Someone Must Pay. Someone Has.

The news is always filled with tragedies. One of the most recent one was Joseph Stack flying his plane into the IRS building in Texas. He ended up killing himself and Vernon Hunter (a man just going about his daily job) and terrorizing countless others. I am grieved by that news.

Today I read that Valerie Hunter, Vernon Hunter's wife, has filed a lawsuit against Sheryl Stack to find out if Joseph Stack left any life insurance money. I cannot imagine Valerie Hunter's grief and trying to figure out how to make life work after her husband's loss. Still, this news saddens me. It is one more example of what our society has come to. We live in an increasingly litigious society, a society whose mantra is "Someone must pay."

Part of the lawsuit is that Sheryl Stack (Joseph Stack's wife) should have warned people about her husband. If she knew, she probably should have said something. However, I wonder if she did know. I think it is a big IF. If she even had an inkling, I wonder if she would have dismissed it or perhaps couldn't even fathom that her husband would do something like that. How do you prove that she did know?

I haven't read it, but apparently Joseph Stack posted a screed on line. Shouldn't anyone who saw it alerted the authorities?

Someone must pay. Someone must be to blame.

It isn't a new phenomenon. When Columbine happened, everyone looked at the boys' parents. The prevailing thought was "They should have known. There must have been warning signs."

But here is the reality. They might have seen something, but it might not have been enough to raise alarms. Or maybe they misinterpreted what they saw, chalked it up to teenage angst, something they would grow out of.

Still, we say that someone must be to blame. Someone must pay.

Those are big examples. But what about day to day life? Do you ever look for someone to blame or make someone pay in some way?

Sadly, I know I do at times. I want things to all balance out. If I feel I've been injured, I want to know that someone else has owned responsibility. I want it to even out. But it is never as satisfying as I imagine. Balancing, winning that justice, can leave a bitter taste.

God doesn't want us to seek to balance in that way. Rather, He says, "Turn the other cheek."

And He says to look at the cross. That is where Jesus paid a debt He did not owe to bring peace.

How would the world change if we sought peace instead of chanting the mantra "Someone must pay?"

The reality is that Jesus has already paid. What if we trusted that?

No Such Thing as Too Hard -- Hope Chronicles 88

I was always a good student, but my senior year in high school, pre-calculus stumped me. It seriously stumped me. I was use to getting A's and bemoaning an occasional B. I put my nose to the grindstone the first quarter -- staying late and going in early for extra help. The result was a C. I vowed not to let it get the best of me and kept at it second quarter. Again, I got a C.

As the third quarter rolled around, I trembled. All year long, Mr. Bates had told us about the 200 point take home test he gave third quarter each year. I worked all weekend on that test, puzzling over and over the questions, searching the book, praying. When we got it back, I was crushed to find out that all of my effort resulted in 2 points out of 200!

With an eye on college (I had already been admitted to the University of Evansville), I called the admissions office and asked if I needed the class. It turns out that I only needed it if I was going to go into engineering. I dropped it -- wondering why I had been taking it in the first place.

I had Mr. Bates for a computer class as well. I hadn't talked to him about my decision, so when I showed up for the computer class, he expressed his disappointment. "Why," he asked, "after all that hard work would you quit now?" My answer, "It was just too hard." And it was hard and I couldn't stomach seeing an F on my report card after that disastrous take home test.

I don't necessarily quit easily, but there are times when I have decided that things are just too hard.

Lately, I've found myself thinking a lot about the idea of something being too hard. It's come to mind, particularly, as I've tried to sort through some personal things. I find myself wanting to avoid, bemoaning the fact that something is too hard. Is it doable? Probably. But it seems too painful. It feels crushing -- 100 times more so than contemplating an F on that report card. I quit then, so it seems logical to quit now. Maybe that is the danger of quitting. It becomes easier and easier to quit.

But should I have quit then? I don't know. F or no F, I had already been admitted to college and gotten a scholarship. While I didn't need the class for college, I may have need the growth experience from surviving an F on that all-important-to-me report card. But looking back, who cares now what was on that report card or more high school class rank?

As I've thought about it, the thought has come to mind, "What if Jesus had said it was just too hard?"

Look at Jesus as He approaches Jerusalem for the last time. Scripture makes it clear that He knows what was coming. What if he thought:

• My friends will fall asleep when I need them the most. I should stop.
• My friend is going to betray me with a kiss. I should turn around.
• They will bind my hands and beat me. The pain will be too great too bear. I should run.
• They will jam a crown of thorns upon my head, mock me, spit on me, humiliate me. I should hide.
• The crowds who praise me as I enter Jerusalem will call for my death in mere days. Would only a fool go forward?
• They will nail me to a cross like a criminal. I will die an agonizing death. How can I go one more step knowing that each step takes me one step closer to this pain and humiliation, the sense of being forsaken, the agony? God, it is just too hard.

And Jesus did wrestle with what was coming. In the garden, He prayed that God would take the cup from him. But then He prayed that God's will be done. His sweat came as drops of blood as He considered what was coming. But then He still prayed that God's will be done.

So easy to say, "God's will be done" when life is easy -- when friends and family are faithful, when everyone is healthy, when the job is going well, when everything is just going right. how much harder to say it in the midst of pain and suffering, illness, abandonment, sadness . . . .

Jesus could have said, "It's too hard" and He would have been right. It was too hard. But he didn't quit. He fixed his eyes on God and pressed forward to the joy set before Him.

Sigh. If Jesus did not quit, do I have the luxury of saying, "It's too hard. I'm not going there!"

But there is hope in knowing that when it mattered the most in all of eternity, Jesus refused to throw up His hands and utter "It's just too hard!" and quit. He walks with us in the midst of hard.

Fair Isn't Always Equal

Fair. Put one piece of cake on the table in between 2 kids and you'll get an immediate lesson in fair. (For those of you with kids, I've heard the way of making sure things are fair in this situation is to let one child cut the piece of cake and the other get first dibs on which half they want!) Kids are keenly aware of fair. But then, most adults I know are pretty aware too!

I came across this book last night. It had the title that went something like "Fair Isn't Always Equal." Maybe it stood out to me because "fair" was on my mind. Like most people, I like things to be fair. If they aren't fair, I prefer to be in the one up position. Honestly, (like most people, I think) I probably don't even think about fair unless I feel like I'm getting the short end of the stick.

When I was on staff with InterVarsity Christian Fellowship, our Regional staff meetings one year were on Racial Reconciliation. They had a variety of activities they put us through and then debriefed. One was a race with candy as the reward. We started out in one line. Then the facilitator said something like, "If you were raised in a two parent home, take one step forward. If you had a library card growing up, take a step forward. If you had a computer at all in your home, take a step forward." After several of those, we also heard, "If you spent time in a foster home, take a step back. If you have ever been refused service somewhere, take a step back." You get the picture.

While we all believed in equality, the game showed us an enormous amount of situations where things weren't fair. In the end, a couple staff were way out ahead and none of the rest of us had a chance. One staff member was actually behind the line where we had all begun. Most had the sensitivity to be embarrassed at being so far ahead. It was humbling.

I don't know anything about that book, so I cannot recommend it. But I do think it is true. Fair isn't always equal.

As I've thought about it, I've also come to realize that God is more concerned about my character than about fair. I don't know where that thought came from. Maybe God whispered it in my ear or tugged it out of some recess of my mind from long ago. Where ever it came from, I think it is an amazing thought and it sets my priorities on end. I am so much more likely to think about fair before my character.

How do I know God is more concerned about character than fair? Look at the cross. The cross is stands in stark contrast to fair. There was nothing fair about Jesus death on the cross. If Jesus was concerned about fair, I would have been nailed to the cross for my sins instead of Jesus.

There is no mercy in fair. There is no grace in fair. Rather fair is about what is deserved or earned. Mercy is about not getting what we deserve. Grace is mercy's kindred spirit but takes it one step further and offers what we do not deserve and can never earn.

Fair is rigid. Mercy and grace are fluid and in God's love, they wrap themselves around His children.

Fair has it's merits. Merit is it's cornerstone. But stone is cold. I'll choose mercy and grace.

The challenge now learning let go of fair in relation to those around me and offer mercy and grace instead.

While I'm praying that, it's scary. Choosing those things are hard. God used that book title to remind me. Even last night, I found the words, "That's not fair" coming quickly to mind. Mercy and grace. Mercy and grace. Pray that I remember those words before fair even creeps in.

Thank God that He cares more about my character, about me, than He does about honoring my sense of fair.

Vengeance vs. Forgiveness -- Hope Chronicles 71

Awhile back I read Change of Heart by Jodi Picoult. She does not write to a Christian audience, but I have really liked some of her stuff. Change of Heart was not one of my favorites. Yet it still had those "ah -ha" moments that made me think.

The premise is that a pregnant woman's husband and child are murdered. The murder is on death row and wants his heart to go to the woman's second child. As you will have guessed needs a heart transplant. In the book, the mother, June, asks the following questions:

Would you give up your vengeance against someone you hate if it meant saving someone you love?

Would you want your dreams to come true if it meant granting your enemy's dying wish?

Humanity has a great need for vengeance. We want to see the wrongs righted. We want people who hurt us to pay ounce for ounce back every bit of hurt and suffering they have caused.

Humanity has a great need for vengeance, but Christianity has no need for it. Yes, being human, we still want to see people pay for what they have done to us. But Jesus calls us to something higher, something better. He calls us to give our hurts and even our hopes to Him and let Him do the sorting out. Yes, our enemy may in the end get his dying wish, but we would only rob ourselves and the ones we love if we lived by vengeance instead of forgiveness.

But forgiveness is hard. My father was very abusive while I was growing up. He has never asked forgiveness for what he did. I must admit that I still harbor some bitterness about everything he robbed me of and even the angst it has caused with other family members. But I do not actively seek revenge. I leave that all with Jesus. To that extent I have forgiven.

Yet, the question is one my pastor has asked in his own life. He had an abusive step father who late in life responded to an altar call. His first response was, "No, you cannot forgive him, God!" But like me, he has had to learn to leave the balance of it all up to God.

There is the rub, isn't it? With the cross their is no balance. It's all lopsided because Jesus paid the price for all of it. Because of that lopsided balance, I have hope. Without it, I would never be able to come to God. Coming to Jesus, isn't that worth giving up our sense of vengeance?

The Danger of Grasping -- Hope Chronicles 45

"I want . . . !" Go through any retail store and you will hear this cry from a toddler and subtler versions from older children and teens. If we are honest, we recognize the same cry in our heart. It can be about things. I want what so and so has -- house, husband, kids, car . . . . Maybe it is that I want to look like _________ (fill in the most beautiful person you know). Maybe it is the intangible things like respect and honor or position.

When we get down to it and are truly honest with ourselves, there thousands of "I want . . ." statements fueling our hearts and minds. Sometimes, those "I want" statements turn into "I deserve" statements. We are mortally offended that God or someone else hasn't provided what is so deserved.

I couldn't quite figure it out. But a couple I know at church has an unusual arrangement. They are very happily married but she kept her own name when they married. No, it's not even hyphenated. When both of their children were born, they took her name. Other things in their home are off from what one would typically anticipate. He does most of the cooking and grocery shopping. After knowing them for a few months I was really curious. I started asking questions.

The last is the easiest to explain. He enjoys cooking. His schedule also allows him to get home before she does.

Why didn't she take his last name? She is Latina. If she had taken his last name, her name would not have reflected that piece of her identity at all.

But what about the kids? My friend told me that it was his idea that the kids take her name. Most fathers would want their kids to have their last name. It's not that he didn't want that. However, he looked at the greater scheme. If the kids took his last name, they might be removed from a big piece of their cultural heritage on their mother's side. He opted out of any desire to have the kids have his name so that their last name could reflect their mother's Latina heritage. Given that both children are very blond, light eyed, and fair skinned, without knowing their name and their fluency in Spanish, one would never guess their heritage.

This couple amazes me.

As I've thought about it, I've been reminded of Jesus. In Isaiah 53:2-4 says:

He grew up before him like a tender shoot, and like a root out of dry ground. He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted.

I find that passage hard to wrap my Sunday school soaked picture soaked brain around. The pictures I always see portray an attractive man in his thirties with people thronging to him. He'll carry a lamb or have a smiling child balanced on a knee. But it says, "nothing in his appearance that we should desire him." We considered him stricken by God.

If I had my choice as God as what form in which to come, I think it would have been with beauty. Perhaps it is good that I'm not God. Even having that thought might mean that my reason for coming was bent toward worship at that moment rather than rescue of lost souls.

In those times even the death he died was considered cursed by God. Deuteronomy 21:23 says this: "you must not leave his body on the tree overnight. Be sure to bury him that same day, because anyone who is hung on a tree is under God's curse." I know the theology that Jesus had to suffer and die for our sins. But I am struck that the death he died was actually considered a cursed by God death.

Philippians 2 encourages us that our attitude should be the same of Jesus.

Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death— even death on a cross! Therefore God exalted him to the highest place and gave him the name that is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Who being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.

Grasping. Children are always grasping and reaching for something. Part of it is about growing and learning. I know that. But when the other toddler has a toy you've been ignoring and you suddenly want it -- bang them on the head and take it! As we grow, we learn to temper or hide that, but I think that I often have a grasping heart. I'm always grasping for what I do not have. I want to be just like so and so and have what they have. Not so with Jesus. Even though he was rightfully and fully God, He did not consider equality with God something to be grasped . . . . Because He did not have a grasping heart, He looked to our interests and died on the cross.

What a blessed hope there is in a God who would make himself nothing to rescue the lost. I pray that I would understand what it means to have a humble, hopeful heart rather than a grasping one.

My Hope Is Built -- Hope Chronicles 27

As a college student, I fought the whole idea of singing hymns. They seemed antiquated and outdated. Just before my senior year, I spent a summer at InterVarsity's Student Leadership Training (SLT). It was fun and stretching month. While we sang more contemporary songs, there was also a healthy dose of old hymns mixed in. I came to love some of the theology in them.

Now, I am in a church where we mostly sing contemporary Christian music. Much of it has merit, but it doesn't have the anchor of hundreds of thousands of Christians through the ages singing it. Many of our worship leaders are younger. About a year ago, I was trying to put power point together for the service. We were going to sing Amazing Grace (one of the few hymns that make it in). I asked about which verses and he rattled off numbers. But when they sang, they seemed to skip one. I forget which one it was and I called his attention to it because it meant the numbers he had given me didn't match up. He was genuinely surprised it was a real verse and not something someone had recently made up!

The last few days, I have been thinking about this song -- My Hope Is Built On Nothing Less. It's never been one of my favorites. If hymns come to mind they tend to be Amazing Grace, Be Thou My Vision, And Can It Be, Great Is Thy Faithfulness.... So, I've been a bit surprised to find this hymn rattling around in my brain.

"My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus blood and righteousness." What amazing words. While I know they are true, I also know that I find myself falling into the folly of thinking that there must be something I can do to "be good enough." I don't necessarily come right out and say it. But there is a "worker bee" mentality to me. If I can be kind enough, helpful enough, smart enough, good enough.

But that's where the second part comes in -- "no merit of my own I claim, but wholly lean on Jesus name." Nothing I do has enough merit. That is a humbling place to be. It really flies in the face of the American ideals -- the rags to riches, work hard enough, it only matters that you tried . . . .

While God may appreciate our efforts to get to know Him, He knows that in and of themselves, they are never enough. He knew that if my efforts were placed on the scales of justice against my sin, it would never be enough. So, He gave us the cross.

And it is more than enough for me and you . . . . So, while those things I do are good and God does call us to serve each other, I need to still my worker bee mindset and rest in knowing that my hope is built on Jesus blood and righteousness. No frantic trying is needed. For when Jesus died and rose again, it was simply -- enough.

A Rose By Any Other Name -- Hope Chronicles 11

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose , by any other name would smell as sweet." It's a famous line from Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliette. And the conclusion is that the name isn't what matters. Romeo would still be Romeo even if he wasn't a Montague (but it would have been easier if that was the case). A rose smells the same no matter what it is called.


Can I weigh in on both sides? Yes, a rose still smells the same, but there is something significant about our names. Why else would we be hurt when someone cannot remember our names? However, I am also willing to admit that this may be a pet peeve of mine. As you might guess from the picture, I am an identical twin. I do mean identical. We were constantly mixed up as children. I know the trick of telling us apart in some of the more "staged" photos. (We were placed in alphabetical order.) Give me purely candid shots and I am often guessing too!


Recently, I had some friends' children over. One found a tape and wanted to know what movie I had rented. It was actually a video made out of the reel to reel (yes, I'm dating myself) tapes of when I was a child. He wanted to see and asked, "So which one are you?" All the motion of two busy two-year-olds left it impossible for me to decide which one I was!



While some twins "outgrow" this identicalness, Sara and I still look remarkably alike. She recently attended the Hearts at Home conference in Grand Rapids, MI -- about 5 1/2 hours from where I live. Several people from my church are involved in Hearts. Sara had person after person come up and exclaim, "What are you doing here? I didn't know you were coming." To which she replied, "I am NOT who you think I am!"


In light of this, I'll have to forgive my grandfather for never knowing us apart. He called all the granddaughters "Honey" and "Missy" interchangeably while we were growing up. At about 14, it dawned on us to ask, "Now, which one am I?" We were horrified to find he didn't know!


Perhaps it is teenage girl thing, but I went through a phase of deciding what I would name my children when I had them. In bookstores, I could be found perusing the baby name books because somewhere in my head I had decided that when I named my children, I wanted the names to have meaning. This meant that they needed to be named after someone important in my life or that the name actually meant something. I planned out how I would tell them what their name meant and that each time I spoke their name I was speaking that characteristic into being in them. Lovely thought, isn't it?



At the same time, I could not resist knowing what my name meant. All the books agreed that "Amy" meant "beloved." However, I never had the courage to ask my parents why they chose that name for me. I know very little about the day I was born except that they had no clue that they were in for a bonus baby! I do not know if that excited them or overwhelmed them. I know only that we were premature and had to stay in the hospital for awhile and that Sara went home several days before I did. I do not know if they kept a vigil while we were there. I really know next to nothing.


But I do know that I did not feel "beloved." My family was a dysfunctional mess and "I love you" was not said and affection was not shown. (Even as adults, my sisters and I cannot seem to move beyond this.) I learned early on that it was better to read unobserved in the corner than to be noticed. If you were noticed, there was typically a sharp word or a criticism or a reprimand or any number of things. So, in my mind, I think I have always felt that it was some cruel joke like calling the fat kid "Skinny" to be called "Beloved" and not feel loved.


Most of my Christian life, I have approached God with caution. I've sometimes thought that I had snuck in the backdoor and could only stay as long as He didn't notice me. For awhile I opted out of church. When I came back, I came back literally trembling. For months I did not partake in communion just in case God might strike me down with a great zap from heaven for sullying His table after having abandoned church for so many months and being a sinner.

Luckily, even when I abandoned church, God did not abandon me. God has brought me into a great community of believers. From my friend Jill I have learned to say, "I love you." I also believe she has chosen to love me. I was (and to some degree still am) as prickly as porcupine when she first met me. (It can't be easy to love a porcupine!) Perhaps, more importantly than learning to say it, I have learned to hear it and receive it and believe it from others and God. I am still working to know how to rest in it.

Love. It drew Jesus to the cross for me. It made Him stay there until it was through when legions of angels were waiting for His call to sweep in and bring Him down from that brutal cross. For my sake, He endured the ultimate agony when taking my sin upon himself, God turned away. He did it for me. Because of that, I can never say that I am "unloved."

I do not profess to understand the book of Revelation. But with my fascination with names, Revelation 2:17 has always caught my imagination. "He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it."

A name only between me and God, written on a pure white stone. With as much as I've struggled to understand His love, I might not be surprised to find my own name written there -- "Amy, loved one." I have hope because of His love for me.

The Determined Life

I don’t know what I was thinking except that I needed to do something completely different to get out of the particular hole I was in the summer of 2001. (Unfortunately, having struggled with major depression and posttraumatic stress disorder for 28 years, there have been lots of holes!) I had found in the past that learning a new skill, something in which to invest the intensity of my emotions, often helped. Knowing nothing about horses and having been led around on one only twice in my life, I showed up at the stables in a nearby town and they put me on a horse named Streak. Once upon a time, he had been quite the horse and won awards. Now, he was a dutiful lesson horse and the instructor taught me how to groom him, sit properly (More complicated than you might think!) and walk him in big, lazy circles. At some point as I rhythmically swayed in the saddle, I intrinsically knew that I had found my next new skill to learn. Little did I know that I would learn a lot about life as well!

The next week, I was put on another lesson horse, Eddie. Eddie was the largest horse in the stable and had an insatiable appetite. Hay was kept above our heads at one end of the arena. When Eddie went by, he often had the tenacity to stop, crane his neck up, and have a snack. They called it “Eddie's drive through.” I quickly learned that I had to have Eddie's full attention and a certain amount of momentum when we were near that hay to keep him from stopping! Eddie, however, quickly became my most trusted partner.

By April 2002 I was learning to jump. You start out trotting over poles on the ground and then they get raised. Eventually I jumped 18 inch to 2 foot jumps even in a series of 8-10 jumps. It was so like flying!

I confess that I initially thought jumping was all about the horse and that I was just along for the ride. Nothing could be further from the truth! Just as dogs are pack animals, horses are herd animals. As long as the rider has established herself as the leader, they take their cues from the rider. I was amazed to find out that Eddie could tell where I was looking. Did you catch that? I was on top of him and he could tell where I was looking? It was if sitting a string ran from my backbone to his. When I looked a certain way, that is the way he would go. When I turned my head, my shoulders turned as well. My body position changed and this clued him in.

While Eddie trotted willingly over the poles on the ground, I found that he often came to a dead stop even with poles inches off the ground. Unfortunately, this had hard results for me. At least twice, I went on over the jump without Eddie!

The lesson learned - always look where you are going! When riding to a jump, look up and over it and onto the next one and past that one . . . . When I looked down at the jump, he didn't know where to go. Being rather old and disinclined to work, he was more than happy to stop until I figured it out!

In the animal kingdom, there are a few means of protection. One is camouflage. If a predator can't see you, he can't eat you. Then there is fight. This one is typically the last resort for most animals. And there is flight. Horses are flight animals. They spook easily. In herds, there is always a lookout. They run if frightened.

This also played into the jumping. Eddie could tell if I was nervous or scared. (Remember the string?) My nervousness usually played out all over my body. When we came to a jump and I seemed unsure, Eddie decided (though he had jumped higher millions of times) that he wasn't sure either. So, stopping and looking at the scary jump (that he could merely step over) made more sense than attempting it!

Look where you are going. Ride the next two jumps and not just the one in front of you.

This is biblical as well. I believe it is what Jesus did when He went to the cross. The Bible teaches that Jesus died willingly for us. He chose to do it. But it also tells us that in garden the night He was arrested, He prayed that God would take this cup from Him. He felt enough anxiety about it that his sweat was like blood. Luke 22:44 says, "And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground." (NIV) He was feeling enough anxiety, anguish, that the stress caused the capillaries in his body to begin to break.

So, what kept Him from fleeing when He knew what was coming? Hebrews 12:2 says, "Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." (NIV) What was the joy set before Him? It was a couple of things. First, it was being reunited with His Heavenly Father. Second, it was looking down through time at you and me. We are the joy set before Him.

I confess that I have wasted many of my 39 years looking at life’s jumps. Okay, the truth is, I’ve wasted too much time looking longingly into life’s arena rather than even attempting riding. Once I started riding in the arena of life, I’ve found myself paralyzed by fear and anxiety, unable to step over the smallest hurdle let alone tackle the higher jumps.

I had to learn to ride Eddie with determination and look beyond the jumps. Now, I am learning how to live with determination. I will not be defined by life’s tragedies and circumstances. I will be defined by the One who paid so dearly for me.

How does this play out in day to day life or when I am in a major depressive episode? Several things come to mind.

• Stay close to God through prayer and scripture.


• Keep scripture always in front of you. A friend has been encouraging me for several years to write out scripture on index cards and stash them all over the house, the car, at work, . . . . I’m finally doing it!


• Lean into a community of believers. Riders in shows or on the Olympics always look pristine. However, the truth is that horseback riding is downright dirty! Stables are dirty and dusty and horses sweat! I like to be clean, but I found caring for Eddie was a joy. I liked the intimacy of the moments spent brushing him down. Being in a community of believes means getting down and dirty too! Share your dirt and let someone help brush it away and do it for them!


• Look past the jumps! Maybe it is a struggle with weight, problems with you marriage or a friend or a child, conflict, health issues, things from the past, or depression. It’s hard work, but choose how you think. I literally had to think my way over the jumps while riding. Now, I have to do it in life as well. I struggle so much with negative thoughts that this year I’ve committed to writing weekly on some aspect of hope to combat that negative pull.
  
  Above all else, fix your eyes on Jesus. He is the joy set before us!
  
  *I certify that this is an original work. It is reworked from a blog posted on 1/12/08 on this site. If selected, I give Proverbs 31 permission to use this work.
  

Cats, God's Work, and Pure Hope -- Hope Chronicles 9

I have always thought of myself as a dog person. But a couple of years ago, I had a dog. I absolutely loved her. But after six months, it became clear that it wasn't working out. She - seriously - had anxiety. The vet even put her on anxiety medication! It manifested itself whenever I would leave. She clearly needed to be with someone who was home more.

I was distraught over having to give her up. (I still tear up if I think on it too much, but it part of this tale.) I had gotten her at the Humane Society and had talked to them weekly since getting her. They promised they could find her a home and suggested a cat. Why would I want some aloof cat? They loaned me one (something they don't usually do) for the weekend. Two years later I have two cats that think they are dogs. They literally greet me at the door and follow me from room to room. Even though I have a huge bed, they pretty much sleep next to me or on top of me!

I brought the kitten (right) home the day before Thanksgiving. I thought and thought about what to name her. I came up with Amalia (A-ma-leah) but Mali (Ma -lee) for short. Why the name? I actually knew someone once with the name. I liked it. But more than that, I liked the potential for the meaning. I got on the computer and searched name sites. I put in "hope" and came up with things like Esperanza. I suppose I could have called her Essie for short, but my eyes alighted on the Arabic word "amal" which means, of course, hope.

Since I am focused on hope, why not use it as a name for my kitten as well.

Mali was a stray before she turned up at the Humane Society at 4 months. I got her at 6 months and have had her for a month and a half. While she is very loving, she still acts like a stray when it comes to food. She will hop up on the table (though she isn't allowed) and steal something off your plate. Oh, she is a bit sly about it. She waits for just the right moment. Once she has it, it is hers!

I first witnessed this when I had a pizza crust in the garbage waiting to go out to the garage. I was watching TV. I heard this fierce growl. Mali was crouched with the crust (wider than her head) in her mouth. My other cat, Katy, was nearby. This was the reason for the growl. Since then she has snatched and ran with margarine wrappers, a piece of bread, and a piece of lettuce. While I didn't want her digesting the wrapper, so obviously, I had to get that from her. I also retrieved the bread and lettuce at personal risk (her claws are sharp and her growl is fierce). While these might not have harmed her, I didn't want her thinking that she could do that, reinforcing her by letting her keep her prize.

I had thought that a month or so of consistent feeding would weaken her resolve. Actually, I think it has gotten worse! I have now lost 3 dish rags left on the sink to dry (but obviously smelling of soap and food) to the recesses of the house because she has made off with them. She is now banished to the bathroom (crying piteously) each time I cook or even eat anything.

While I don't approve and would love to break her of it, I must say I admire her tenacity. For someone so little to growl so fiercely at someone so much bigger than her, for her to be so single minded in her pursuit, well there is something to be said for that.

Am I that fierce, that single minded in my pursuit of God and hope? I want to be!

As I have said, I knew a girl once named Amalia. I thought they had told me the name meant hope. But, I couldn't find it on-line or in any of the books I looked at. I had pretty much settled on it and decided that it was a feminized form of the word Amal. One night at the bookstore, I found a Christian naming book. Before shelving it, I looked. It was in there! But instead of just meaning "hope," it meant "a work of God."

And what is hope? It is a work of God in our lives. Without Gods work in our lives, without God, we live and those who have no hope. We can be sure of hope because our hope lies in an unchanging, unfaltering, and utterly dependable God. Did you catch all of that? UNCHANGING. UNFALTERING. UTTERLY DEPENDABLE.

Granted, it is more than we can fathom living in a world of broken people who let us down. But God is not a broken person. Oh, we break his heart sometimes, but it isn't the same thing. Even though we are faithless, he remains faithful. Once He has us, he holds us close.

J.I. Packer is a modern day theologian. In his book, KNOWING GOD, he writes:

"What matters supremely, therefore, is not, in the last analysis, the fact that I know God, but the larger fact which underlies it -- the fact that HE KNOWS ME. I am graven on the palms of His hands. I am never out of His mind . . . . He knows me as a friend, one who loves me, and there is no moment when His eye is off me, or His attention distracted from me, and no moment, therefore, when His care falters. . . . There is a tremendous relief in knowing that His love to me is utterly realistic, based at every point on a prior knowledge of the worst about me, so that no discovery now can disillusion him about me, in the way I am so often disillusioned about myself, and quench His determination to bless me."

Read that a couple of times. We are graven on the palms of His hands, never out of his mind. He is never distracted by a cell phone or someone pulling out in traffic. He doesn't waffle if He finds out something new about us because He already knows all there is about us. We can never disillusion Him. He knows the worst about me and loves me -- enough to go to the cross for me. That is essence of pure hope -- resting in God's love for me.

What does it look like to fully rest in that?

What does it look to fiercely follow after God?

What does it look like to seek him with a single minded focus?

I'm not sure. What it looks like in my life may be different than what it looks like in my life, but I would love to know what it looks like for you!

I am just beginning to figure out what it means for me. I think some of what it means for me is:

• being faithful to read and study His word


• keeping scripture in front of me


• being aware of my tendency to always, first and foremost, wonder how something will impact me rather than those around me


• choosing to serve


• focusing on hope

And more, but I am still figuring it out.

At some point in our lives we realize we are helpless to save ourselves -- that no amount of work on our part, no amount of trying, no amount of effort, no amount of anything will save us. It's typically a humbling and a bit of a scary place to be. But God steps in and says, "I will make a way for you." He offers us hope through the blood of Jesus shed on the cross. He says we can come no matter what state our lives are in. He holds out his hands . . . and dies so that we won't have to be separated from Him forever. The Cross is the purest picture of hope there is.

On a side note, my other cat's name is Katy. It comes from Katherine meaning pure. So, without realizing it I have ended up with a daily reminder of "pure hope" in Katy (pure) and Amalia (hope). That just came to mind last night!