Watching From The Waterline

Finding Our Way When the Boat Turned Over

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 23:52:29 GMT

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.

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Learning to Swim by Trusting the Lifeguard

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Thu, 05 Jan 2012 23:54:49 GMT

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.

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Christmas In My Brown Paper Castle

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Fri, 23 Dec 2011 21:49:49 GMT

"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!

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Thanks for the Pardon

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Tue, 22 Nov 2011 01:39:30 GMT

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

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Waiting For the Sun to Come Out

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Fri, 04 Nov 2011 18:33:23 GMT

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

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

God's Waiting For Me in Customs

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 22:48:36 GMT

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.

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Rising to the Occasion and Going One Step Beyond

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Sat, 10 Sep 2011 22:26:09 GMT

"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

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Knowing Which Mountain to Climb

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Sat, 20 Aug 2011 23:12:42 GMT

*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.

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Courage for the Uphill Climb

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Thu, 11 Aug 2011 22:57:34 GMT

*Courage for the Uphill Climb is the fourth 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

The UPS guy didn't like my dog Max, and I didn't blame him. Part Shepherd, part Rottweiler, no one even dared approach me when Max was by my side. Our hearts broke when he died last year. All that's left of him are our precious memories, a few photos, and a mile-long scar rounding the outside bend of my left elbow.

No, he didn't bite me. He merely did what dogs do, leaving a half-eaten rawhide bone on the stairs. Being the same color as the oak floor, I never saw it: I just stepped on it. My foot went flying out from under me, and I sailed elbow-first down into the living room. The blow shattered the joint and changed my life forever. In the weeks following reconstructive surgery I simply accepted the doctor's forecast of permanent disability; he predicted pain and very limited mobility forever. But as time went on I decided I wasn't ready to be a one-armed wonder, so I sought a second opinion. Our family chiropractor responded to the surgeon's prognosis with a resounding, "Nonsense!" He gave me a sheet of exercise instructions, a couple of resistance bands, and the hope that someday my arm would be strong again.

Four years later I can see they were both right. It always hurts and it's weaker than my other arm. However, the pain is manageable and I have far better function than I would have had without exercise. "To accept the things I cannot change" is a basic tenet of the Serenity Prayer and a step along the pathway to peace, but I must be certain that a thing cannot be changed- and if it can, I must summon the courage to change it.

I am a Christian saved by grace and an alcoholic/addict saved by recovery, miraculously blessed to live in the best of both worlds. Parts of my heart and soul are still broken, and will be until the day I go home to Heaven. For the things I cannot change, I ask for serenity and peace. For the things I can change, I pray for the courage to try. Better than an exercise band with a photocopied sheet of instructions, my Lord beckons me with these words:

"Take courage! It is I. Don't be afraid."- Jesus Christ (Matthew 14:27 NIV)

What does it look like: to "take courage?" In this case, it is my weakness surrendering to His strength. As I go about my day-to-day life, I picture Jesus holding my right hand. Because it's attached to the arm that doesn't hurt, I can pretty much wander the path while staying reasonably close to His side. But when I'm frightened I grab His hand with my broken arm- the one with little strength, the one that hurts all the time. Why?

To be led by that arm I must completely surrender; it has virtually no strength of its own. In addition, any movement away from the One who holds me results in significant pain in my elbow. I must trust Him not to hurt me, or lead me where I shouldn't go. Never has trusting Jesus led me astray. With His help I've found the courage to change the things I can, one day at a time.

I felt pretty brave with my dog Max until the day a bear snuck up behind us. He let out a little whimper just before he left me in his dust. I happen to know Jesus ain't afraid of no bear, or any other fear that can come my way.

"It is I. Don't be afraid."

"It isn't for the moment you are stuck that you need courage, but for the long uphill climb back to sanity and faith and security."- Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Acceptance and Wide Open Spaces

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Wed, 03 Aug 2011 00:25:49 GMT

*Acceptance and Wide Open Spaces is the third installment in The Serenity Prayer Series.

God
Grant me the serenity

To accept the things I cannot change.

Three years ago my mother wrote me out of her will and gave all her legal rights to a man who wiped out her savings, sold her home, and took the money. Because she was still of sound mind I had no recourse. Now she's dead broke and demented, living on government assistance in a surprisingly good nursing home. For thirty years I flew back and forth to Florida, bringing the grandkids to visit and taking us all to the shore. Through surgeries and rehab and the deaths of my father and stepdad I was there. I jumped through hoop after hoop to get her what she needed, and if she had only listened to me, she'd be closer and safer, not far away and scared. I prayed I'd be able to help care for her in her old age, but I'm financially unable to assist and legally powerless over her circumstances.

Why do things seem to work out so badly sometimes, even when we pray?

I don't know. Jesus himself said, "In this life, you will have trouble." (John 16:33a NIV) That guy could tell it like it was, and like it still is. I just know it stinks when the bad guys win and the good guys lose, and there's nothing we can do to change it. Like the home team's loss after the ump's crummy call, we kick the dirt and grumble before turning out the lights and driving away.

Accepting the things I cannot change. What does that really mean? Is it simply resignation, or perhaps something more?

The skunk who ruined our family party cut me out of the loop, but the Lord intervened through a mutual friend who kept me updated on my mother's situation. Considerable research revealed the cad had squandered every last cent, while retaining power of attorney. Prayer was my only recourse; acceptance brought my only peace. Every day I envisioned myself walking my mother and the ne'er-do-well to the Throne, letting go of their hands, and giving them over to God. I asked that He would keep my mother from living on the street. He did. I am still asking Him to heal the cad.

Accepting the things I cannot change not only frees my soul but gives God room to move in His mysterious ways, according to His unfailing love.

"Acceptance says, 'True, this is my situation at the moment. I'll look unblinkingly at the reality of it. But I'll also open my hand to accept willingly whatever a loving Father sends me."- Catherine Marshall, American author (1916-1983)

Originally I had hoped to move my mother into an assisted living facility close to my home, but God did not answer my prayer in the way I expected. However, against all odds, she is in good hands. I'm slowly learning that acceptance is a spacious place where God lives and works, even wider than the western Colorado sky. It still stinks when the bad guys win and the good guys lose; it always has, and it always will, until Christ comes again. Perhaps that's why the apostle Paul wrote these words to the church at Philippi; words to comfort believers then and now:

Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!
Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, and with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.
And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:4-7 NIV)

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for accepting the hurt and worry I bring to the Throne; for answering my prayers in ways that work for my good and your glory. Help me trust that You will make all things right, in Your time. Amen!

©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

The Search For Serenity

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Thu, 21 Jul 2011 21:42:16 GMT

*The Search for Serenity is the second installment in The Serenity Prayer Series.

"God, grant me the serenity..."

When my knees were younger, I played tennis. Not well, or often, but I enjoyed running around the court and whacking the ball over the net. Once, in the midst of a rally, a bee stung me on the ankle. Hours later, an allergy I didn't know I had launched an all-out assault of hives, accompanied by a relentless itch deep within each joint of my body. The hives were unnerving but the itching almost drove me to the edge. Because I was young and stupid, it didn't occur to me to go to the doctor. The symptoms came and went for a week, leaving me miserable in my own skin. Had I known Benadryl would ease my suffering, I'd have been popping those little pink pills faster than Serena Williams can serve. I was too dumb to seek relief from my pain.

The naivete I displayed in ignoring a systemic allergic reaction was unfortunately similar to how clueless I was in dealing with emotional pain. As the oldest child in a family beset by mental illness, the others bounced off me like a trampoline. My bipolar father had survived Nazi captivity but eventually descended into madness, venting his fury on my brothers and me. My mother worked constantly. She kept us fed, clothed, and housed while I juggled housework, childcare, and school. The responsibilities were staggering but the violence pushed me to the edge. I was miserable in my own skin until the day I found marijuana. I was fifteen. For the first time, my soul stopped screaming. Finally, I had found relief from my pain.

Serenity: the opposite of emotional pain; the state of being calm, peaceful, tranquil. We seek it, pursue it, crave it. Some of us drink or drug to find it; some run or exercise for the high. In the sweet buy-and-buy we shop for clothes we don't need and cars we can't afford. Most of these pursuits are not sinful in and of themselves, but they are no substitute for the peace of God. But why invest time and effort in getting to know the Almighty when we can feel better (faster) with a quick trip to the liquor store, the gym, or the mall?

Because: Every earthly pursuit exacts a price. Every addict knows the depression of coming down; every alcoholic faces the morning after. Clothes fade, cars depreciate, and the bills stack up at the end of the month. While physical endeavors are good for the body and soul, they can't take the place of relationship with God; even the strongest knees give out eventually. We are left squirming in our pain with nowhere to go, unless we know we can go to the Lord.

I drank and drugged because substance abuse eased the pain, at least until I sobered up. Those habits led to alcoholism and addiction, the bottomless pit of despair. Sitting in church I pleaded with God to miraculously deliver me. Instead, He introduced me to people who taught me this prayer as part of how to live in the light. From Day One of recovery, God has continually answered my pleas for serenity. I have learned to live comfortably in my own skin, in spite of what happened before, in light of what I've done since, and in anticipation of whatever would come in the future. Never once has the Lord denied me serenity when I further surrendered to these terms:

To accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference.

When my heart was younger, it broke every time my father beat us, especially the vicious attacks on my brother Matthew (may God rest his soul). It broke every time I tried to quit drinking, only to pick up again. In a thousand failures from my life in addiction to the simpler failures of life in sobriety, I've found only one answer that brings healing to my heart and serenity to my soul: the endless, timeless love of God through forgiveness in Jesus Christ. Thank you, Lord. To God be the glory forever and ever, Amen!

©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

For more information on addiction recovery through faith in God, please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com/

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

The Exclamation Point of Surrender

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Fri, 08 Jul 2011 00:40:41 GMT

*The Exclamation Point of Surrender is the first in The Serenity Prayer Series.

Just
     "God"

Not reverently, like

     "Almighty God"
     "Most High"
     "Creator of Heaven and Earth"
     "I AM WHO I AM"

Not endearingly, like

     "Dear God"
     "My Father"
     "Jesus, My Savior"
     "Oh Lord"

Not claiming a single promise, or fawning in search of favor

     "God, who relents from sending calamity"
     "God, who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine"
     "O compassionate and gracious God."

Just one word. Without the "Dear" or the "O," or any address whatsoever. The speaker prays with urgency. The first word of the Serenity Prayer screams immediacy, with no time for title; no need to clarify the address of the recipient or the qualifications of the sender. No "in reference to," flowery prose, or unnecessary details. God's child needs help, and she needs it now. So the cry goes up from the church basement or the doctor's office or from detox in a crummy part of town. Whether this daughter of the King can't stop drinking, or using, or finds herself in circumstances beyond her ability to endure, this much is certain: she's desperate and knows God can help her.

All my life I believed in the existence of a Supreme Being, but I began to learn about the God of the Bible when I was a young mother many years ago. My mentor pretty much forced me to go to a Bible Study with other young moms, church ladies-in-waiting with babies in tow. I prayed with all the sincerity I could muster, but my petitions consisted mostly of "Oh God, oh God, I'm so sorry. I won't drink again tonight, I swear." And I meant every word of it, until about 5:00 PM. When my hands started shaking I'd reach for the brandy, just to take the edge off while I was cooking dinner. Next thing I knew it was morning and I was sorry, so sorry, I won't do it again, I promise. This included Tuesdays, when I'd pack Catherine up and totter across town to Bible Study.

Now there was this one church lady who was quite open about being a recovering alcoholic. Secretly I watched her live and laugh and love her kids, just like the rest of us. Secretly I was in awe of her. How could she go two days without alcohol, much less the two years I spent observing her? But on a sub-zero Sunday, in an early morning service, God responded to all my apologies with a Voice that thundered through my soul. I went home, poured my brandy down the drain, and called the lady who could laugh and love and make dinner without drinking. She took me to my first AA meeting, and I heard the Serenity Prayer. I've loved it ever since.

Far from being a too-familiar, almost insubordinate way of addressing the Almighty, I believe that the opening word of the Serenity Prayer is the exclamation point of surrender. Our urgency admits we need help, and that help can come from Almighty God alone. In the weeks to come I'll be sharing my experience, strength, and hope through the framework of this famous piece. If you receive this post by email, you can click on the link to visit my blog home. There you will find a copy of the prayer, as well as a very brief history. To God as He is revealed in the face of Jesus Christ- the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, be the glory; for now and evermore. Amen!

©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

For more information on recovery and Jesus, too, visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

The Prayers of My Farewells

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Sat, 25 Jun 2011 00:45:00 GMT

One final trudge up the hill, bearing the sandy trappings of our last day on the beach: chairs and towels, cooler and blanket, boogey boards, books, and a backpack. One last trip in the roasting car, A/C blasting, merging onto the highway. Elbowing our way into line, we joined the throngs of beachgoers headed back to civilization; even more so for us, as our plane would be leaving tonight. My heart said goodbye to Hawaii.

These last ten days had been more than a vacation. The Lord not only granted us respite from the daily grind, but relief and some healing from a heartache back home. Just when I reached the point where I could simply watch the waves break instead of hearing my heart break, it was time to leave. Oh, for a few more days on Kona! But this sacred time will hold a special place with the prayers of my farewells, safe in the arms of God. He's been gathering my sorrows where I left them on the sand like a beachcomber scavenging treasure.

When I was young, the tide was always rushing in. With each swell came fresh opportunities, new responsibilities, and a fullness of life that kept me afloat. Now the tide has turned, slowly pulling back the demands but also the richness of relationships that sprang from community. Once we were all in this together, but the ties that bound us have loosened. We've scattered: to different churches, different towns, different jobs. I've had to let go, not only of friends, but of family members, of my children, and of souls I've met through work and service. Some of these partings were easy; a few were welcomed; but most just tore the hole in my heart a little wider. My only comfort is the assurance that Heaven is coming. For those who know Jesus, the sun will someday rise on a beautiful, distant shore, and all those I love will be there. God will mend all that's tattered and torn; He will wipe away every tear; He will heal every broken heart. Meanwhile, the prayers of my farewells rest safely in His arms.

The sun set over the Pacific as we flew from Kona to Oahu, rising over Asia as our planet welcomed her new day. From Honolulu we flew east through the dark of the night, until dawn broke over the Rockies on our way back into town. It's time for me to welcome my new life in the light of the rising sun. The time for heartache has passed, and I'm ready to face the dawn. As always, and forever: To God be the glory. Amen!

©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

To see my favorite books on Heaven, visit Coconut Mountain Communications Resource Pages

To visit my website for resources and more, visit Friendship With Jesus

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Adrift With a Turtle to Guide Me

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Wed, 15 Jun 2011 00:31:19 GMT

Let heaven and earth praise him,
the seas and all that move in them. -Psalm 69:34 NIV

Kekaha Kai State Park is hard to get to. From the Queen's Highway all you see is lava stretching down to the ocean, save for a distant line of scrubby trees. The sign says the road is semi-paved. Maybe on Mars. Creeping through the lava field, we did come across the occasional memory of pavement between the craters. But we thought we'd beat the crowds in this out-of-the-way destination, and we were right.

Our reward lay beyond the dirt parking lot and through the trees, where a white-sand crescent sidled up to a turquoise bay. Palm trees presided over the north end of this half-moon paradise, and a lava-rock jetty marked the boundary south. We staked out our piece of shade around the halfway point and headed toward the only building in sight. I had hoped it was guest services...

But my hopes were dashed from a distance by a bright yellow ribbon of police tape. Did this mean the restroom was closed? Actually, it meant the restroom was gone. Back in March, the Tohoku-Oki Earthquake spawned the horrific tsunami that swept westward and swallowed the northeast coast of Japan. However, a similar wave swept east. Thankfully, the residents had ample time to evacuate, but the northwest coast of Kona took the brunt of Hawaii's damage. Many buildings along the waterline were gutted, their contents sucked out to sea.

Beyond the building lay a barrier of debris washed ashore by the wave, so Kevin and I turned around and headed back down the beach. As we shuffled through the sand we noticed a sea turtle just a few yards offshore, paralleling our walk. No- make that two turtles. They seemed to follow us until we cut up into the rocks and back to our camp. Settling into our lawn chairs, we kicked back with a couple of cold sodas and watched in astonishment as one of the turtles came ashore and parked himself not far from our feet! Given the events of the day before, this was almost too much to believe.

A snorkel boat had taken us down the coast, anchoring over a coral reef. This particular cove offered not only coral but lava tubes, where the green limu grows. Sea turtles LOVE limu. Kevin swam off toward the colorful fish while I floated face-down, mesmerized by the beauty and grace of the turtle below me. In previous encounters I'd found these creatures to be shy, or at least sick of tourists following them around. But this one seemed to welcome my company, and together we drifted with the current for the better part of an hour. Six seasons snorkeling in Hawaii, and I'd never seen anything like it. I was enchanted, but the magic had only begun.

Back here on the beach, our fellow picnickers so pestered the turtle that he slipped back into the sea. Later, as the shadows lengthened, I walked alone to the rocky point at the southern boundary, looking for a place to pray. So narrow was this spit of land that crashing waves sprayed me with seawater from both sides. So narrow was my path that I couldn't miss them on my left: two turtle heads, bobbing above the surface where the rough water pounded the rocks. I bent over to say hello, and one leaned as close as he could in my direction, working his jaw muscles with his head in the air like he was talking! We were only feet apart. I waved wildly at Kevin on the beach, hoping he would see me, but I was too far out and probably looked like a crazy woman flapping my arms in preparation for takeoff. With no one around to share my joy, I shared my thanks with the One who sent them.

Seven days had passed since we arrived in Kona. The state of my heart then resembled that public building after the tsunami: gutted, surrounded by debris, and cordoned off to prevent further damage. So broken was my heart I considered abandoning the assignment God had given me. "Just tell people what you know about Me." Instead, I climbed up into His lap. He sent sneaky crabs to reassure me of His care, a cast-off book to remind me of His promises, and turtles galore to knock my socks off with His love. Only one more post remains to be written in this series: "A Tale of Two Beaches." When the road holds more pitfalls than pavement, it helps to remember that this life ain't all there is; a distant, glorious shore awaits. Thanks for following along. May God bless and keep you.

The LORD does whatever pleases him, in the heavens and on the earth,
in the seas and all their depths. -Psalm 135:6 NIV

© 2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Special Delivery and Divine Destiny

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Sun, 05 Jun 2011 01:31:00 GMT

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
Your right hand will hold me fast.
-Psalm 139:9-10 NIV

It's big; it's heavy; it's falling apart: three of the four reasons I left my Bible behind when I went on vacation.

The moments I spend reading my Bible are woven into the fabric of my morning. Even this first day out on our trip I missed it, more than I thought I would. I considered using the Bible software on my laptop, but just the image evoked a cold, metallic feeling in my chest. I am accustomed to a cup of coffee in one hand and my heavy, clunky Bible in the other; its pages worn soft by wear, its binding broken by the contours of my lap.

So I listened to the waves wash ashore, inhaled the salty breeze, closed my eyes, and quieted my heart for prayer. Considering I had a cup of freshly-brewed Kona coffee in my hand and a day at the shore ahead of me, I should have been feeling pretty good. Thank the Lord for the day, ask for protection, please remember Jesse, blah blah blah.

Instead I felt lost. So I asked Him to send help.

It's not that God gives me specific direction from the Word at the beginning of each day. It's just that He's there. I meet Him every morning, and I have for years. This morning I felt like I'd been stood up; oh wait- it was my idea to be left alone. Instead, I was left bereft. And I knew why I had done it.

It had nothing to do with the size, weight, or the condition of my Bible. I had lugged it, or one of its predecessors, on all my previous travels. Instead, while I was suffering from a recent personal blow, a quiet voice whispered that God was fed up with me at the moment. And I believed it. And then I figured, why lug this big heavy message halfway across the Pacific when God didn't want to talk to me anyway?

Sigh. Well, here we are in paradise, Kevin said, let's walk into town before it gets too hot. So we strolled down the main drag into Kailua. High-end vendors hawked expensive trinkets to white-legged tourists while Bubba Gump sang his siren song of shrimp. The bay shone on our left, the shops bustled on our right, and coconut trees swayed in the breeze overhead. I could hardly believe the blessing of being back in Hawaii; still, it didn't take us long to get sick of the noise downtown. Sauntering back to our condo, we wriggled our sweaty bodies into swimsuits and took a cool dip in the pool. No sooner had I plopped my dripping self into a deck chair than a quiet voice whispered, "Go check out their lending library."

The voice could have been mine; could have been God's; I'm a sucker for books anywhere, anytime. As I perused the jumbled assortment left by travelers before me, I found an older, hardback book; no jacket, but the author's familiar name was stamped on the binding: Lucado. Max Lucado? Here? A Christian book among the usual trashy novels is a rare find indeed. Even more surprising, I had never read it. Finally, the subject matter grabbed my attention like police lights in my rear-view mirror.

It was a study of the 23rd Psalm. I have spent months in that passage. Millions of readers over the centuries have claimed for themselves this sacred promise, in times of joy and times of sorrow: "The Lord is my Shepherd."

Now I was not only dripping but dumbstruck as the Truth dispelled the lie. God was not "fed up" with me. God wanted to feed me. I may have heard the enemy's voice and left my Bible behind, but the Jesus who loves me laughed in his face and sent His Word in answer to my prayer. And every morning for the rest of my trip, I sipped Kona coffee and studied with Max before packing the cooler and heading for the beach.

Only God knows whose hands had held these yellowed pages; whose heart had been reassured, whose soul had been saved through this message before it reached me. When my time on Kona drew to a close I left the book behind, praying for the next weary traveler who'd be nourished by the words of David and reminded of the love of God. One simple volume in a jumbled assortment was singled out and delivered to me by divine destiny; all because I asked, and Jesus loves me. Oh, that we all could know that He loves us that much.

To God be the glory! Amen.

©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

The Roar of the Sea and the Whisper of God

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Mon, 30 May 2011 16:30:00 GMT

Mightier than the thunder of the great waters,
mightier than the breakers of the sea-
The Lord on high is mighty.
(Psalm 93:4 NIV)

The roar woke me. I opened my eyes to the silvery shadows of filtered moonlight and the thunder of surf crashing on the rocks below and wondered: is this what God sounds like?

As much as I hate being awake at four in the morning, the deafening roar of the sea was a welcome change from my four AM musings of late. The weapons in my arsenal against sleeplessness were proving no match for the pain of a recent personal debacle. Normally prayer, Scripture, and taking thoughts captive to the obedience of Christ could deliver me from insomnia. Normally owning my part, making amends, and forgiving those who wrong me would bring peace to my soul. But recent events were not normal, and God alone knew the way He would restore me to sanity. He just wasn't telling me yet.

Well, what better time to listen? Out my window, boats anchored in Kailua Harbor bobbed in the moonlight. Salt air wafted through the window. Kevin was dead asleep, and it was just me and God awake in the quiet of the night.

"Lord, I don't know how to get past this. What do You want me to do?"

"Just listen."

"I'm listening. I'm listening! But all I hear is the roar. What do You want me to do?

"I want you to listen until you hear the quiet."

Normally I would have opened my Bible and looked for something a little more concrete. But as I mentioned in an earlier post, I had left it at home. So I lay back against crisp white sheets in a very comfy bed, reveled in the color of moonlight, and listened to the roar of the waves breaking below my window. I didn't even know I'd fallen asleep until the sun woke me in the morning.

What does God sound like, anyway? The story of Elijah in 1 Kings 19 always comes to mind. In my post of May 2 (Battered Baggage and a Pacific Breeze) I quoted Elijah from 1 Kings 19:4: he was terrified, running for his life, and exhausted. The Lord ministered to him through angels who brought him food, water, and the opportunity for rest. Even as he went on his way, he knew he needed more than provision, more than even the ministrations of angels. At God's prompting, Elijah poured out his lament (1 Kings 19:9-10). I love what happened next:

The Lord said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by." Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.

When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"

(1 Kings 19:11-13 NIV)

Elijah recognized God's voice in the sound of a gentle whisper: literally, "the sound of a gentle stillness."

Can you imagine huddling at the mouth of a cave as the forces of nature preceded the presence of God? A wind that can tear mountains apart and shatter rocks would have my heart punching through the wall of my chest. Riding out an earthquake while the rocks crash down around me? Really? I'd be wetting my pants as I hightailed it down the hill. But what Elijah understood, and what I frequently misunderstand, is this: This disaster itself is not the voice of God.

Just like me, Elijah made his share of mistakes. But God never lost sight of him, never gave up on him, and never stopped loving him. Even though he suffered through persecution, disappointment, exhaustion, and terror, Elijah stood firm and listened. He knew God's voice when he heard it. The "sound of a gentle stillness" then told him where to go, what to do, and even how God Himself would work in the situation. Waiting through the roar worked for Elijah. I could only hope it would work for me, too.

©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Sneaky Crabs, Sea Turtles, and the Thunderous Swells of Life

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Thu, 19 May 2011 00:45:00 GMT

Hawaii's Big Island is still in her youth, growing wild and free as lava spews from Kilauea Volcano. All of Hawaii is made of lava; but unlike the older islands, much of Kona's surface is still shiny, sharp, and twisted. Veins of black and brown run down the mountainside for miles, scars of fiery red rivers burning their way to the sea. Greenery eventually sprouts through the scorched earth, as seen in the rainforests on Mauna Loa and the gentle rolling grasslands of Kohala. Though her older sisters appear softer through their jungle greenery, I love this particular island because her story shows on her face; a life still in motion, a portrait still being painted.

Though Kona has her share of postcard-perfect beaches, they lie between vast stretches where only lava meets the sea. Ceaseless waves batter the shoreline home of creatures great and small; a landscape so inhospitable that humans pack their lunches, slather on sunscreen, and race their rental cars north in search of the sandy crescents. No one goes back to the mainland bragging about time spent stubbing their toes on lava. But I found treasures on this gritty gray shore. Critters both creepy and comforting depend on God in this scary place, where crashing waves bring nourishment as well as the danger of dashing them to death.

On my first day in town I sat on the seawall, watching the tide pools below. Something skittered across the rocks, black against black; like a movement you'd see from the corner of your eye. There it was again- things jumping from rock to rock, scrambling just out of sight. My legs dangled below me as I leaned over the side and saw CRABS! Black, skittery crabs leaping everywhere. I hate crabs! I pulled my legs up so fast I almost fell over backwards. Crabs have always freaked me out, since I was a kid growing up in south Florida. These were even worse- they were black and hiding in the rocks just below my feet, jumping out when the waves rolled back. Once my legs were safely tucked beneath me, I watched with amazement God's design for these creepy critters; a design both simple and divine.

Each swell that broke upon the lava seemed to leave something appetizing for these sneaky little jumpers. I never could see what they ate, but after each passing wave they'd rush to the puddles, eat like mad, and skitter back to the shadows. Occasionally one would be washed away, furiously flailing his tiny pincers (ew!) against the tide in a hopeless effort to regain his footing. Only God knows where he ended up. But His care for even these least-appealing creatures was obvious, both in the tide pool snack bar and in their camouflage coloring. The drama was not lost on me. If the God I love takes good care of these cold-blooded rock-dwellers, how much more does He care for me?

Quite a bit, it seems. Beyond the silver spray of the breakers, I saw a little flipper rise above the surface, waving lazily from the next tide pool over. A sea turtle! I love sea turtles! Definitely a step up from crabs. In the course of the next ten days I would have amazing interactions with these creatures, which I will describe in my posts to come. This one paddled around the pool, presumably nosing around for the soft green limu they love to eat. The breakers didn't seem to worry her, and unlike her creepy neighbors, she wasn't in a hurry. Her shell blended perfectly against the mottled black and brown of lava underwater. One thunderous wave rolled in and crashed upon the rocks, sucking the tide pool dry on its way back out to sea. The turtle was gone; off to greener pastures and deeper waters. Her quiet exit seemed to lack the panic of the crab flailing his pincers to regain his footing; she simply went with the tide, going with the flow.

As I've written in recent posts, I arrived on the island spiritually disheveled and emotionally leveled. Sitting on the seawall and communing with the crabs just about reached the level of my expectations as far as hearing from God. And because He loves me, He met me right where I was. Then a turtle raised her flipper, calling my attention outside the rocks; I lifted my eyes to life beyond the impact zone. Yes, I can be the skittery, panicky crab: afraid of the danger and running for my life. But God didn't create me to run from every passing wave. He created me to trust Him. When thunderous swells suck the life from my soul, I can let Him carry me to greener pastures and deeper waters. I can aspire to be like the unperturbed turtle, trusting God in the breakers of life.

I love Kona, the Big Island of Hawaii, because her story shows on her face; a life still in motion, a portrait still being painted. I thank God that mine is, too.

Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.
-Psalm 42:5 NIV

© Rachel Ophoff 2011, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Treasures of Darkness

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Sun, 08 May 2011 18:16:00 GMT

I will give you the treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places,
so that you may know that I am the LORD, the God of Israel, who summons you by name.- Isaiah 45:3 NIV

Their roster reads like a Who's Who of those blessed by God. The authors of this anthology wrote of miraculous healings and divine deliverances; finally I closed the book and tucked it into the seat pocket in front of me. The drone of jet engines drowned out all but my thoughts as I pondered how my relationship with God changed when Catherine died.

In January 2000 our 14-year-old daughter died in an accident. Though our faith certainly sustained us in the moment, the following years erupted with hard questions about the Lord's love, His plan, and ultimately His character. For all her short life we had prayed for her. Her dad and I tried to do the Christian life "right." So why did God say no to our prayers for her safety, while saying yes to other parents in similar situations?

Inspirational stories of those healed and delivered from harm drove me crazy with fury and doubt. For years I simply avoided reading them, and now I wondered why I brought this book on vacation. But as I leaned back in the seat and closed my eyes, I was surprised to realize that reading these stories no longer causes me to doubt God's love. I know God better because Catherine died. The warmth of His love enfolded me as I cuddled up in the airline's blue blanket.

In those early years, I raged against God. I wanted answers, and I wanted them right away. I read the Bible again and again, and I learned.

When Catherine died, God's heart broke with mine even as it celebrated with hers. I will be with them both before I know it. The search almost killed me but it lead me to the treasure: a love affair with Jesus and the solid hope of Eternity. Oh, I still forget to trust Him sometimes; but when I do, He sends a message- through His Word, through nature, through the prayers of a friend. And once again, I cast my cares at His feet.

Sometimes I feel like waiting for Heaven is like flying to Hawaii- it's a long, arduous, frequently uncomfortable trip. But the destination is worth the wait. Two weeks ago, Kevin and I sat in the shade by the sea, celebrating the joy of Easter with God's people. The breeze ruffled my hair as the worship team jammed in praise. Men in aloha shirts and women with flowers in their hair closed their eyes and raised their hands to Jesus. I was grateful for the moment, and for the Spirit of God who lives within us. But on this special Sunday, He sent me a gift to remind me of my daughter. That first Easter morning, Christ threw open the door to Heaven; there she now waits for me.

The raucous praise of the worship team gave way to the voice of one man with a ukulele. He strummed and sang Catherine's favorite song, Shout to the Lord, in his native Hawaiian. Two yellow butterflies danced through the leaves above my head.
Tears ran down my face as Heaven touched Earth, just for me. I have learned to love the treasures God gave me in in darkness; I hold them close as I dance in the light.

My name has been added to the roster: I'm listed in the Who's Who of one blessed by His love. He has summoned me by name- I am His, and He is mine. To God be the glory- Amen!

©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications, LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Battered Baggage and a Pacific Breeze

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Mon, 02 May 2011 21:15:00 GMT

As the crow flies it's 3210 miles from our house to the Big Island, but United must have consulted a dodo, routing us through Denver, Portland, and San Francisco on our way out of town. Just past dusk on the second day we flew into Kailua-Kona's tiny airport; almost midnight Colorado time. My jet lag hadn't even begun to catch up with the stress I'd brought from home. I was dragging a soul that was tired and torn, attacked and distraught. I hadn't slept well in weeks.

We picked up our rental car, stopped at the supermarket, and (after a few wrong turns) found our condo in the dark. Sweat beaded up under our Colorado clothes in the Hawaiian humidity as we hauled our luggage up the stairs, adding to the already weird feelings generated by food court nutrition, fatigue, and a generous coating of travel cooties. Finally we got the bags inside and were just starting to get snippy with each other when Kevin pulled open the sliding glass door.

And the roar of the Pacific filled the room.

We stopped dead in our words. Waves crashed on the rocks one floor below us, leaving spray on the screen between us and the sea. A saltwater breeze wafted over our skin, and we looked at each other and grinned. We had made it. A year of scrimping and saving, months of toil without a break, and weeks of dealing with a difficult situation: all thousands of miles away. It was just the three of us now- me, Kevin, and God. We couldn't wait to be together.

Over the next few weeks I'll share the stories of ten remarkable days. While vacation always feels good, I can't remember the last time I arrived feeling so beat up. Normally I give considerable thought and prayer to the devotionals and study materials I take traveling. This time, I hadn't even brought my Bible. I was ready to lie down like Elijah in 1 Kings 19. "I have had enough, Lord," he said. Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors." ( 1 Kings 19:4b NIV) But just as God sent an angel to minister to Elijah and restore his strength, so the Lord himself ministered to me in ways I could never have imagined. Not because of anything I had done, or said, or deserved; only because I asked. He is my Father, my Lord, the Jesus who loves me. He never forsakes me, nor does He cease to amaze me.

I invite you to join me during the month of May as I share how God reminded me of His love, His power, and His mercy through sneaky crabs, snorkeling, and allowing the riffraff free access to the beach. What do sea turtles and the rings of Saturn have in common? The Lord God made them all, and showed them to me! Come with me and see the pictures He painted for this beat-up daughter, restoring my sanity and repairing my soul. To God be the glory! Amen.

From the time the world was created, people have seen the earth and sky and all that God made. They can clearly see his invisible qualities- his eternal power and divine nature. So they have no excuse whatsoever for not knowing God. (Romans 1:21 NLT)

©2011 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved

Passion Week on Hamburger Reef

rachel@friendshipwithjesus.com (Rachel Ophoff) — Sun, 17 Apr 2011 22:23:00 GMT

Dateline: Hamburger Reef, a stone's throw off the pier at Georgetown, Grand Cayman. January, 2006.

No matter how fast I swam, they stayed just ahead of me. The school of blue tang moved in unison- flashing right, left, then darting over the rocks and out of sight. I struggled to keep up, only to lose them as they vanished into the void. The dark blue wall of the deep always makes me nervous- that's where the big beasties live- so I gave up the chase and snorkeled back toward the reef. In the relative safety of the shallows I reveled in the colors of the corals and their ever-shifting patterns of sunlight and shadow. My heart beat simply in the bliss of the moment, until I came upon a silvery piece of junk wedged between two rocks.

A supermarket shopping cart. A shopping cart!

Finding man-made trash in this magical world jarred the bliss out of me. Dumbfounded, angry, and disgusted, I wondered how a shopping cart landed in the bay. I've seen reefs abused while snorkeling in poorer countries, but Grand Cayman? This nexus of Caribbean offshore banking is home to well-heeled visitors and wealthy second-home owners. What kind of vile offender would despoil the coral, the fragile and sacred home of the elusive blue tang?

Later I learned the vile offender was Hurricane Ivan. On September 12, 2004, a little over a year before my swim, this massive category-five yawned as he approached Grand Cayman and swallowed the island whole. Most roofs shredded in winds close to 200 mph. Twelve inches of rain joined forces with a ten-foot wall of seawater to cover this narrow spit of land, almost reclaiming it for the sea. Ivan finally blew off to the northwest, sucking the ocean off the island behind him and depositing a trail of debris across the bay, not limited to Food Mart's errant cart.

Floating over the flotsam I chose to ignore the trash and marvel instead at God's handiwork, snorkeling 'til my strength gave out. Dripping and salty, I clambered over the rocks and right up to Church Street, Georgetown's main drag. From the wharf the view of the harbor is breathtaking. Cruise ships pull in and anchor each day, discharging their day-trippers to hit the beaches as well as the shops. Sixteen months after Ivan, the roofs closest to the port had been replaced, the shops repaired, and visitors were greeted by the Disney-esque downtown with a view of the sparkling sea. Only the locals knew of the devastation that remained.

Five years and four thousand miles away, this Passion Week calls me to examine the view from the harbor of my heart- both the sparkling surface of the sea as well as the depths, where storms deposit the occasional trash. Jesus has been the master repairman in my harbor for a few years now. He's replaced my shredded roof and buffed out the stains on my heart, and I can even snorkel safely in the shallows most of the time. But every once in a while I come upon a shopping cart- twisted from the tempest, a blight on the handiwork of God. It jars the bliss right out of me. Dumbfounded, angry, and disgusted, I wonder: How did this trash come to land in my bay, and who can make it right? Alone, I can't haul it from the water or transform it into something it's not; nor do I want to leave it the way it is. Once again I call on the Master Repairman, who is also the Maker of the reef.

The Lord of creation knew trash would someday fall on the ocean floor, and He designed coral to be a living organism that heals. It builds its home on shipwrecks and downed planes and all manner of man-made disaster. In His time, and with His help, the broken always becomes the beautiful. Fish find a home amidst the colors of the corals and thrive in the ever-shifting patterns of sunlight and shadow. Together, Jesus and I look at the trash in my harbor, and by His suggestion, we leave it as it is. Its presence will warn me to guard my heart when the tempests blow by, and someday its structure will be home for the beautiful blue tang. Only the locals and the Lord of creation will know of the devastation that was, but hopefully many will see the healing that is to come. God can make all things beautiful in His time, including my heart.

©2011, Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

Please visit my website at http://www.friendshipwithjesus.com

Copyright Rachel Ophoff 2011 All Rights Reserved