A Gift from a Friend

KellyBreece@aol.com (Kelly Breece) — Mon, 04 May 2009 02:00:00 -0500

What can one person do at such a painful time?

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn (Romans 12:15 TNIV).

A dear friend, James, taught me a life affirming lesson a few days ago - and I am grateful for his lesson and the opportunity it gave me to connect with a dear friend. The lesson happened when a mutual friend of ours, named Karen, lost the love of her life, suddenly. Being a highly respected and prominent figure in our city, his passing would undoubtedly draw a huge crowd for the family visitation in his honor. Even though I was almost consumed with thoughts of Karen, her daughter, and their sadness, I felt a sense of insignificance in anything that I could ever do to bring comfort to them. After all, it had been several years since our paths had crossed. We probably wouldn't even know what to say to each other. I prayed for their broken hearts. I prayed that God would comfort them, but as I thought more and more about the droves of notable and distinguished people who would surely come to the visitation, I talked myself out of going. I didn't think I had any words that could possibly help her, although I so wished I did. So I went about the day, quietly thinking of my friend. Around 2:00 that afternoon, my phone rang, and it was James. He asked if I was going to the visitation; he asked me as if he already knew the answer was "yes." After all, we had been corresponding by email about the sadness we both felt for Karen. After a long pause, my excuses started to flow. I couldn't believe my own ears, quite frankly. James, being the understanding person that he is, quietly said, "Well, if it works out for you to go, just call me back and I'll meet you there." His gentle, non-judgmental words lingered after I hung up the phone. I decided to quickly rearrange the afternoon, threw on a basic black outfit, and called James back. "I can be there in 30 minutes," I told him. We stood in a long line, and my palms started to sweat as we got closer. What will I say? What could I say that hasn't already been said? I'm just another person for whom Karen, who's already exhausted, will have to muster up some sweet response for the generic, hopefully politically correct, sympathetic phrase that I will probably give. She softly smiled to a few ladies ahead of us. She shook hands with men she'd never met. Then the line cleared, and there we were, face to face. She stopped. She took a deep breath. Silently she reached out her hands for James and me. And softly, she said, "Give me just a minute." And she began to cry. I felt my own tears well up as I slipped into that brief, but precious, moment. I saw tears in James' eyes, too. For a few seconds, no one said a word. All the years that had passed just fell away as we stood there, holding the hand of our friend. In that quiet moment, my heart overflowed with gratefulness for the friendships that we're all blessed with in this life. I felt a deep gratefulness to James for reminding me just how incredibly essential those friendships are to living our lives, no matter how many years may separate us. The most important thing I learned that day was that when a person is hurting, there is always room for one more familiar face. Even if we don't have the right "words," a familiar voice is often enough to comfort a friend in a deep moment of pain. And that same familiar voice is often enough to help comfort them in a lot of the moments that lie ahead of them. I hope to never again doubt that God has a plan and a way of using us when someone who is close to us is hurting. Thank you, James.

About the author: Kelly Breece lives in Hendersonville,Tn. with her husband, Michael, and their two children. She's worked in television production in Nashville for over 14 years. To read more articles like this, visit Our Morning Cup.

The Other Side of 'Tragedy'

Not Applicable (Paul Faulkner) — Fri, 04 May 2007 02:00:00 -0500

What good thing can come out of bad things?

Coach Gene Stallings led Alabama to a National Championship in football. He has a wonderful family of four girls and one wonderful boy. That boy was born with Downs Syndrome and will never lead what we call a "normal" life. Some would say this was a real tragedy - a man's man with four girls and his only boy can't follow in his dad's footsteps. But, I asked the family in an interview if there were any specific turning point in their family. They all replied, "Oh yes! When Johnny was born!" Johnny was the catalyst for a wonderful spiritual renewal in that family ... the whole family ... other families whom they regularly touch. (On the eve of Coach Stallings' first game of his championship Alabama season, he called another man who had three girls and his boy on the way was going to have Downs Syndrome. They talked for hours ... about the blessing ... about how some cultures consider them angels ... and about how their life will be full of joy and love.) What appears as tragedy, if nothing else, opens our eyes to how frail we really are. But the good news is, those who survive and persevere are those who look at the other side of tragedy and draw power and joy through and from their sorrow, to those who trust in Him to bring strength, reunion, and victory. So let's make the rest of the day work a little better by remembering that the "unusual" and "abnormal" may be the way God brings His grace to you.

About the author: Dr. Faulkner was the very first person of note and influence who shared his content with us at HEARTLIGHT.org beginning in 1996.

Paul Faulkner taught on the Abilene Christian University campus full-time for 35 years. He was honored in 1982 as the university's Teacher of the Year. He wrote several books and was a much sought-after speaker and seminar leader along with his Marriage Enrichment partner, Dr. Carl Brecheen. Dr. Faulkner mentored many ministers and church leaders, shared his loving homespun humor and wisdom through many channels, and endeared himself to thousands. Our dear friend and mentor went to be with the Lord in 2022, but his legacy lives on in the lives of those he touched and made better.

The Faith Gap in '42'

trshelly@lipscomb.edu (Rubel Shelly) — Fri, 03 May 2013 02:00:00 -0500

Want to know what is missing in this great story of freedom?

[Jesus said,] "You have heard the law that says the punishment must match the injury: 'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.' But I say, do not resist an evil person! If someone slaps you on the right cheek, offer the other cheek also (Matthew 5:38-39).

The Jackie Robinson story "42" tells how Robinson broke baseball's color barrier - a story I've loved as a baseball fan for as long as I can remember. But there is a glaring omission in the movie's account, one that doesn't surprise me. I love the story of Jackie Robinson's courageous pushback against racism in baseball and American society. He changed the game forever, and he made millions of people who care nothing at all about baseball rethink some of their prejudices. In the movie version of his dramatic triumph, the account of how Robinson's Christian faith was central to all that happened is omitted. Robinson frequently attributed his ability to deal with the physical and verbal abuse that came his way to his faith in God. Mallie, his mother, taught her five children that God loved them and would take care of them. "I never stopped believing that," said Robinson of his mother's message. Then there was Karl Downs, pastor of Scott United Methodist Church in Pasadena, Calif. Growing up in Pasadena, young Robinson had not always been a model citizen. Some of the race-baiting he experienced led to fights. There were even a few scrapes with the police. But Downs noticed the angry youngster, reached out to him, and became the father figure he desperately needed. He introduced him to Jesus and brought him to faith. Robinson began the habit of praying beside his bed every night. Finally, there was his signing with the Brooklyn Dodgers that was negotiated by General Manager Branch Rickey. Rickey, who called himself a "Bible-thumping Methodist," wanted to bring someone from the Negro Leagues who could both succeed at baseball and exhibit the sort of personal character that would not defeat his experiment at social engineering. In the famous scene where Robinson signs his Dodgers contract, the movie slights history. According to Chris Lamb, a professor at Indiana University, the first meeting between Rickey and Robinson went this way: Rickey pulled out a book on his desk titled The Life of Christ, read Jesus' line from the Sermon on the Mount about turning the other cheek, and asked Robinson to read from a section from the book about "nonresistance" to evil provocations. The two men made a covenant with each other about following the biblical ideal. We should be used to it by now, but Hollywood doesn't like to feature anything positive about Christian faith. I suppose we'll just have to turn the other cheek and try to find a way to return good for evil. That his faith is omitted from the movie doesn't diminish the fact of its power.

About the author: Rubel Shelly preached for decades and served as a professor of medical ethics, Bible, and philosophy at multiple universities. He was a former president of Rochester College and Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Lipscomb University. He was the author of more than 30 books and hundreds of inspirational articles. His commitment to a non-sectarian presentation of the gospel touched countless lives.

Place of Quiet Rest

sherrill@cox-internet.com (Bill Sherrill) — Sat, 03 May 2008 02:00:00 -0500

Do you have such a place?

The Lord your God in your midst,
The Mighty One, will save;
He will rejoice over you with gladness,
He will quiet you with His love,
He will rejoice over you with singing (Zephaniah 3:17 NKJV).

Is there a place, which lies within your memory, where you go for refuge? A place where the insults and fears drift away and give residence to feelings of joy and peace? Bee Rock was such a place for me in my youth, and my mind still goes there in these later years. Just a few miles to the north of my home town, where the Little Red River made its last assault on the foothills of the Ozark Mountain uprise, before spreading lazily into the widening soft soil of the flatlands, there was a bluff of sheer stone overhanging the river. At one time, many years earlier, men had shattered the peace and quiet of the area, blasting with dynamite, to recover the stone for gravel roads. But now, the old gravel plant is long gone and the noise of its thundering blasts and raging rock crusher have given way to the gentle breezes and the peaceful songs of the Mourning Dove and Bobwhite Quail. Just at the south edge of that ragged gouge where men robbed Nature of her treasure, there is a prominence which is untouched, still beautiful and serene. And my heart is often found there, drawing once more the peace and serenity that heals the troubled soul. Some of my best decisions were made on that outcropping over the Little Red River. Perhaps the most important one of my life among them. I have a friend who was my idol as a boy. He was brighter than most. His mind filled with a thousand wonders and a heart of science. We were both fascinated with guns and often slipped away to the gravel pit to test some new rifle or shell. And we never left without climbing to the point which rose more than one hundred feet over the Little Red River. But I was speaking of important decisions, two rush clearly to my mind. The first changed the character of my speech for life. Sitting there on the point, and I suspect wanting to impress Bill Rushton with my maturity, I included a few good words of profanity in a statement I likely thought profound. There was a silence while he looked straight into my face. Then he replied, "That is the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say!" I was crestfallen, but I never used foul language again. The second, the one to which I referred as being the most important in my life, came at a time when I struggled desperately to hold some sense of faith in God and His Word. Bill and I sat there in our place, leaning back against the lone tree which had clung to the bare rocks to survive many a storm, and we silently gazed at the beauty of that view. To the north lay the ragged cliffs of the gravel pit. To the northeast the Little Red River flowed with turbulent stream through Echo Dell and became quiet as it slowed in the wider pool which lay below us. With the mountain still rising to our backs in the west and the gentler hills to the east, we sat and thought. A thing we both loved to do to separate ourselves from the turmoil of life away from this wonderful spot. Bill spoke without even looking in my direction. "A man would have to be a fool not to believe in God in a place like this." If his bright mind saw God there, then surely it must be true! There is a line from an old song that comes to mind:

There is a place of quiet rest, near to the heart of God. A place where fears cannot molest, near to the heart of God.

For me, Bee Rock must be that place, "near to the heart of God."

About the author: Bill is a long time minister in Nacogdoches, Texas who loves world missions. His passion for ministry has led him all over the world. In addition to his work as a minister, he is also a licensed professional counselor. Bill's family is also involved in ministry and service to the world and community.

Excavation

p.d.odum@gmail.com (Patrick D. Odum) — Fri, 02 May 2008 02:00:00 -0500

What's buried in the concrete of your heart?

If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must rule over it (Genesis 4:7 NIV).

The brand new Yankee Stadium, currently under construction in the Bronx, is a multi-million dollar project. With deadlines looming and costs mounting, you know that it would take a serious problem for workers to show up on a weekend to jackhammer newly-poured concrete. However, that's exactly what happened on April 13th. Workers showed up to break apart two-and-a-half feet of concrete on what will eventually be a concourse. Structural problems? Not really. More like sabotage. By terrorists? Well, that would depend on who you ask, I suppose. The culprit, actually, is a construction worker from the Bronx named Gino Castignoli, who only worked one day on the project. But, that one day could have had serious consequences for the Yankees franchise, its fans, and the entire city of New York. Yankees president Randy Levine called Castignoli's offense a "bad, dastardly act," and the Yankees are discussing with the District Attorney the possibility of bringing charges against him. No, he didn't use sub-standard material, or rig the part of the stadium he worked on to collapse. He buried a David Ortiz Boston Red Sox jersey in the concrete he laid. The Red Sox and Yankees are, of course, divisional rivals. Their animosity goes back at least as far as 1918, when the Sox traded a young pitcher named Babe Ruth to the Yankees. The trade, so the legend goes, cursed the Red Sox, who didn't win another World Series until 2004. The two teams' - and their fans' - hatred of each other is arguably the most intense in sports. Rarely does a season go by in which at least one Yankees - Red Sox game isn't interrupted by a brawl. Castignoli, a Red Sox fan who literally lives in the Yankees' neighborhood, apparently hoped that burying the jersey in the stadium would "curse" the Yankees' new home. Two other workers - Yankee loyalists, I guess - ratted Castignoli out. It's a measure of how seriously the Yankees take the rivalry that they would take the time and expense to dig the jersey out. I mean, what, a couple of square feet of polyester and cotton twill? What harm could it possibly do to a gigantic concrete and steel stadium? Still, the Yankees preferred to take no chances, and out came the jackhammers. Best to dig it out now so there's no chance of regretting it later. Maybe that's a good attitude for us all to adopt toward the stuff that we might have buried in our lives where it doesn't belong. "Sin" is the term that the Bible uses for that kind of thing. It really seems like sort of an old-fashioned word, doesn't it - more appropriate for the "black or white" revival circuit than for life in today's more complicated, "shades-of-grey" world? We prefer to speak of "mistakes" or "weaknesses" or "character flaws" or "addictions," and those terms can all be helpful. The problem is that those are usually after-the-fact words that we use for the stuff that we might have had buried in our lives for a long, long time, before they come to light. I mean, we usually live with anger management problems for years before a broken marriage or family or friendship forces us to speak of the problem. Lust can lie buried beneath layers of respectability for a long time before adultery or other sexual immorality exposes it. Selfishness and greed can stay undisturbed for much of our lives, and leave us absolutely puzzled about why giving doesn't bring us any joy or why what we attain is never enough to satisfy us. Genesis says that long before Cain raised his hand against his brother Abel, sin was "crouching at [his] door." His jealousy, his anger, and his callous disregard for his own "flesh and blood" lay buried and untouched deep in his heart before it came spewing out in homicidal rage. Like most of us will do if left to ourselves, Cain tried to shift the blame for his actions; he wasn't treated fairly, God didn't appreciate him, and so on and so on. Not so different, really, from the layers of blame and bitterness that cover our own sins.

If only my spouse appreciated me more.
If only my boss wasn't such a jerk.
If only life would deal me a fair hand.
If only my parents had been more loving or accepting.

So we walk around angry, faces downcast, so focused on our hurt or anger or disappointment that we fail to deal with the real problem: down deep in our hearts lurks sin, waiting, biding its time, a curse waiting to happen. The good news, of course, is that it doesn't have to be that way. The gospel proclaims that we have a Father in heaven who loves us, who sent his Son to die for our sins, and raised him to pour out his Spirit into our lives and hearts. "His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness ..." That's the overwhelming claim the apostle Peter makes in reflecting back on Jesus' life and work (2 Peter 1:3-4). Peter goes on to say that through Jesus, God "has given us his very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature, having escaped the corruption in the world caused by evil desires." In short, Peter reminds us that in Christ God has given us the awareness and the power to do some excavation: the integrity to be honest about what is buried in our hearts and the tools to dig it out. "Make every effort to confirm your calling and election sure ..." he exhorts us (2 Peter 1:10), reminding us that while God supplies the energy and the opportunity for us to confront the sin in our lives, it's up to us to be willing to make the hard choices and do the difficult excavation that God's calling demands of us. Among other things, that means that we have to be honest about the sin that still lurks in our hearts and crouches at our doorstep. Our churches must be places where confession is encouraged and repentance truly celebrated. We must have relationships of mutual accountability in which hypocrisy is exposed and we call each other to godliness and righteousness. And we must always be willing to let the jackhammer of the gospel chip away at our pride, arrogance, and pretense so that God can get at the sin that still lies underneath. In Christ, the curse is counteracted. But, it won't make a bit of difference if we can't let the sin buried in our hearts be exposed to his light and life and healing. Take a deep breath. Time for some excavation.

About the author: Patrick Odum lives in Chicago, Illinois, with his wife, Laura and son, Joshua. He is one of the ministers at Northwest Church of Christ, and an avid Heartlight fan. He enjoys writing and maintains a website of his work called Faith Web where you can find all of his articles. Email Patrick

Featured Articles from Heartlight

A Gift from a Friend

The Other Side of 'Tragedy'

The Faith Gap in '42'

Place of Quiet Rest

Excavation