits. A quarter or so into the game, I heard sirens on the road that ran behind our school, where the dragway was located. I turned to my friend Sarah and said I heard an ambulance.

"Probably an accident at the race." We could hear engines rev occasionally, but they were usually overpowered by the sounds of the game.

"Gosh, I hope nobody was hurt," I said as the siren wailed down Highway 401 and faded into the distance. I could tell it was moving quickly. I said a quick prayer in my head, then turned my focus back to the game.

I had no way of knowing how completely wrong our assumptions might be. No hint at the precious cargo that ambulance carried past me. No inkling what that siren would come to represent.

A few moments passed, and I spotted my neighbor and her husband at the end of the bleachers, beckoning me. Catherine was a Brit. A petite, sophisticated PhD with a pixie cut, she looked out of place at a late-summer high school football game. She was a great neighbor. I visited her regularly. Granddaddy and I had both shared the love of Jesus Christ with her several times. She was shocked at the concept of intelligent design. She'd never considered anything but evolution.

When my gaze fell on her that night, my heart skipped a beat.

Something was wrong. Badly wrong.

I moved to the end of the bleachers. "Catherine, what are you doing here?"

"Renee, something's happened. You need to come with us."

My heart thudded. Had one of my parents been in an accident? My uncle? Had the house burned down? Granny? My mind raced with possibilities. I asked what was wrong, but they wouldn't tell me. Not there, in a crowd of my peers. I followed them numbly away from the stands and down the hill from the football field to the lower fields that were filled with cars.

My stomach knotted. With the chatter of the crowd and shouts of the game now in the distance, I stopped. "Please tell me what's wrong. I've got to know."

Catherine and her husband glanced at each other. "It's your grandfather. He's had a heart attack."

Oh, God. No. He was my rock. My anchor and foundation. My shelter. The man who made everything okay when it all went wrong. He held the frayed fabric of our family together.

No. She was wrong. She had to be. But the look in her eyes told me the truth.

He was gone.

Just like that. With the siren. My world slid off its axis and into God's hands. My knees buckled with the blow.

I have no idea how they got me to their car and into the back seat. Heartbroken, in a state of shock, I don't remember what I said. It was my youth pastor who told me of my words the next day, and the impact they'd had on Catherine.

"Lord, I know You have a reason. Jesus, You must have a reason."

I do remember thinking it, telling myself more than Him. Trying to assure myself that though every shred of security had just been ripped from me, I would be okay. I had no idea I was saying it out loud.

Somehow, I walked from the driveway to the open front door of my grandparents' home. People were already there. I looked up the steps at our bedrooms. Last time I saw him was when he went to his room that afternoon for a nap. Had I told him I loved him? I couldn't remember. I still can't.

My youth pastor and his mom were there. Other friends showed up too. I was numb, half aware of their presence. Catherine saw me safely to the front door, then stayed outside with her husband.

A few days after the funeral, my pastor told me what I'd said in the car and what Catherine told him: "I don't know what kind of faith this family has, but I want it."

A week or so later, Catherine had to have a pacemaker installed. I went to see her when she got home. She was studying in a Bible in her sunroom when I arrived. She told me she'd accepted Christ a few days before.

And then I knew the reason. If only Granddaddy could have known that his death was part of God's master plan for the neighbor we'd prayed for daily.

Sometimes God lets us glimpse His plan in the midst of our suffering. I think He gives us those moments to strengthen our faith for the times when He knows we can't see it.

It's been twenty years, and I still cry when I remember that night. His death impacted every facet of my life. I know it was God's will for him to go home, but I will never stop missing him.

I love you, Granddaddy. Jesus, thank You for the time I had with him. Thank You for the plan You have for me and the path You have chosen for my life.

Emunah

What exactly is faith? Faith is, for the most part, a convoluted idea. I mean, we know from the book of James that faith isn’t just believing there’s a God (James 2:19-20), but what exactly is it? 
Emunah. That’s the Hebrew word for faith, and its literal translation is “trust-grounded obedience.”
James has a lot to say about faith and works, and how the two go hand-in-hand. I wrote a lengthy entry about that, but I decided it would be best if you just go to James 1 and 2 and read it for yourself. Please do. You'll be blessed.
Bottom line, James says that you must be doers of the word, and not just hearers (James 1:22-25), and that faith without works is as dead as a body without a spirit (James 2:14-26). Keep in mind that James isn’t talking about just any works. In the first half of James 2 (verses 1-13), you see that these "works" are acts of obedience to the Lord’s commandments…the “law” as it is translated here.
This word “law” is the Torah, the first five books of the Bible. The Greeks had an advanced legal system, but they didn’t have anything comparable to the Torah. When translating the Septuagint, they selected the Greek word nomia, meaning “an unalterable law,” to represent this complicated Hebrew concept in a way that the Greeks might better understand.
But herein lies the problem. Torah is not law. The Hebrew word torah literally means “God’s teaching and instruction.” Further, its root word is orah, which means “light.”
The Torah is God’s teaching and instruction, given by Him to illuminate the path man should walk.
Jesus is God’s Word made flesh, the Torah incarnate—sent to dwell among us, to bring spiritual light in the darkness (John 1:1-14).
Trust-grounded obedience. Not obeying out of fear of punishment if we don't. Not even out of the desperation that comes with trying to earn His unmerited favor—those things can never be faith. No, there is no striving here. Only resting. This is obedience motivated by trust—in the One who died for us, redeemed us and restored us to Himself. Trust because of His lovingkindness, which births a desire to obey, not to earn anything, but simply because we love Him and want to please Him.
The hardest part of faith isn't the obedience. It's the trust.

Daddy, Read the Next One

My husband reads our children a chapter each night from The Jesus Storybook Bible. Tonight our son hung on his every word as Daddy read about Jesus' death on the cross. The chapter ended with the stone sealing up the tomb.
Normally, Doug will read one chapter, then the kids will pray together. Then I take over and read a chapter from a children's book (we're currently re-reading Little House on the Prairie), pray over them, and tuck them in. But tonight as Doug closed the devotional book, he asked our son, "Do you know what happened to Jesus next?" Little guy couldn't remember. He begged him, "Daddy, read the next one!" So we forewent the chapter book tonight and continued reading in the devotional.
Thank goodness for the rest of the story.

The Birthday Gift

Check out this dialogue from my house this morning. Keep in mind that my daughter is five, and my son is three. I've left out their names to protect them:
Daughter: Mommy, are you 36 today?
Me: Yes!
Daughter: When people get really old, they shrink a little.
Me: That’s true. But I’m not really old.
Son: When you get really old, you die. Are you going to die now, Mommy.
Me: No! I’ve got a long time left to live, Buddy. And so do you.
Daughter: Mommy, do you know Mamaw and Papaw’s neighbor?
Me: Evelyn?
Daughter: Yeah. She’s really old, and she said she shrank a little!
Me: *laughing* Well, I haven’t shrunk any yet. You know, you’re not really old until you’re like 90.
Daughter (I think): Do you die when you’re 90? (or something like that)
Me: Well, some people live to be over 100.
Daughter: Do people live to be a million or a billion? (Stay with me here, it’s about to get amazingly good, I promise.)
Me: No, people don’t live that long. But before the flood, people sometimes lived to be 700-and-some years old.
Son: When will heaven come down?
Me: When Jesus comes back.
Son: Is Jesus here now?
Daughter: No, silly!
Me: He hasn’t come back yet, but He is here. He lives in your heart if you believe in Him. Do you believe in Him, Son?
Son: Yeah.
Me: Do you want to ask Him to live in your heart?
Son: Yeah. Live in my heart, Jesus.
Me: Come here, baby. Do you want to pray and ask Jesus to be your God?
Son (on my lap): Yeah.
Me: Well, let's do that. I can help you pray it.
Son: Okay
Me and Son: Jesus, I know I’ve sinned. I’m not perfect. But you died for me and paid for my sins. Come live in my heart and be my God forever. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
How awesome was that?? And ON MY BIRTHDAY!! I told him, “Buddy, this is the best present Mommy could ever have gotten, to have you ask Jesus to live in your heart.” He was very pleased.