Looking back

When Russell and Maria carried their newly adopted sons from the orphanage in Russia, the babies cried. The boys didn't know that their days in a gray institution were over.They didn't know they wouldn't have to contend with flies on their faces anymore or lie in their own waste.

They didn't know that an airplane ride would soon take them to America where they would be part of a family. Meals would be nutritious and plentiful. They'd have their own room, their own toys and parents who would love and nurture them.

They were going to a better place but the orphanage was familiar and comfortable. They wanted to go back.

There are times, when God takes us as his adopted children, to a better place while we're crying for the orphanage. God's path is filled with adventure, color, nurture and fullness. But it's not always comfortable.

Next time he takes you out for a ride, don't cry for the orphanage. Hang on for what lies ahead because it'll be good.

(This story was developed from Russell D.Moore's new book, Adopted For Life, which I will be reviewing as soon as I finish reading it. But the nuggets in it are too good to wait til then to share, so I'll be sharing gems as I uncover them.)

Not heaven bound

No sooner has we walked into the tiny living room then we were handed beautiful demitasse cups filled with thick sweet Cuban coffee. Rosa led me to their front desk, where we settled into chairs for conversation, sipping espresso. She spoke English well and so we discussed children, her job, and the neighborhood.

Soon her husband poked his head out the door. “I would like to show you our back yard.”

So we set down our cups to step through the tiny house and view his backyard, which was little more than a large deck with some potted plants. The wood was scrubbed clean and the plants were strong and healthy.

A few pieces of clothing hung on a line across the deck and Rosa pointed at the little washing machine wedged under a corner of the roof. “That’s where I wash,” she said.

“Our driver is here!” my husband said suddenly. “We need to go.”

And so we quickly said goodbyes and headed for the street. Then I remembered the espresso cup. It was a beautiful piece of china that I didn’t want left on the front step.

I scurried over to find it and hand it to Rosa. “I didn’t want this to get lost. It is so beautiful!”

She smiled gently. “It’s OK,” she said to me. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t go to heaven.”

And in that moment, I felt stripped of much of the American materialism I had brought with me.

So that’s my new motto: “Will this go to heaven?” If not, it doesn’t matter. I might enjoy it for the moment but it needn’t have a hold on my life.

Jesus said it simply:

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

In Memory

Ruth Bell Graham
1920-2007

The world has lost a gracious, tenacious, compassionate woman of God; heaven welcomes her home.


Ruth Graham dies at 87
Ruth Graham

Aching for presence

My husband spent three weeks in Chile a few years ago. Through the magic of e-mail and faxes, we were able to communicate daily. Yet I counted down the days until he was home. I wanted more than communication – I wanted presence.

Jesus was questioned once by John’s disciples: why don’t your disciples fast? A pious Jew of the day fasted twice a week but Jesus and his followers did not. Jesus’ answer was a classic: why fast while the guest of honor is here?

Fasting, for the Jew of that day, carried the flavor of mourning and loss. Jews grieved their sins and the loss of Eden.

Jesus was the restoration of presence. There was no need to mourn while his followers were with him. That came later.

Does your heart ache for the presence of Jesus? We have his Spirit within us and so we rejoice in intimate communication. But do you ache for his presence? There’s a bittersweet aroma to our walk. We have Jesus’ Spirit, we have his Word, we have permission to stand boldly before the throne of grace. But we long for his presence.

Although I filled my days with activities while my beloved was in Chile, I don’t remember what they were. I remember his messages and I remember watching the highway on the day of his return. I remember the joy of his arms.

The bridegroom is coming. We fill our days with activities but they are nothing. May our arms ache for Jesus’ presence. May our hearts pound with anticipation, for the day is coming when we will feel the joy of his arms.

Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.

John 16:22

Getting there?

She was chatty and friendly. It didn’t take long for her to mention her church participation and her daughter’s attendance at Wednesday night youth group. Cool, I thought. Maybe we can talk about Jesus!

When she mentioned that she was trying to give up smoking again, I asked her what had happened to the last try. “Oh, stress got to me,” she said. “I was doing really well but then I got super busy and stress killed me.”

I was sympathetic. “Isn’t it interesting to find out what we use for comfort,” I said.

“Yeah, if I quit smoking, I’ll probably switch to junk food!” she laughed.

I laughed with her. “Well, remember what you learn at church, too,” I added. “There’s comfort in your Bible, too.”

She nodded. “Good idea!”

Before long, I asked her what church she attended. “I haven’t ever been to that church,” I said. “How do people in your church get to heaven?”

“Just like everybody else!” she laughed.

Of all the answers I was waiting for, that one shut me down a little bit. “Which is?” (Do you ever wish you had 24 hours to think over your next words?)

She was a little tongue-tied. “Uh, you know, doing good things, being nice to people, trying hard.” She frowned in thought. “You know, not sinning very much.”

“Do they talk about Jesus at your church?” I asked.

“Oh, yes!” she said and then we were interrupted and never came back to that thread of conversation.

I mussed with her worldview a bit. I could tell she was a little unsettled. I’m still stewing over our exchange, wondering what I should have said differently. I don’t know if I planted a seed or missed an opportunity.

But I am still mulling over the knowledge that a regular churchgoer in my hometown hasn’t heard that getting to heaven is easier than being nice to people and trying to minimize the sins.