crazy forty

Turning forty in T-minus eight days has me pondering death. I know that sounds melodramatic, but it’s true. Lately, I just can’t stop thinking about it. 

Someone once told me that turning forty is no biggie, that you’re only as old as you feel. Yea, I’m not buying that. Tell that to my cranky knees and failing eyesight. Tell that to the aches and pains in my joints. 

I hate that my body is changing. I hate that cold temps rock my body with pain I’ve never felt before. I used to love my birthday. Loved it. But that was before now. Forty, yea, I’m not so excited about this one.

Let’s face it, death is a bit scary. The unknown staring us down. Quite honestly, it’s the unfamiliar that makes it hard for me—what kind of mysteries await us? 

As a kid, I worried about dying, mostly because I didn’t want to go to heaven. Yup, you read it correctly; I didn’t want to go to heaven. For some reason, I pictured heaven as a place where we would all spend an eternity painting like Bob Ross. Forever and ever. Yikes! Did I mention that I hate to paint?

In fact, as a youngster I was so scared of dying that some nights I was reluctant to lay my head on my pillow. I would sit up in bed scared to death over, well, death. That’s when I decided it was time to take my worries to the only One who could help me get past these fears—God. 

And He did. 

After my junior year in college, I spent the summer as a counselor at a bible camp called Outlaw Ranch. Every week, a team of us drove to a nearby small town to run a week-long day camp for kids.

After we’d gassed up our seventies van, we headed out to the interstate, little suspecting what was about to take place. A few minutes in to the trip, one of our tires blew. Our van went careening towards the exit. 

In that moment, I knew that I was going to die. The miraculous thing is, I wasn’t afraid, not one bit. I felt satisfied and at peace. If this was my last day on earth, I could handle it. I truly could. An answer to prayer for sure.

Skip ahead, oh, eighteen years or so to the present. Now that I’m an adult, I wonder about death more. Ponder it more. While I know that turning forty doesn’t mean my life is over, there is something sobering about having lived half of it, give or take.

And though I’m no longer afraid of spending an eternity painting, I do have other fears. Mostly, it’s over the unknown. What will heaven be like? Will we see our family, the ones who have gone before us? Will we ever get to sit on God’s lap? Questions like these swirl around inside my brain stirring up new fears—fears over the mystery that awaits us. 

A very wise pastor once told me, “I don’t know what heaven will be like, but I know I won’t be disappointed.” Isn’t that beautiful? His words that day calmed my fears. I figured if God can take a world racked with sin, grief, and pain and still manage to make it beautiful, how much better will it be in heaven where there will be no more pain, grief, sickness or, most importantly, death.

That kind of heaven I can handle. So even if I do have to paint like Bob Ross for an eternity (which I’m pretty sure I won’t) I’m suddenly not so scared. Though I don’t know what awaits me in heaven, I know I won’t be disappointed. And neither will you.

in the darkness of his hand

In the Darkness of His Hand

Spring, 1999

Today, while I was walking out of school, I saw a butterfly trapped in the building.  It was trying to escape by beating itself against a closed window.  Feeling sorry for the little guy, I decided to carry it to freedom.  As I took the butterfly in my hands, I felt pain for it.   I knew it was scared.  It couldn’t understand what I was doing.  But, once I got outside the building and let it go, it floated happily away.

Sometimes, I feel like that butterfly.  Beating myself against a closed window, I try in vain to find my way to freedom.  Then, a hand encloses me and carries me off.  Does the One who holds me in His hand feel pain for me, knowing that I don’t really understand what He’s doing; that I’m scared and confused in the darkness of His hand?  Does He feel for me even though his plan means the difference between life and death?

I’m sure that butterfly wasn’t asking for a trip outside that day.  But I also know that if I hadn’t carried it off, it would have been lying dead in the windowsill the next morning.  I also know that, were God to ask me, I would choose a different path to freedom.  

Tonight, when I went to unload my car, the exact same type of butterfly was sitting on my hood.  I just stared in silent disbelief.   In that moment I knew that it was trying to tell me something.  But whether it was saying, “Thank you,” or telling me that freedom is worth the price you pay to get to it, I don’t know.  Maybe it was saying both. 

crazy faith

Hebrews 11:1-2 (NLT)

What is faith? It is the confident assurance that what we hope for is going to happen. It is the evidence of things we cannot yet see. God gave his approval to people in days of old because of their faith.

If you’ve never read chapter eleven in the book of Hebrews, I highly recommend it—especially if you’re running short on faith.

Merriam Webster’s Dictionary describes faith like this:

¹faith

noun \ˈfāth\

: strong belief or trust in someone or something.

I think most of us would agree that there are times when we are running low on faith. I’ve been there. Sometimes, in a hard situation the last thing I want to do is believe. 

How do you have faith when you’re walking through a furnace of fiery trials? Whether it’s losing your job, or running short on money, or being betrayed by a friend, faith is no easy thing. And maybe what makes things even more difficult is the feeling that God has let us down.

I sometimes wonder why God is so interested in faith; why He values it so much. Maybe it’s because faith is a hot commodity, and not always easy to come by. 

My favorite bible story about faith is found in Matthew Chapter Fifteen when a Gentile woman asks Jesus to heal her daughter. When she begs for help, Jesus doesn’t respond with the love and compassion we would expect. No, He ignores her. 

But this woman is not so easily deterred. In fact she begins pleading in earnest. So much so that the disciples ask Jesus to send her away. They’re very annoyed by all of her begging. 

Jesus’ response to the woman’s cry for help seems rather harsh, “I was sent only to help the people of Israel—God’s lost sheep—not the Gentiles.”

This tenacious woman does not give up. She throws herself at his feet and pleads again, “Lord, help me!” 

Once again, Jesus speaks to her, but rather than the merciful words we would expect, He uses rather severe language. In fact, He compares her to a dog, saying, “It isn’t right to take food from the children and throw it to the dogs.” 

Really? He’s calling her a dog? What the heck. But maybe there’s more to this story than meets the eye. Because in response to being called a dog, she replies, “Yes, Lord, but even dogs are permitted to eat crumbs that fall beneath their master’s table.”

And that’s when the truth is revealed. It turns out that Jesus wasn’t being rude, disrespectful, impolite or unmerciful. He was testing her—testing her heart to see what kind of mettle it was made of. 

In fact, Jesus seems pleased with her responses to his rebuffs, and says, “Woman your faith is great. Your request is granted.”

So why the delay in healing her daughter? Why the harsh words? It’s simple. Jesus was giving her the opportunity to show just how strong her faith was.

Are you starting to lose heart, lose faith, give up? Don’t. It might seem that Jesus is passing you by, ignoring your cries for help. But remember this. If Jesus seems to be turning his back on you, He may just be giving you the opportunity of a lifetime, too. The chance to let your faith shine for all the world to see.