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<</div>Watching From The Waterline
Watching From The Waterline
Living Between Heaven and Earth
She seethed with all the rage an eleven-year-old could muster. I hadn't even stopped the car completely when she jumped out of the front seat and glared at me through the window. Catherine was a force. Never had she been madder at me than she was at that moment, and she was making sure I knew it before she stomped off to her classroom.
I put the car in park and waded into the indignant fury radiating from my beloved daughter.
"Honey, I know you're mad, and I'm sorry about that. But you and I never know when will be the last time we will see each other. I never want us to part on these terms. I love you."
She was literally taken aback. Her head jerked upwards slightly in shock, and the body that had been quivering with rage slowed to a stop. She thought for a moment, then came over and hugged me. I'm sure she was still angry, but I was amazed that a kid her age would take that to heart. For the next three years, until the day she died, she seemed to live with the perspective born of that moment. Thank God, thank God. I had no idea I'd lose her so soon.
After her accident, I seethed with all the rage a forty-four-year-old could muster. I didn't understand God's perspective on my loss any more than Catherine understood why I made her go to summer school. I stomped and screamed and glared through the windows of Heaven, shaking my fist at the God who'd abandoned me. Had He not heard my prayers for her life? Didn't He love me?
How could He do this to me?
Night after night, when I wanted to die, I instead searched the Bible for comfort. Words that had once only warmed my heart now pried open my eyes to eternity. So long ago, in an upper room, the man who was God faced an excruciating death. Rather than pleading with His friends for compassion, He gave them a hope: a hope they could cling to, a hope I could cling to, the hope that would save my sanity. He took me aback with this promise:
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you may also be where I am. You know the way to the place I am going." (John 14:1-4 NIV)
I wish I could say I responded to God as quickly as my child had come and hugged me. Rather, He suffered my rage and endured my fury until I collapsed at the foot of the Cross. From there He could lift me out of the pit. In the darkest of nights, when her accident haunted me, I learned to picture Jesus coming for Catherine in the high mountain meadow where she died. With her unbroken smile she'd be so happy to see Him! He'd hold out His hand, and she'd grin and accept, and together they'd fade from my sight. My daughter's in Heaven, waiting for me. What a comfort! What a Savior. Thank you, Jesus.
...as it is written: "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him."- (1 Corinthians 2:9 NIV)
©2012 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com.
I put the car in park and waded into the indignant fury radiating from my beloved daughter.
"Honey, I know you're mad, and I'm sorry about that. But you and I never know when will be the last time we will see each other. I never want us to part on these terms. I love you."
She was literally taken aback. Her head jerked upwards slightly in shock, and the body that had been quivering with rage slowed to a stop. She thought for a moment, then came over and hugged me. I'm sure she was still angry, but I was amazed that a kid her age would take that to heart. For the next three years, until the day she died, she seemed to live with the perspective born of that moment. Thank God, thank God. I had no idea I'd lose her so soon.
After her accident, I seethed with all the rage a forty-four-year-old could muster. I didn't understand God's perspective on my loss any more than Catherine understood why I made her go to summer school. I stomped and screamed and glared through the windows of Heaven, shaking my fist at the God who'd abandoned me. Had He not heard my prayers for her life? Didn't He love me?
How could He do this to me?
Night after night, when I wanted to die, I instead searched the Bible for comfort. Words that had once only warmed my heart now pried open my eyes to eternity. So long ago, in an upper room, the man who was God faced an excruciating death. Rather than pleading with His friends for compassion, He gave them a hope: a hope they could cling to, a hope I could cling to, the hope that would save my sanity. He took me aback with this promise:
"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you may also be where I am. You know the way to the place I am going." (John 14:1-4 NIV)
I wish I could say I responded to God as quickly as my child had come and hugged me. Rather, He suffered my rage and endured my fury until I collapsed at the foot of the Cross. From there He could lift me out of the pit. In the darkest of nights, when her accident haunted me, I learned to picture Jesus coming for Catherine in the high mountain meadow where she died. With her unbroken smile she'd be so happy to see Him! He'd hold out His hand, and she'd grin and accept, and together they'd fade from my sight. My daughter's in Heaven, waiting for me. What a comfort! What a Savior. Thank you, Jesus.
...as it is written: "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him."- (1 Corinthians 2:9 NIV)
©2012 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com.
Hiking In Winter
Lugging our suitcases and weighed down by winter, Kevin and I high-tailed it out of the house a couple of weeks ago, down to the flatlands of Colorado Springs. Cabin fever had me by the throat, and I was itching to hike in the great outdoors. Surely warmer weather had come to our lower altitudes! Arriving late in the day, we hustled our bags into the room, drew back the drapes, and drew in our breath. Even for jaded mountain-dwellers, the view was spectacular. We had come to the Garden of the Gods.
Here, camels and castles of red sandstone rock rise sharply from the valley below. This desert-like fantasy stands directly in front of massive Pike's Peak, her icy-white summit scraping open the sky. Her purple mountain's majesty may have been covered with snow, but the park at her base offered hiking year-round. The next day called for breezy sunshine, highs in the forties, no forecast of snow. Obviously, a great day for a hike!
As I slept, I heard the wind rise. It started like a quiet hug, a welcoming embrace blowing down from the hills. By morning it was like an elephant on the loose, shaking the windows and buffeting the walls as it rampaged across the valley. But, we were here. The sun was out so we packed our bags and set off to walk among the red sandstone giants. I had forgotten what it's like to hike in the winter.
It was cold. And dry. So dry my fingertips cracked and my lips shriveled into a couple of prunes. My hair whipped my face and grit coated the rest. We toughed it out for a couple of hours, bracing ourselves when gusts turned to gales. It didn't take long to figure out why our fancy resort was practically giving rooms away. Everyone else was smart enough to know that March is still winter in Colorado, no matter what part of the state you are in. There's just no rushing spring.
There's just no rushing God, either.
The weeks and months and sometimes years I've waited for an answer to prayer can feel like the winter that never ends. One day, impatience sneaks up behind me. It grabs me by the throat, drags my backpack out of storage, and hands me a list of things to do. I gear up, watch the forecast, and strike out on my own. Going somewhere is better than going nowhere, right?
Probably not.
Waiting for spring is like waiting for God. They will both show up in their appointed time. Hiking in winter has its share of adventure, but there's snow in the shadows and ice on the rocks. When the breezes blow warm and winter has passed, camels and castles of red sandstone rock will welcome us back to the great outdoors. God will call me outside and I'll follow His lead. It is His garden, after all.
Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord- Psalm 27:14 NIV
©2012 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipshipwithjesus.com
Here, camels and castles of red sandstone rock rise sharply from the valley below. This desert-like fantasy stands directly in front of massive Pike's Peak, her icy-white summit scraping open the sky. Her purple mountain's majesty may have been covered with snow, but the park at her base offered hiking year-round. The next day called for breezy sunshine, highs in the forties, no forecast of snow. Obviously, a great day for a hike!
As I slept, I heard the wind rise. It started like a quiet hug, a welcoming embrace blowing down from the hills. By morning it was like an elephant on the loose, shaking the windows and buffeting the walls as it rampaged across the valley. But, we were here. The sun was out so we packed our bags and set off to walk among the red sandstone giants. I had forgotten what it's like to hike in the winter.
It was cold. And dry. So dry my fingertips cracked and my lips shriveled into a couple of prunes. My hair whipped my face and grit coated the rest. We toughed it out for a couple of hours, bracing ourselves when gusts turned to gales. It didn't take long to figure out why our fancy resort was practically giving rooms away. Everyone else was smart enough to know that March is still winter in Colorado, no matter what part of the state you are in. There's just no rushing spring.
There's just no rushing God, either.
The weeks and months and sometimes years I've waited for an answer to prayer can feel like the winter that never ends. One day, impatience sneaks up behind me. It grabs me by the throat, drags my backpack out of storage, and hands me a list of things to do. I gear up, watch the forecast, and strike out on my own. Going somewhere is better than going nowhere, right?
Probably not.
Waiting for spring is like waiting for God. They will both show up in their appointed time. Hiking in winter has its share of adventure, but there's snow in the shadows and ice on the rocks. When the breezes blow warm and winter has passed, camels and castles of red sandstone rock will welcome us back to the great outdoors. God will call me outside and I'll follow His lead. It is His garden, after all.
Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord- Psalm 27:14 NIV
©2012 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipshipwithjesus.com
Finding Our Way When the Boat Turned Over
Like a wounded white whale washed up on the beach, the Costa Concordia lies on her side. The pictures shock and frighten us. What's worse- an incompetent captain running aground, or the realization that cruise ships really can sink? As a dedicated cruiser I never thought twice about putting my life in the captain's hands. I took it for granted he knew what he was doing.
We've always departed from US ports, where the first order of business is the safety drill. The horn blasts, we cast off, and before the coast is out of sight we dutifully file into our assigned common areas. We grumble and groan as the crew straps us into our life jackets, until the crowd resembles a sea of heads afloat on an orange tide. "Remember your muster station," the head strapper warns. "Come here in case of emergency." I've sometimes wondered what it would really look like: passengers running in every direction, trying to remember where to go. In my wildest dreams I never envisioned the ship turning over, the lights going out, and the crew swimming ashore without me.
But now we've seen the pictures. The passengers must have been terrified: crawling uphill, blind in the dark, fighting the pull of gravity as the water rose around them. Photos show tiny figures rappelling across the belly of the beast, desperate to reach the lifeboats in the sea far below. Even in the movies it's horrifying. I can't imagine how they had the courage to try. But I have experienced the adrenaline-fueled panic of my own surreal disaster.
Last week we observed the anniversary of our daughter's death, the result of a snowmobile accident. Nothing could have prepared us for what we saw in the Emergency Room. Blessedly, her spirit had gone on to Heaven before we saw her body. In my wildest nightmares I never imagined the worst could actually happen, but it did: our ship went down in a matter of minutes. In its place spun a vortex: a cold, silent tide, sucking the warmth from my hands and the blood from my heart. I breathed in the dirt from the ER carpet, lying on my side like the Costa Concordia.
"Expect the unexpected." Insurance companies thrive on helping us prepare for emergencies. For peace of mind we gather under the umbrella of impending doom with like-minded others, sharing the cost to cover the poor slob with the rotten luck to die early. We are ready- just in case. As we set sail into the future we ignore the rocks under the surface as best we can.
"In this life, you will have trouble,"1 Jesus said to his disciples. Like the life jacket drill as we pull out of port, we are warned. On this night, the last night before his murder, he told his dearest friends what he really wanted them to remember. Likewise, he gives us a heads-up: once in a while we're going to hit the rocks. This is not good news, but it's no surprise to anyone who's been around a while. What can be surprising is what he says next:
"But take heart! I have overcome the world."2
What does that mean?
I will leave the literal interpretation to learned theologians, but I can tell you what it looked like to be a friend of Jesus the day our ship went down. On that day, and for weeks to come, we were surrounded (and fed, nurtured, and cared for) by our church family. We hurled our furious questions at God every day in the same place we always met him- in the Bible. God's Word assured us we will see Catherine again; the same girl she was, only made perfect. We survived and eventually thrived because we knew what to do in an emergency. It wasn't a matter of expecting the unexpected; it was a matter of accepting the invitation long before we hit the rocks.
Finding our way when the ship turned over was as simple as going to our muster station. Jesus drew the map on our hearts. The captain knows what He's doing.
©2012 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com
1. John 16:33b NIV
2. Ibid.
We've always departed from US ports, where the first order of business is the safety drill. The horn blasts, we cast off, and before the coast is out of sight we dutifully file into our assigned common areas. We grumble and groan as the crew straps us into our life jackets, until the crowd resembles a sea of heads afloat on an orange tide. "Remember your muster station," the head strapper warns. "Come here in case of emergency." I've sometimes wondered what it would really look like: passengers running in every direction, trying to remember where to go. In my wildest dreams I never envisioned the ship turning over, the lights going out, and the crew swimming ashore without me.
But now we've seen the pictures. The passengers must have been terrified: crawling uphill, blind in the dark, fighting the pull of gravity as the water rose around them. Photos show tiny figures rappelling across the belly of the beast, desperate to reach the lifeboats in the sea far below. Even in the movies it's horrifying. I can't imagine how they had the courage to try. But I have experienced the adrenaline-fueled panic of my own surreal disaster.
Last week we observed the anniversary of our daughter's death, the result of a snowmobile accident. Nothing could have prepared us for what we saw in the Emergency Room. Blessedly, her spirit had gone on to Heaven before we saw her body. In my wildest nightmares I never imagined the worst could actually happen, but it did: our ship went down in a matter of minutes. In its place spun a vortex: a cold, silent tide, sucking the warmth from my hands and the blood from my heart. I breathed in the dirt from the ER carpet, lying on my side like the Costa Concordia.
"Expect the unexpected." Insurance companies thrive on helping us prepare for emergencies. For peace of mind we gather under the umbrella of impending doom with like-minded others, sharing the cost to cover the poor slob with the rotten luck to die early. We are ready- just in case. As we set sail into the future we ignore the rocks under the surface as best we can.
"In this life, you will have trouble,"1 Jesus said to his disciples. Like the life jacket drill as we pull out of port, we are warned. On this night, the last night before his murder, he told his dearest friends what he really wanted them to remember. Likewise, he gives us a heads-up: once in a while we're going to hit the rocks. This is not good news, but it's no surprise to anyone who's been around a while. What can be surprising is what he says next:
"But take heart! I have overcome the world."2
What does that mean?
I will leave the literal interpretation to learned theologians, but I can tell you what it looked like to be a friend of Jesus the day our ship went down. On that day, and for weeks to come, we were surrounded (and fed, nurtured, and cared for) by our church family. We hurled our furious questions at God every day in the same place we always met him- in the Bible. God's Word assured us we will see Catherine again; the same girl she was, only made perfect. We survived and eventually thrived because we knew what to do in an emergency. It wasn't a matter of expecting the unexpected; it was a matter of accepting the invitation long before we hit the rocks.
Finding our way when the ship turned over was as simple as going to our muster station. Jesus drew the map on our hearts. The captain knows what He's doing.
©2012 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com
1. John 16:33b NIV
2. Ibid.
Learning to Swim by Trusting the Lifeguard
I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you and watch over you.- Psalm 32:8 NIV
Despite the miserable heat of Florida in July, a cold panic gripped my gut as I balanced over the deep end of the pool. Below me, golden sunlight danced in the depths. The undulating blue would have seemed inviting were it not for my terror of heights. Twelve feet of vertical air stood between me and my Intermediate Swimmer's pin. Weeks of lessons and tests of endurance culminated in this one last obstacle: stepping off the high dive and into thin air.
In the summer of '63 I was seven years old, a child of Miami with a perpetual tan. I never could stand the heat down there. No one had air conditioning in their houses back then, so we kids lived outdoors year-round. Watery dangers lurked everywhere. Sandwiched between the sea and the swamp, we lived on land coaxed out of the Everglades. A network of dangerous canals crisscrossed our neighborhoods to keep our houses from floating away. Learning to swim was not optional. That was fine with me 'til I faced the dreaded drop to the deep.
With kids lined up behind me, I turned and climbed back down the ladder. Shame burned my face as the panic subsided. One by one they leapt from the board, swam to the side, and collected their prize. Their moms met them and hugged them and pinned the awards to their suits. Finally all had jumped, and all had left, save for one patient mom, a petrified child, and the kindest lifeguard who ever lived: Robert.
To me, he was a grown man: tall, strong, unafraid. He was probably all of eighteen. No doubt working his way through his summer vacation, he had spent the morning administering tests with rigid Red Cross requirements. His lunch was waiting, the pool was just about to open to the public, and his job was to flunk me for refusing to leap off the board. Instead, he climbed the ladder with me. Standing together above the abyss, he held my hand and encouraged me to jump with him. He promised me two things: he wouldn't make me, and he wouldn't let anything happen to me.
We stood there a long, long time. He never threatened to leave me, or send me back to Advanced Beginners. He just waited.
Finally, we jumped. And I had been right- it was a long way to the water. Plunging deeply into the heart of the blue, the feeling of panic gave way to relief when I realized my hand was still firmly in his. We kicked our way skyward, came up to the surface, and swam to the side of the pool.
To this day, I remember feeling safe with him, trusting him, and the wave of gratitude that washed over my heart. Almost fifty years later I remember him vividly; I think because he was so like the Savior I eventually came to know. As I stand on the brink of a new year with its possibilities and pitfalls, I stand unafraid because Jesus holds my hand, my heart, and my life. Into the depths of 2012 we plunge!
But if from there you seek the Lord your God, you will find him if you look for him with all your heart and with all your soul- Deuteronomy 4:29 NIV
© 2012 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com.
Despite the miserable heat of Florida in July, a cold panic gripped my gut as I balanced over the deep end of the pool. Below me, golden sunlight danced in the depths. The undulating blue would have seemed inviting were it not for my terror of heights. Twelve feet of vertical air stood between me and my Intermediate Swimmer's pin. Weeks of lessons and tests of endurance culminated in this one last obstacle: stepping off the high dive and into thin air.
In the summer of '63 I was seven years old, a child of Miami with a perpetual tan. I never could stand the heat down there. No one had air conditioning in their houses back then, so we kids lived outdoors year-round. Watery dangers lurked everywhere. Sandwiched between the sea and the swamp, we lived on land coaxed out of the Everglades. A network of dangerous canals crisscrossed our neighborhoods to keep our houses from floating away. Learning to swim was not optional. That was fine with me 'til I faced the dreaded drop to the deep.
With kids lined up behind me, I turned and climbed back down the ladder. Shame burned my face as the panic subsided. One by one they leapt from the board, swam to the side, and collected their prize. Their moms met them and hugged them and pinned the awards to their suits. Finally all had jumped, and all had left, save for one patient mom, a petrified child, and the kindest lifeguard who ever lived: Robert.
To me, he was a grown man: tall, strong, unafraid. He was probably all of eighteen. No doubt working his way through his summer vacation, he had spent the morning administering tests with rigid Red Cross requirements. His lunch was waiting, the pool was just about to open to the public, and his job was to flunk me for refusing to leap off the board. Instead, he climbed the ladder with me. Standing together above the abyss, he held my hand and encouraged me to jump with him. He promised me two things: he wouldn't make me, and he wouldn't let anything happen to me.
We stood there a long, long time. He never threatened to leave me, or send me back to Advanced Beginners. He just waited.
Finally, we jumped. And I had been right- it was a long way to the water. Plunging deeply into the heart of the blue, the feeling of panic gave way to relief when I realized my hand was still firmly in his. We kicked our way skyward, came up to the surface, and swam to the side of the pool.
To this day, I remember feeling safe with him, trusting him, and the wave of gratitude that washed over my heart. Almost fifty years later I remember him vividly; I think because he was so like the Savior I eventually came to know. As I stand on the brink of a new year with its possibilities and pitfalls, I stand unafraid because Jesus holds my hand, my heart, and my life. Into the depths of 2012 we plunge!
But if from there you seek the Lord your God, you will find him if you look for him with all your heart and with all your soul- Deuteronomy 4:29 NIV
© 2012 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com.
Christmas In My Brown Paper Castle
"How blind are men to Heaven's gifts!" -Marcus Annaeus Lucanus, (39-65 AD) De Bello Civili Bk. V, 1. 528
Ripping through paper and tugging on ribbon, my kids were each about three years old when they discovered this basic truth about presents: sometimes the box seems better than the gift inside. For all my thoughtful choices of educational toys and books, their imaginations went wild when faced with cardboard possibilities. They could sail on the sea or fly to the stars! These humble remnants of sacred trees became space capsules and sailing ships, playhouses and forts, fire engines and jets. After a couple weeks of loving abuse the kids lost interest, the boxes collapsed, and I quietly folded them into the trash. The books and toys from Christmas morning looked a lot better in the light of the new year. Cardboard castles kept them happy for a while, but my kids needed more to grow into their lives.
Just before I had kids, soon after Kevin and I were married, I found out that God loved me. The gift changed my life, and certainly the way I viewed Christmas. Ribbons and wrappings of sentimentality tugged at my heartstrings every year as the holidays approached. Carols and bell-ringers and all manner of cheer brought me to tears, and I treasured the package of Christ's love for me. So beautiful was the gift I took great care not to even tear the outer paper, just peeking inside to find His story. But like toddlers exploring their brown paper castles, I could only grow up as fast as I was able. Soon enough, the Lord would invite me to learn what was inside the box.
Decembers came and went, and my kids grew up and into their lives, until a January day when Catherine died. She was my firstborn, my only daughter, now alive only in memories of boxes and castles in our make-believe world. In a murderous rage I ripped the sentimental trappings of my love for Jesus from the plain brown cardboard, tearing open the box to see if there was anything worth keeping from this seemingly useless faith.
Without its brightly-colored paper, the box just seemed old and worn; humble remnants of a sacred tree holding only a story stained with blood. While the Biblical account of Christmas reads familiar and sweet, the life story of Christ is savage and sad. He was a man of sorrows, familiar with suffering (Isaiah 53:3), giving all that He had for the children He loved. In the months, then the years following Catherine's death, I read and raged and searched for comfort, for reason, for an explanation. Like toddlers exploring their brown paper castles, I could only grow up as fast as I was able. But in time, I found the box and the story it held to be my most treasured possession. The story held the answers, and Jesus held me.
Under the tree this year are brightly-colored gifts from Kevin and Jesse, and the Santa hat Catherine wore every year. God has graciously lent us an amazing son, and we are grateful beyond words for the privilege of having raised him. With all my heart I believe the promise of Heaven (John 14:1-4) and that Jesus is holding Catherine close to His heart, and I have finally grown out of my cardboard castle. It kept me happy for a while, but I needed to grow into my life with Him. And the ribbons and wrappings of sentimentality to celebrate the birth of our Savior? I'm always a sucker for a good Christmas story.
Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift! (2 Corinthians 9:15 NIV)
©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com.
Merry Christmas to All!
Ripping through paper and tugging on ribbon, my kids were each about three years old when they discovered this basic truth about presents: sometimes the box seems better than the gift inside. For all my thoughtful choices of educational toys and books, their imaginations went wild when faced with cardboard possibilities. They could sail on the sea or fly to the stars! These humble remnants of sacred trees became space capsules and sailing ships, playhouses and forts, fire engines and jets. After a couple weeks of loving abuse the kids lost interest, the boxes collapsed, and I quietly folded them into the trash. The books and toys from Christmas morning looked a lot better in the light of the new year. Cardboard castles kept them happy for a while, but my kids needed more to grow into their lives.
Just before I had kids, soon after Kevin and I were married, I found out that God loved me. The gift changed my life, and certainly the way I viewed Christmas. Ribbons and wrappings of sentimentality tugged at my heartstrings every year as the holidays approached. Carols and bell-ringers and all manner of cheer brought me to tears, and I treasured the package of Christ's love for me. So beautiful was the gift I took great care not to even tear the outer paper, just peeking inside to find His story. But like toddlers exploring their brown paper castles, I could only grow up as fast as I was able. Soon enough, the Lord would invite me to learn what was inside the box.
Decembers came and went, and my kids grew up and into their lives, until a January day when Catherine died. She was my firstborn, my only daughter, now alive only in memories of boxes and castles in our make-believe world. In a murderous rage I ripped the sentimental trappings of my love for Jesus from the plain brown cardboard, tearing open the box to see if there was anything worth keeping from this seemingly useless faith.
Without its brightly-colored paper, the box just seemed old and worn; humble remnants of a sacred tree holding only a story stained with blood. While the Biblical account of Christmas reads familiar and sweet, the life story of Christ is savage and sad. He was a man of sorrows, familiar with suffering (Isaiah 53:3), giving all that He had for the children He loved. In the months, then the years following Catherine's death, I read and raged and searched for comfort, for reason, for an explanation. Like toddlers exploring their brown paper castles, I could only grow up as fast as I was able. But in time, I found the box and the story it held to be my most treasured possession. The story held the answers, and Jesus held me.
Under the tree this year are brightly-colored gifts from Kevin and Jesse, and the Santa hat Catherine wore every year. God has graciously lent us an amazing son, and we are grateful beyond words for the privilege of having raised him. With all my heart I believe the promise of Heaven (John 14:1-4) and that Jesus is holding Catherine close to His heart, and I have finally grown out of my cardboard castle. It kept me happy for a while, but I needed to grow into my life with Him. And the ribbons and wrappings of sentimentality to celebrate the birth of our Savior? I'm always a sucker for a good Christmas story.
Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift! (2 Corinthians 9:15 NIV)
©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com.
Merry Christmas to All!
Thanks for the Pardon
They've probably arrived in Washington by now, sequestered from the media in a hush-hush location. Born and raised to be the rock stars of their generation, every detail of their lives has come together for this moment. Even their names have been kept secret. These two made the cut from the cream of the crop, but only one will carry on the proud tradition. Only one will strut into the Rose Garden. Only one will come face-to-face with the President.
The other serves as an alternate in case of disaster most fowl. Just for riding along and waiting in the wings (sorry!) he enjoys an all-expense-paid trip to DC. Oh, and his life is spared. He, too, is pardoned. While millions of their feathered friends make the ultimate sacrifice, these two birds grew fat enough and preened well enough to receive this year's presidential pardon. Nice work if you can get it. A pardon is a gift beyond measure.
Kind indulgence or forgiveness of a serious offense? Both fall under the definition of pardon. Of course, the annual National Thanksgiving Turkey Celebration, a White House event since 1947, is little more than an American anecdote. Last year President Obama joked that this tradition is "one of the most important duties I carry out as President." We Americans love to root for the underdog, until it's time to eat him. Pardon schmardon, pass the drumsticks, please.
Compared to the God of the Universe, we're probably not much smarter than turkeys; however, He made us in His own image. He gave us the ability to understand our need for a reprieve from the selfishness we are born with. Unlike one or two special birds, chosen from a flock and the rest be damned, each of us is loved by God with a passion that flows through His very heart. In the apostle Paul's first letter to Timothy, he says "This is good and pleases God our Savior, who wants all men to be saved, and to come to a knowledge of the truth." (1 Timothy 2:3-4 NIV) The truth is that our pardon is no kind indulgence, no American anecdote, no warm, fuzzy feeling dressed up for the holidays. Our pardon is forgiveness for all our offenses; a ransom for the redemption of our souls through the blood of Jesus Christ. It just doesn't get any better than this.
Last year's turkey duo, Apple and Cider, are living out their retirement at the historically preserved Mount Vernon Estate and Gardens, former home of George Washington. This year's winners will join them in gobbling around the Virginia countryside. Prior birds presided as Grand Marshals of the Disneyland Thanksgiving Parade. Again, nice work if you can get it. But we who have accepted the pardon granted by God Himself look forward to our everlasting home, safe in the arms of the One who loves us most. No special privilege required; just believe, ask, and receive. Nice work, done on our behalf. Indeed.
© 2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
For more information on the love of Jesus, please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com
The other serves as an alternate in case of disaster most fowl. Just for riding along and waiting in the wings (sorry!) he enjoys an all-expense-paid trip to DC. Oh, and his life is spared. He, too, is pardoned. While millions of their feathered friends make the ultimate sacrifice, these two birds grew fat enough and preened well enough to receive this year's presidential pardon. Nice work if you can get it. A pardon is a gift beyond measure.
Kind indulgence or forgiveness of a serious offense? Both fall under the definition of pardon. Of course, the annual National Thanksgiving Turkey Celebration, a White House event since 1947, is little more than an American anecdote. Last year President Obama joked that this tradition is "one of the most important duties I carry out as President." We Americans love to root for the underdog, until it's time to eat him. Pardon schmardon, pass the drumsticks, please.
Compared to the God of the Universe, we're probably not much smarter than turkeys; however, He made us in His own image. He gave us the ability to understand our need for a reprieve from the selfishness we are born with. Unlike one or two special birds, chosen from a flock and the rest be damned, each of us is loved by God with a passion that flows through His very heart. In the apostle Paul's first letter to Timothy, he says "This is good and pleases God our Savior, who wants all men to be saved, and to come to a knowledge of the truth." (1 Timothy 2:3-4 NIV) The truth is that our pardon is no kind indulgence, no American anecdote, no warm, fuzzy feeling dressed up for the holidays. Our pardon is forgiveness for all our offenses; a ransom for the redemption of our souls through the blood of Jesus Christ. It just doesn't get any better than this.
Last year's turkey duo, Apple and Cider, are living out their retirement at the historically preserved Mount Vernon Estate and Gardens, former home of George Washington. This year's winners will join them in gobbling around the Virginia countryside. Prior birds presided as Grand Marshals of the Disneyland Thanksgiving Parade. Again, nice work if you can get it. But we who have accepted the pardon granted by God Himself look forward to our everlasting home, safe in the arms of the One who loves us most. No special privilege required; just believe, ask, and receive. Nice work, done on our behalf. Indeed.
© 2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
For more information on the love of Jesus, please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com
Waiting For the Sun to Come Out
When darkness veils His lovely face I rest on His unchanging grace...
Sometimes, when we least expect it, dark clouds roll in from the sea. Thunderheads form along the horizon and the rain sweeps ashore before lunch. We grab our stuff and run for cover, duck into the car, and watch the windows steam up.
Do we give up hope for a day at the beach, or wait for the sun to come out?
Sometimes in life, when we least expect it, troubles roll in on the wind. The forecast may have called for fair skies but the dark cloud of recession blew in, or our health gave out, or a child went astray. Fill in the blank with your own thunderhead. The question becomes: Do we give up hope, or wait for the sun to come out? And what shall we do while we wait?
Seven months have passed since my last rained-out beach day; at long last, I feel like the worst is over. At first I cowered in the car as lightning flashed and thunder roared. The windows fogged up, which was fine with me; I locked the doors and hid under my blanket. But when I finally had to decide whether to breathe or not to breathe, I rolled down the windows and let the tempest blow through. Unexpectedly, but just as He promised, God came in with the weather. He was all I could see at the height of the storm, but He brought all I needed to survive:
Some people to care for
His Word to sustain me
The love of my family
The support of my friends
Now that the downpour has slowed to a drizzle, I step out into air freshened by the rain. The wind is gentle, the sea calm. Down the coast, sunlight shines on a distant shore.
...In every high and stormy gale my anchor holds within the veil
On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand
All other ground is sinking sand.*
© 2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications, LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com
*The Solid Rock/Composer William B. Bradbury, Author Edward Mote
Sometimes, when we least expect it, dark clouds roll in from the sea. Thunderheads form along the horizon and the rain sweeps ashore before lunch. We grab our stuff and run for cover, duck into the car, and watch the windows steam up.
Do we give up hope for a day at the beach, or wait for the sun to come out?
Sometimes in life, when we least expect it, troubles roll in on the wind. The forecast may have called for fair skies but the dark cloud of recession blew in, or our health gave out, or a child went astray. Fill in the blank with your own thunderhead. The question becomes: Do we give up hope, or wait for the sun to come out? And what shall we do while we wait?
Seven months have passed since my last rained-out beach day; at long last, I feel like the worst is over. At first I cowered in the car as lightning flashed and thunder roared. The windows fogged up, which was fine with me; I locked the doors and hid under my blanket. But when I finally had to decide whether to breathe or not to breathe, I rolled down the windows and let the tempest blow through. Unexpectedly, but just as He promised, God came in with the weather. He was all I could see at the height of the storm, but He brought all I needed to survive:
Some people to care for
His Word to sustain me
The love of my family
The support of my friends
Now that the downpour has slowed to a drizzle, I step out into air freshened by the rain. The wind is gentle, the sea calm. Down the coast, sunlight shines on a distant shore.
...In every high and stormy gale my anchor holds within the veil
On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand
All other ground is sinking sand.*
© 2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications, LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com
*The Solid Rock/Composer William B. Bradbury, Author Edward Mote
God's Waiting For Me in Customs
The Waiting Place
...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
-Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You'll Go! *
Customs! Dang it! I thought I had allowed plenty of time to change planes in Newark, but we left Grand Cayman two hours behind schedule. I figured we could still make our connection if we ran for the gate, but I forgot we had to collect our bags and go through Customs first. By the time we received the official okey-dokey, our flight to Denver had disappeared into the starry night. We learned a lot about waiting in the next couple of days. Rebooking over spring break is murder.
Delays are just part of the travel experience, so I pack for every contingency. I can live out of my carry-on bag for days. I never leave home without a credit card and a cell phone. Last on my list (but no less important) is my strategy for waiting in those long, long lines. I just tell myself, "I will not be here forever. I am probably not going to die standing in this line" which has worked up 'til now. As I pick up steam in life's downhill descent, this rationale may fail. The only upside is this: should I pass away waiting to be rebooked, the airline really ought to ship me home for free.
I can tell a lot about people by watching them wait in line, the place no one wants to be. We plan our trips and our lives for maximum efficiency and minimal hassle. We stand secure as masters of our fate...until an obstacle arises. All it takes is one mechanical failure, a canceled flight, or a distant storm to throw our plans out the window and our nerves into a tizzy. The hassles of travel reflect the obstacles of life, and both raise the question:
How well do we wait?
The Bible has a lot to say about waiting. The Old Testament bears witness to one conflict after another. The wicked attacked, the righteous cried out, and God's usual response was, "wait for Me to make things right." In addition, the Lord frequently called average people to world-changing assignments, although He usually failed to mention that decades would pass before His purposes would be accomplished.
In the face of crushing obstacles- enemies at their backs, mountains in their paths- the faithful would groan (as I have also been known to do):
"How long, O Lord? How long?"
As our now-famous heroes of the faith (see Hebrews chapter 11) wandered in deserts and languished in prisons, surely they sometimes wondered: Did I hear God wrong? Has He forgotten about me? Should I have done something differently? What's taking so long? In reading their stories we learn of their pain. But these beloved accounts of God's chosen people were left to encourage us, reminding us that God is always in control. He rescues His people in His way, in His time.
I never thought I'd miss the hassles of air travel until we slashed our vacation budget in favor of paying the mortgage. Now I do my waiting at home. It's cheaper, cleaner, with better food and a comfy bed. I still bristle at injustice and stumble over obstacles as I travel the route He's laid out for me. At times I wonder: Did I hear Him wrong? Should I have done something differently? But when all the planes are grounded, I just have to settle down. Instead of my carry-on bag I reach for my Bible. I never leave home without praying. And my strategy for standing in this long, long line? Well you know- I am going to die in this line, but that's okay. God's waiting for me in Customs.
Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. -Psalm 27:14 NIV
© 2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com
*Oh, the Places You'll Go! TM & © by Dr. Seuss Enterprises, L.P.
...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.
-Dr. Seuss, Oh, the Places You'll Go! *
Customs! Dang it! I thought I had allowed plenty of time to change planes in Newark, but we left Grand Cayman two hours behind schedule. I figured we could still make our connection if we ran for the gate, but I forgot we had to collect our bags and go through Customs first. By the time we received the official okey-dokey, our flight to Denver had disappeared into the starry night. We learned a lot about waiting in the next couple of days. Rebooking over spring break is murder.
Delays are just part of the travel experience, so I pack for every contingency. I can live out of my carry-on bag for days. I never leave home without a credit card and a cell phone. Last on my list (but no less important) is my strategy for waiting in those long, long lines. I just tell myself, "I will not be here forever. I am probably not going to die standing in this line" which has worked up 'til now. As I pick up steam in life's downhill descent, this rationale may fail. The only upside is this: should I pass away waiting to be rebooked, the airline really ought to ship me home for free.
I can tell a lot about people by watching them wait in line, the place no one wants to be. We plan our trips and our lives for maximum efficiency and minimal hassle. We stand secure as masters of our fate...until an obstacle arises. All it takes is one mechanical failure, a canceled flight, or a distant storm to throw our plans out the window and our nerves into a tizzy. The hassles of travel reflect the obstacles of life, and both raise the question:
How well do we wait?
The Bible has a lot to say about waiting. The Old Testament bears witness to one conflict after another. The wicked attacked, the righteous cried out, and God's usual response was, "wait for Me to make things right." In addition, the Lord frequently called average people to world-changing assignments, although He usually failed to mention that decades would pass before His purposes would be accomplished.
In the face of crushing obstacles- enemies at their backs, mountains in their paths- the faithful would groan (as I have also been known to do):
"How long, O Lord? How long?"
As our now-famous heroes of the faith (see Hebrews chapter 11) wandered in deserts and languished in prisons, surely they sometimes wondered: Did I hear God wrong? Has He forgotten about me? Should I have done something differently? What's taking so long? In reading their stories we learn of their pain. But these beloved accounts of God's chosen people were left to encourage us, reminding us that God is always in control. He rescues His people in His way, in His time.
I never thought I'd miss the hassles of air travel until we slashed our vacation budget in favor of paying the mortgage. Now I do my waiting at home. It's cheaper, cleaner, with better food and a comfy bed. I still bristle at injustice and stumble over obstacles as I travel the route He's laid out for me. At times I wonder: Did I hear Him wrong? Should I have done something differently? But when all the planes are grounded, I just have to settle down. Instead of my carry-on bag I reach for my Bible. I never leave home without praying. And my strategy for standing in this long, long line? Well you know- I am going to die in this line, but that's okay. God's waiting for me in Customs.
Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. -Psalm 27:14 NIV
© 2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com
*Oh, the Places You'll Go! TM & © by Dr. Seuss Enterprises, L.P.
Rising to the Occasion and Going One Step Beyond
"My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends."- Jesus Christ (John 15:12-13 NIV)
September 10, 2011
Ten years ago we were glued to our televisions as we watched the Twin Towers fall and the Pentagon burn. We recoiled in horror as we imagined the fight in the cockpit of United Flight 93 over Shanksville, Pennsylvania. Our heroes were the firefighters and first responders at The World Trade Center, the passengers and flight crews who put up a fight, and the selfless souls who gave up their lives so others might live. The day that rocked our world defined drama and destiny; a real-life reenactment of the battle between good and evil, where brave souls wearing the face of Jesus lay down their lives to save strangers. The fury of hate was foiled by the face of love.
I've been watching television coverage of this solemn anniversary, and to the families of the fallen, I extend my sincerest condolences and grateful thanks. In no way do I wish to minimize the sacrifices made or the losses suffered. But I ask that we remember that as children of God, we too are called into battle every day. Our enemy masquerades as an angel of light (2 Corinthians 11:14) just as the terrorist strives to blend in with his target. He "prowls around, looking for someone to devour." (1 Peter 5:8 NIV) Like the terrorist, he uses fear and intimidation to accomplish his purposes, striking when we least expect him in ways we could hardly imagine. If we read our Bible we know the enemy is out there and he hates us. We are fools if we ignore the danger. How, then, should we live?
The Department of Homeland Security works on our behalf to protect us from the terrorist threat. We take off our shoes at the airport, remove the scissors from our carry-on bags and submit to X-rays just to enter our government buildings. Nobody likes it but we put on our big-boy pants and act like grownups. That's the price we pay to keep from getting blown up. Likewise, God gave us weapons to use in the war against Satan. Refusing to acknowledge we're at war or assuming someone else will fight the battle for us is lazy, childish, and not particularly smart. If we're not willing to rise to the occasion and use the tools He gave us, we can't blame God when the devil finds a foothold and shakes the ground beneath our feet.
Our arsenal comes complete and can be found, item by item, in Ephesians 6:10-18. The firefighters who climbed the stairs at The World Trade Center each carried 110 pounds of equipment as they sweated their way up floor by floor. All we have to do is fall to our knees every morning and put on the armor of God. So we suit up and show up for war, understanding the one thing the firefighters must also have known:
Sometimes we lose the battle.
"Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand." (Ephesians 6:13 NIV) Sometimes all that's left is a burned battlefield and one lone soldier silhouetted against a ragged sky. That's what Ground Zero looked like after the towers fell. For all their courage and all their efforts, the buildings fell and people died. But because of their courage, and because of their efforts, many people lived. The firefighters did not die in vain, nor did the passengers of Flight 93; neither are our efforts for naught. We may lose the battle, but God will not lose the war. He will use our suffering for our good and His glory. To this end, He calls us to live one step beyond our own self-protection.
In the last verse in our list of armor, Paul writes, "And pray in the Spirit on all occasions, with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep praying for all the saints." (Ephesians 6:18 NIV) The firefighters carried a backbreaking load of equipment not only to protect themselves, but to save those in danger. Likewise, we are responsible not only to pray for ourselves and our own protection, but to pray God's armor over our loved ones, our friends, and our leaders. "My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." -Jesus Christ (John 15:12-13 NIV) Laying down our lives can be as simple as five minutes of prayer every morning for those in the line of fire, and those already under attack. It's time to put on our big-boy pants and stand up for those who can't stand up for themselves. It was the signature of the 9/11 heroes; it should also be God's signature, written on us.
The fury of hate can only be foiled by the face of love. Alone, we are sitting ducks for the enemy abroad as well as the enemy within. But we are not alone. Let us put on our armor and join forces with others in prayer. Let us, as Jesus commands, lay down our lives (at least five minutes a day) for our communities, our troops, and our leaders. Let us remember the heroes who gave their own lives, as well as our Hero, who gave His for ours. Let us remember 9/11, and take up our weapons in the battle of good versus evil. We have a job to do.
©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com
September 10, 2011
Ten years ago we were glued to our televisions as we watched the Twin Towers fall and the Pentagon burn. We recoiled in horror as we imagined the fight in the cockpit of United Flight 93 over Shanksville, Pennsylvania. Our heroes were the firefighters and first responders at The World Trade Center, the passengers and flight crews who put up a fight, and the selfless souls who gave up their lives so others might live. The day that rocked our world defined drama and destiny; a real-life reenactment of the battle between good and evil, where brave souls wearing the face of Jesus lay down their lives to save strangers. The fury of hate was foiled by the face of love.
I've been watching television coverage of this solemn anniversary, and to the families of the fallen, I extend my sincerest condolences and grateful thanks. In no way do I wish to minimize the sacrifices made or the losses suffered. But I ask that we remember that as children of God, we too are called into battle every day. Our enemy masquerades as an angel of light (2 Corinthians 11:14) just as the terrorist strives to blend in with his target. He "prowls around, looking for someone to devour." (1 Peter 5:8 NIV) Like the terrorist, he uses fear and intimidation to accomplish his purposes, striking when we least expect him in ways we could hardly imagine. If we read our Bible we know the enemy is out there and he hates us. We are fools if we ignore the danger. How, then, should we live?
The Department of Homeland Security works on our behalf to protect us from the terrorist threat. We take off our shoes at the airport, remove the scissors from our carry-on bags and submit to X-rays just to enter our government buildings. Nobody likes it but we put on our big-boy pants and act like grownups. That's the price we pay to keep from getting blown up. Likewise, God gave us weapons to use in the war against Satan. Refusing to acknowledge we're at war or assuming someone else will fight the battle for us is lazy, childish, and not particularly smart. If we're not willing to rise to the occasion and use the tools He gave us, we can't blame God when the devil finds a foothold and shakes the ground beneath our feet.
Our arsenal comes complete and can be found, item by item, in Ephesians 6:10-18. The firefighters who climbed the stairs at The World Trade Center each carried 110 pounds of equipment as they sweated their way up floor by floor. All we have to do is fall to our knees every morning and put on the armor of God. So we suit up and show up for war, understanding the one thing the firefighters must also have known:
Sometimes we lose the battle.
"Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand." (Ephesians 6:13 NIV) Sometimes all that's left is a burned battlefield and one lone soldier silhouetted against a ragged sky. That's what Ground Zero looked like after the towers fell. For all their courage and all their efforts, the buildings fell and people died. But because of their courage, and because of their efforts, many people lived. The firefighters did not die in vain, nor did the passengers of Flight 93; neither are our efforts for naught. We may lose the battle, but God will not lose the war. He will use our suffering for our good and His glory. To this end, He calls us to live one step beyond our own self-protection.
In the last verse in our list of armor, Paul writes, "And pray in the Spirit on all occasions, with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep praying for all the saints." (Ephesians 6:18 NIV) The firefighters carried a backbreaking load of equipment not only to protect themselves, but to save those in danger. Likewise, we are responsible not only to pray for ourselves and our own protection, but to pray God's armor over our loved ones, our friends, and our leaders. "My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." -Jesus Christ (John 15:12-13 NIV) Laying down our lives can be as simple as five minutes of prayer every morning for those in the line of fire, and those already under attack. It's time to put on our big-boy pants and stand up for those who can't stand up for themselves. It was the signature of the 9/11 heroes; it should also be God's signature, written on us.
The fury of hate can only be foiled by the face of love. Alone, we are sitting ducks for the enemy abroad as well as the enemy within. But we are not alone. Let us put on our armor and join forces with others in prayer. Let us, as Jesus commands, lay down our lives (at least five minutes a day) for our communities, our troops, and our leaders. Let us remember the heroes who gave their own lives, as well as our Hero, who gave His for ours. Let us remember 9/11, and take up our weapons in the battle of good versus evil. We have a job to do.
©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com
Knowing Which Mountain to Climb
*Knowing Which Mountain to Climb is the fifth installment in The Serenity Prayer Series.
God
Grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference.
When I was twenty-something, then thirty-something, and finally sneaking into my forty-somethings, I thought I could climb every mountain my friends could. After all, nothing was physically wrong with me, and I could hike 5-6 miles at a stretch, maybe three or four times every summer.
Then, I naively accepted an invitation to hike from Aspen to Crested Butte, Colorado with a group of women in recovery. We took the 'long route'- fourteen miles- because it was supposedly easier. The super-athletes in the group made it in eight hours, arriving about four in the afternoon. More trickled into town as the sun sank lower in the west. Finally, my desperate foursome wandered in long after dark, exhausted like we'd each given birth to triplets. Some people are born athletes and some aren't, and that day God gave me the wisdom to know the difference.
Webster's defines wisdom as "the knowledge of what is true or right, coupled with just judgment as to action." * I wish that I could say that now, in my fifty-somethings, I can easily discern the difference between the things I can change and those I cannot. But truth be told, my perceptions of events, circumstances, and people naturally filter through my own self-interests. It's always me first. How does this affect me? What should I do about this? That's why the Serenity Prayer is, for me, an indispensable tool in seeking peace of mind and heart. I can ask God for help.
The New International Version of the Bible mentions wisdom over two hundred times, but this verse from James is my all-time favorite:
If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does. -James 1:5-8
Every time I've asked, I've received. Sometimes I have to wait a while, and sometimes I don't like what I hear. But eventually an answer will waft my way, suggesting a solution that works for everyone's good and God's glory: that's how I know it's from Him. As far as obtaining the power to carry it out- that's a blog post for another day.
All the courage in the world can't change the fact that I'm not a born athlete. Last week a friend dropped by with her twenty-something daughter and casually mentioned their plans to summit a 14'er this weekend. That means a mountain over fourteen thousand feet high. Even trees can't breathe up there. I expressed my heartfelt admiration and wished them well, knowing my days above timberline are over. I still hike, but now I'm very selective about which mountains I climb. Thank God for the wisdom to know the difference!
©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com for more information on recovery and the awesome love of God.
*Webster's New Universal Unabridged Dictionary ©1996 by Random House Value Publishing, Inc.
God
Grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference.
When I was twenty-something, then thirty-something, and finally sneaking into my forty-somethings, I thought I could climb every mountain my friends could. After all, nothing was physically wrong with me, and I could hike 5-6 miles at a stretch, maybe three or four times every summer.
Then, I naively accepted an invitation to hike from Aspen to Crested Butte, Colorado with a group of women in recovery. We took the 'long route'- fourteen miles- because it was supposedly easier. The super-athletes in the group made it in eight hours, arriving about four in the afternoon. More trickled into town as the sun sank lower in the west. Finally, my desperate foursome wandered in long after dark, exhausted like we'd each given birth to triplets. Some people are born athletes and some aren't, and that day God gave me the wisdom to know the difference.
Webster's defines wisdom as "the knowledge of what is true or right, coupled with just judgment as to action." * I wish that I could say that now, in my fifty-somethings, I can easily discern the difference between the things I can change and those I cannot. But truth be told, my perceptions of events, circumstances, and people naturally filter through my own self-interests. It's always me first. How does this affect me? What should I do about this? That's why the Serenity Prayer is, for me, an indispensable tool in seeking peace of mind and heart. I can ask God for help.
The New International Version of the Bible mentions wisdom over two hundred times, but this verse from James is my all-time favorite:
If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him. But when he asks, he must believe and not doubt, because he who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That man should not think he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all he does. -James 1:5-8
Every time I've asked, I've received. Sometimes I have to wait a while, and sometimes I don't like what I hear. But eventually an answer will waft my way, suggesting a solution that works for everyone's good and God's glory: that's how I know it's from Him. As far as obtaining the power to carry it out- that's a blog post for another day.
All the courage in the world can't change the fact that I'm not a born athlete. Last week a friend dropped by with her twenty-something daughter and casually mentioned their plans to summit a 14'er this weekend. That means a mountain over fourteen thousand feet high. Even trees can't breathe up there. I expressed my heartfelt admiration and wished them well, knowing my days above timberline are over. I still hike, but now I'm very selective about which mountains I climb. Thank God for the wisdom to know the difference!
©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.
Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com for more information on recovery and the awesome love of God.
*Webster's New Universal Unabridged Dictionary ©1996 by Random House Value Publishing, Inc.