Happy Father's Day

Tomorrow is Father's Day. In the past few years I have become increasingly aware of the variety of emotions any kind of holiday inspires in people. When life is good, holidays are good. But, when life stinks, well, who wants to celebrate that?

It makes sense, really. The original purpose of holidays (literally holy days) was to serve as a reminder. The Israelites had countless days that were set aside to remind the people of God's love, provision and goodness. Remember when God spared our firstborn children because of the mark he had told us to put on our doors (Passover)? Remember when God freed us from the Egyptians? Remember when God led us into the Promised Land? Never forget . . .

And so, our holy days remind us now - remember how God sent us His Son to save us? Remember how that Son overcame death? Remember the men and women who have given their lives for our freedom? Interesting how so many holidays have sacrifice at their core.

Then there are these holidays where we honor someone. Which is great. Until . . . the reminders become painful. Until your mom or dad (or even more tragically, your child) is gone. Until that first February after the divorce. Until the Christmas when no one can make it home.

And so, here it is for me . . . Father's Day. My father's physical body is still here, but the spirit is all but gone. Everything unseen that made him who he is has pretty much faded away. Last week, for the first time, he could not bring to mind the name he gave me.

I have a decision to make - as we all do when life hands us something we'd really like to fold our arms and refuse to take. But that is not an option. My choice is in my focus. What do I choose to celebrate? What do I choose to remember? What am I going to use to build my monuments?

I can dwell on that moment when I get a blank stare instead of the warm and loving "Hi, Deb!" that has been a constant in my life. (And it's okay, and even good, to shed a couple tears over that). But I will stubbornly focus on the millions of moments throughout my life when my father has looked at me like I was the best thing that ever happened to him. I celebrate the man who made me feel like I was the funniest, smartest, prettiest, most fun, lovable person to ever draw breath. And, best and most of all, I will live in eternal gratitude that he made it so easy to believe that there is another Father who will never forget me. I am engraved on the palms of His hands!

So, whether you had a great dad or not . . . whether you even knew your dad or not . . . you also can choose to focus on a Father who delights in you. He is there for the taking.

Happy Father's Day!!

A Perfect Example

Today is Madeline's 5th birthday. Where does time go? In honor of her, I am posting this article I wrote about 4 years ago. Happy Birthday, Maddy! I love you!!

I spend quite a bit of time these days with a very verbal one-year-old child. She makes me laugh with the faces she makes and she amazes me with how many words she already has at her disposal. But maybe what is most fascinating about her is her ability to watch everything that is said and done and her desire to imitate everything she hears and sees. It gets funny when you’re talking to her and the last part of every sentence is repeated with a question mark at the end.

“Let’s go upstairs.” “Up?” “What do you want for lunch?” “Lunch?” “It sure is a pretty day outside!” “Side?”

Clap your hands and she will clap her hands. Sigh and she will sigh. Laugh and she will laugh. Cough and she will cough. Her parents, who waited longer than most to have a child, laugh because when they pick her up, she starts to grunt and groan like they do. Well, you get the idea.

I often think how deeply God has implanted this art of imitation in each one of us. It is there when we are babies because it is how we learn . . . to talk, walk, laugh, think, simply to be. But it does not go away once we have learned these things. Peer pressure throughout our teen years is all about imitating those around us. Even as adults, we long to fit in . . . to belong . . . to be like everyone else.

I believe that God intentionally made us like this. His desire for us is to be imitators. The question becomes, “Who are we to imitate?” The apostle Paul was quite clear in his letters. In Ephesians 5:1-2 he says, “Follow God's example in everything you do, because you are his dear children. Live a life filled with love for others, following the example of Christ, who loved you and gave himself as a sacrifice to take away your sins. In his letter to the Philippians we find these words, “Your attitude should be the same that Christ Jesus had.” (2:5)

God sent us Jesus Christ to be the payment for our sins. He was the ultimate and perfect sacrifice that would take away the sins of the world by His blood. But God has a way of doing things in such a way that there are added benefits along with the “main thing.” In the case of Jesus, He not only takes away our sins, but also gives us the perfect example of how to live our lives. He longs to redeem us in this life, as well as in the next.

“What would Jesus do?” is not just a question on a bracelet to make us feel that we somehow identify with Christ. It should be the guiding principle of every person who has chosen to surrender their lives to Him. The only way I have found to practically live out imitating Christ, is by consistently reading about His life in His Word. It is only in reading about the way He lived His days that I can make the decisions for my own life that best reflect Him. There is supernatural power in following His example of getting away from everything to spend time with the Father, in fasting, in leading others into a relationship with God.

Just like small children who watch and learn everything they need to know, we must take the time to observe our perfect role model. Pray for me as I pray for you . . . we can do it together – another example of living like Him!

God Is So Good - Really, He Is

I was declared “mean” just last week by my friend’s 6-year-old son. Yes, me. You heard it, MEAN!! Any guesses as to why? Do you suppose I smacked, slapped, punched, kicked, tripped or pinched him? Maybe I called him a name or told him he’s ugly or stupid. No, this verdict was reached in his young mind because – are you ready for this? - I would only allow him 2 cans of Juicy Juice, instead of the 10 he wanted. Yep – MEAN!!

The truth is, it is precisely because I care about this child that I would not give in to his demands. As an adult, I understand that 10 cans of juice are not good for him. That kind of excess will make him sick or rot his teeth or have any number of negative consequences. If I did not care about him, I wouldn’t care about his juice consumption. And, it wasn’t even a selfish motive of keeping him calm for the near future, as he was leaving with his dad immediately following this encounter. My life experience has taught me that 6-year-olds should not consume 10 cans of juice . . . period. His life experience has taught him that juice is good – and the more you can get your hands on, the better.

Can you imagine what kind of life experience God has in comparison to yours or mine? The One who stands outside of time – Who created time – knows what we do not. So often we stomp our feet and glare at God and declare, “God, You are soooo mean!” Why can’t I have this or that? My life experience tells me that what I want is good and when it comes to good – the more I can get my hands on, the better! Right?

The uncomfortable truth is that we have no idea what is good for us. Truly, when it comes to life and all it has to offer, we are all inexperienced, immature 6-year-olds. The only way to come to grips with life and not spend it pointing fingers at God in anger is to accept that He knows what He’s doing. And there are things out there that can sometimes make this extremely difficult to do. Terrible things happen. In our human minds it can seem unfathomable that God would allow some of the things He does.

But the fact remains – He is God. We are not. I want to live my life believing in His goodness, no matter what evidence shows up that I believe hints that He is not good. I will stubbornly insist that even the tragic events are opportunities in His hand to shape me into His likeness. That’s the only thing that really matters at the end of this long day we call life. The reward will far outweigh the suffering – and truth be told, in comparison to so many in this world, I don’t really know what suffering is anyway.

So, God, whenever I am tempted to say You are mean, remind me of the Juicy Juice. Remind me that You know what I don’t and are working everything out for my good. Because that’s what You are – You are very, very good!

"As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.

As the rain and the snow
come down from heaven,
and do not return to it
without watering the earth
and making it bud and flourish,
so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater,

so is my word that goes out from my mouth:
It will not return to me empty,
but will accomplish what I desire
and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.” -Isaiah 55:9-11

Never Forgotten

I was born in Fairbanks, Alaska. I remember this being my claim to fame as a child. In school, if I wanted to get some extra glory or attention, all I would have to do was say, “I was born in Alaska!” For some reason, this produced great awe and respect from my peers. The inevitable questions were always, “Are you an Eskimo?” and “Why?”

I remember riding in the car with my family one day. I was probably about 7 or 8 years old. I told everyone that when I announced to my friends that I was born in Alaska they would ask why and I never knew what to say. My brother, Steve, said, “Just tell them you wanted to be close to your mother.” My dad started cracking up and I said, “I don’t get it,” which just made him laugh harder.

I was born in February and my mother has told me many times throughout my life that she wanted it to be really, really cold on the night I was born so that I could tell people this amazing temperature. (Really, how often does the temperature on the night you were born come up in casual conversation?) I would ask her how cold it was and the answer was. “Only about 20 or 30 below.” Oh . . . is that all? But, in a land where they would often see 50 or 60 below, it didn’t seem that impressive.

Isn’t this how good mothers are, though? Even before we are born, they are dreaming for us and imagining ways that our lives will be special and unique. After we are born, they nurture and cultivate those things and help us to believe that we can make a difference in the world. Parents are such a great example of God’s love for us, and He uses that love – both mother and father love – as a metaphor to help us understand what He really feels about us.

“Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me.” Isaiah 49:15-16

The implication in this verse is that a mother cannot forget. How ludicrous to think a mother would forget her child. But, it happens. While it’s my father that I live in dread of forgetting me, the idea is the same. Our human memories can be stolen away by disease or accident. And then there are the mothers and fathers who forget their children, not in a literal sense, but a figurative one – turning their backs on their God-given responsibilities for their children. Many people must live with the truth that their parents have “forgotten” them by just not caring the way they should.

And this is why I love these verses so much! No matter what kind of earthly parents we have had, there is Someone who will never forget us. See – he has engraved us on the palms of his hands . . . literally!! This takes away all argument that the crucifixion was something that just “happened” to Jesus. This tells me it was very intentional on his part. He did it – it was not done to him. I have this image of him looking down at those marks left by the nails and not seeing scars, but seeing me. “There she is – there’s Debbie. I did that so she will never be forgotten.” You can replace my name with yours! And yes, He does love you that much!!!

Loving vs. Being Loved

My brother told me yesterday that he was getting tired of reading about butterflies. Okay - I get it. I said I would post something today - but today I have not had the inspiration. So, here is something I wrote a few years ago while I was reading the book Uprising by Erwin McManus. I actually needed to read it again myself.

“There is a place where very few of us ever aspire to go, where the measure of our worth is not how much we have, but how much we give – of ourselves. This place is entered only by those who risk the dangerous quest for nobility, a quest that leads to a place of endless generosity.” -Erwin McManus (Uprising)

Seriously, you should read this book – and I ain’t just whistlin’ Dixie (or any other song of the Confederacy). I mean, the guy’s middle name is Raphael. Wasn’t he a mutant ninja turtle in his teens? How can you NOT read a book by a guy with a turtle’s middle name? Huh??

Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment was. His response was – “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul and strength and your neighbor as yourself.” McManus points out that our greatest pursuit tends toward being loved. We want to measure our worth and value by what others think of us. But Jesus said it’s the other way around. The greatest thing you can do is to love, not to be loved. The beautiful thing is that the two tend to go hand in hand. And this, I believe, is the whole secret. When we are so consumed with being loved, we are selfish, self-centered, and, if we take it far enough along, we become neurotic and paranoid. BUT, if we are consumed with loving, we become the most lovable people on earth and get what we long for anyway. It’s a paradox full of contradiction.

“Love in its purest expression is not something that is received, but something that is given. God is love not because He is most loved, but because He is most loving. We love Him because He first loved us. . . To properly pursue love, we must strive to give it away rather than simply find it. When we begin to love in this way, we begin to find the wholeness God promises. Until we embrace this reality that what we need will only come when we give it away, we endanger ourselves by becoming the ultimate consumers.” -ERW

Seriously, read the book!

The Butterfly

As I mentioned at the end of my last post, back in the days right after my "he cares for you far more than sparrows" incident, I went through a time when God really used birds to remind me of his love for me. I read a book that spoke of claiming something as a "God-sign." Something that would allow God to speak to you in a difficult or challenging time. Or just a time when you weren't really expecting or looking for Him. It really worked for me. It was amazing how God rushed in when I opened the door.

That summer my friend, Brian, and I decided to start a small group on Sunday evenings. Originally we had thought it would be for college-age people. We were reading a book by Laurie Beth Jones called The Path. It is a guide for writing a mission statement for your life. As we organized the class, however, people just a little bit older than college students began approaching us asking if they could be a part of it. Who were we fooling? We were far from college ourselves, so we opened it up to whoever wanted to come.

We had an amazing group of people - from college students to grandparents. Each Sunday night we chose a different outdoor venue to take a little hike and then gather around for our study of the book. This was also the height of my "God-sign" days, and almost every week I had a story for them of how God had come near and spoke to my heart. I strongly encouraged each of them to choose something that would be their own personal God-sign. I know some of them thought I was crazy, but others took up the challenge and sometimes they had stories of how God had spoken to them. From sunsets to rainbows to cardinals, God was pouring out His love to our little group and it was so much fun.

One woman in our group was Mary. Mary was a little older than I was and was beginning the "empty nest" stage of her life. And Mary took me up on the challenge. She chose butterflies as her God-sign and she had a story or two during our times together of how God had spoken to her. One week Mary told me she would not be able to make our next week's gathering as she and her husband were going to be on vacation to Mackinac Island.

Two weeks later on Sunday morning, I ran into Mary at church. "How was your vacation?" I asked. "Oh, Debbie, you won't believe what happened!" She was so excited and I stood and listened as she talked about how God had spoken to her heart of His incredible love for her. On the island that year, they had set up a butterfly house. This was the first year they had this butterfly house, "coincidentally" the year Mary showed up. She told me how she had walked through with butterflies all around, even landing on her. She was surrounded by her Father's love and floated through with tears streaming down her face. "Mary! You have to share this tonight at group. You will, won't you?" I knew I couldn't have stopped her from sharing it!

That evening was a beautiful summer night. Our gathering place that week was a place called Black Hand Gorge. Our resident expert, Bill Weaver, guided us up to the rock where native Americans had gathered long before our arrival. He gave us a little history lesson and we headed back to begin our group time together.

We gathered our chairs around in a circle in a grassy spot near the entrance to the park. "Before we get into our book discussion," I began, "I've asked Mary to share a really neat story with us about what happened while she was on her vacation."

Mary started her story. She had brought along her Butterfly House brochure as a visual aid. She held it up and got about 2 or 3 words out of her mouth, when a beautiful, big monarch butterfly flew into the middle of our circle. As Mary somehow continued with her story, around and through the tears, this messenger flew and danced in our presence, choreographing Mary's story in a way only an all-loving God could orchestrate. We all sat in amazement and as Mary wrapped up her story, the butterfly flew out of our circle and away.

For about a minute, we all just sat there in silence. It was truly a sacred moment. It may have been the most real God has ever been to me. We went on with our study for the evening. As we were wrapping up, Bill spoke up and said, "Do you realize that in the 3 or so hours that we've been here, we did not see any butterflies before Mary's story and we haven't seen one since her story?"

That is the God I know and love. And this is the theme he longs for us to embrace in each of our lives. This is my story; this is my song - He loves me so much more than anything I can imagine or dream or hope. Open up the doors and let him show you how much he loves you!

Far. More. Than. Sparrows.

I thought I would give some insight into the name of my blog since I had a friend say to me a few weeks ago, "Who is Ethan Sparrows?" I don't know if she thought it was "Farmor" Ethan Sparrows or what. But hey, I can't make too much fun since just that same day I thought my sister was saying she was taking my niece to a doctor named Ping Pong. (She's not - but wouldn't that be kinda cool?) I was thinking I would have to find a doctor named Table Tennis just to keep things interesting.

But I digress . . .

Several years ago I was going through a pretty tough time of questioning and anxiety. Doubts were chasing each other around in my mind - and I just don't like running. It hurts my knees.

At that time in my life I walked a lot. I live very close to a bike path and the walking would help to calm me down. I would try to pray as I walked, which was more successful at some times than others. At this particular season, prayers were not coming easily. God felt very far away and I was begging Him to reveal Himself to me. It can be very difficult to have a relationship with the invisible, as any of us who have ever tried can testify.

This particular day was a beautiful spring day. The weather was perfect . . . the temperature right around 70 and the sun was shining. But at first I didn't even really notice that. I was too focused on the storm within.

As I walked I just kept saying over and over to God, "Please tell me what to do . . . please show me the path you want me to take . . . please make yourself clear." I have found that He never answers my prayers in the way I would expect. I'm not sure what I expected in this case. Writing in the sky, perhaps? But that is not what I received.

As I approached a covered bridge on the path, I noticed a flock of birds. I am not an expert on birds, so I'm not really sure what they were. They were just the common, brown birds we all see a hundred times a day. I like to think they were sparrows. The best way I can describe what they were doing is to say that they were dancing through the air. They were making all kinds of happy, chirpy sounds and just swooping and diving around. They aren't really pretty birds, as birds go, but as I watched them, I found them to be so beautiful and I couldn't help but think that they just seemed happy.

Then I "heard" that still, small voice in my mind. Do you know the voice? It is the whisper of God you "hear" in your heart when you open yourself up to him. I have been blessed to be taught much scripture in my life, so often his voice speaks to me directly from his Word - which is the absolute best, because I never have to question the truth of that voice. It said to me - "Consider the birds of the air . . . they do not sow or reap or store away in barns. But your heavenly Father takes care of them. Are you not far more important to him than birds?"

There was no "life plan" that dropped out of the sky that day. My questions were not answered and I still didn't know what to do, as far as taking action was concerned. But God gave me something far better. The assurance that He would take care of me. The peace that came from knowing He loved me far more than sparrows and far more than anything I could imagine.

From that day forward God has used birds to speak to me. I wish I had been blogging (or journaling) back then, because there were some great stories that I have lost because I didn't write them down. I have lost that particular connection with God a little bit in the past few years. But He is so faithful to me and just this week he showed me my very favorite bird, two red-winged blackbirds, at exactly the time when I would know He had sent them just for me. Yes, He loves me (and you) that much!

Keep your eyes open for God. How He loves to reveal Himself to us when we go looking for Him!

"Come close to God and God will come close to you." -James 4:8a

"You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart." -Jeremiah 29:13