Loving the Invisible Ones

Posted on January 12, 2015 by rstaples2013

A friend just posted a question on Face book, in words more eloquent than mine, asking for help in understanding why the world is standing united in response to 17 people killed in Paris and virtually ignoring the 2000 who were killed in Nigeria. This question is of deep interest to me because it has bothered me all week.

I am encouraged by our response to the Paris attack. I am glad that we care. But I don’t understand why we care so passionately about some people and seemingly not at all about others.

Or have we become accustomed to tragedy in some parts of the world? Is it not news because it is ongoing?

This enigma is not only true on a global level.

Regarding those who suffer in our midst, we express great concern when someone prominent encounters physical suffering. We are grieved if this person has pain for two days.

Yet, we are able to ignore the friend who has had pain for years. Once suffering becomes the consistent status of a person the phone calls and visits stop. We don’t like to encounter problems we can’t solve or questions we can’t answer.

With faith through aging eyes let’s ask Jesus to give us His perspective on the events described above.

Where would He send the Media?

Who would He visit?

With faith through aging eyes may we care about what Jesus cares about and go where He would go.

Maybe my love can give identity to someone who feels unknown today.

Maybe I start with asking God to let me see with His eyes.

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No Return Address

Posted on January 11, 2015 by rstaples2013

I wonder why some of the burdens that I so genuinely send to God are returned to me. I open the package and am dismayed that the thing I sent has come back to me in the same condition in which it was sent.

I know there are some websites that invite shopping risks by making returns easy. A return label is included with the shipping. This label can simply be printed and pasted on the original box. There is no charge for the return.

When I “cast my cares on Him” do I include a return label just in case He doesn’t meet my expectations?

Am I sending Him a conditional “trust”?

Does He know that I have gone through the motions but not really let go?

Tonight I want to send Him the burdens of my heart in a package without a return address.

Of course, I know, this is for my benefit and not His. He knows who sent the package and what is in it. But, I need to send it without the option of tracking it.

I don’t want to create a tracking number.

I don’t want to keep checking with God to see how He is doing with my concern.

I am sending it to Him and trusting Him with it.

I am not writing a return address on my package.

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Let the Mystery Live

Posted on January 10, 2015 by rstaples2013

There is something unexplainable about a relationship with God through Jesus Christ.

As a young child I would exhaust my mother with questions. She would gently say, “Honey, it is better not to ask those questions”.

I didn’t appreciate her answer. I expected her to be able to answer my questions.

As I grew older I sort of “forgave” my mother for not having the academic background to satisfy my theological curiosity.

Now, with “faith through aging eyes” I am beginning to agree with my mother. I stand with respect rather than condescension.

I don’t mean here that we have no answers for anything. Jesus clearly told us that He is the Way, the Truth and the Life and no one comes to the Father except through Him.

My concern lies with the absolute answers we cling to that are driving division in the body of Christ.

I have wondered if I were to hypothetically appear on planet earth from another planet, would I take a serious look at Christianity? I wonder if I would not quickly dismiss it as a faith where the adherents are not able to stand together with each other.

I am not advocating any compromise of truth. I am simply wondering if our insatiable quest for getting it right through endless explaining is actually getting it wrong.

Maybe it’s better not to ask those questions. Maybe we simply need to let the mystery live.

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Crushing Disappointment

Posted on November 27, 2014 by rstaples2013

The inside story of how one person expressed thanksgiving with faith through aging eyes.

In planning for this holiday, this friend decided to reject the anticipated disappointment that has been the trend on Holidays and trust that this one will be different. In heart felt prayer she put feet on her faith and named things that are not as though they were.

Yet, when the dreaded phone call came, that cancelled her family plans, leaving her alone, the trend of crushing disappointment was again the story line. The tangible distance between faith in what God has promised and the experience of today stretches across a formidable abyss.

This friend knew all the theological postures that are wrapped in a fragile cloth called comfort. She had worshipped on this Thanksgiving morning and sang; “Sing like never before, O my soul…let me be singing when the evening comes”.

She had heard the preacher say, “God never, never, never fails”. And she believed it.

But now, evening was coming in her heart. Where is her song? Where is the God who never fails?

These questions are expected in the early stages of the Christian life. But today they are delivering anguish to one with faith through aging eyes.

For this day to be survived a decision needs to be made, by this friend, on the following:

There is a God or there isn’t one.

God is good or He is not.

God can be trusted or He cannot.

We see the whole picture or we do not.

The enemy has been defeated or he has not.

Jesus is Victor or He is not.

By choosing faith responses to these challenges, this friend has determined and

decided that this Thanksgiving holiday is, indeed, a day of crushing disappointment

for our enemy!

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Because I Know You

Posted on November 25, 2014 by rstaples2013

Hearing loss opens the way for uninvited emotions to charge what begins as a straightforward comment.

My default response when my husband does not hear what I have said is to repeat the same comment in a louder tone.

The third repetition could easily be interpreted as an angry statement. By now I am shouting and articulating my words in a way that courts sarcasm.

Yesterday I stopped myself and said, “ When I repeat something that you don’t hear the first time, my repeated statement sounds like I am mad. How do you talk loud without sounding mad?”

My husband said, “It is the responsibility of the receiver to decide if the person talking is mad. I know you are not mad”

I asked, “How do you know I am not mad?”

His answer humbled me, “Because I know you”.

This response of pure grace did not take advantage of reminding me of how I could have done it better. I know that thee are better ways of making my words understood than raising the volume. These include not talking while I am walking away or in another room, standing face to face so lip reading can be an asset, turning down distracting noises and finding different words that convey the intended meaning.

But grace did not remind me of what I was doing wrong. Grace simply reminded me that I am safe because I am known.

I wonder if I extend this grace to God when I don’t understand what He is saying to me?

Am I able to rest in ambiguity because I know Him?

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Will I Outlive my Teeth

Posted on November 16, 2014 by rstaples2013

This question became the focus of my thoughts as I drove to my dentist’s office with a “broken tooth”.

I am so aware of being amazingly blessed with physical health. My history allows me to answer, “No” to almost every health survey that asks, “have you ever had?”

But, if I were to be asked if I have ever had a problem with my teeth, I would need several pages to tell the nightmare stories. These experiences have been so traumatic that I ask the dentist for Novocain before I submit to an x-ray.

I know that modern dentistry is relatively pain free. Yet, the memories of childhood experiences dominate my expectations. All the dentist needs to do is ask me to open my mouth and my body tenses. The sounds, smells, reclining posture, overhead light and a tray of sharp instruments translate into a guarantee of pain.

When we were kids, our dentist practiced in a town twenty miles from our farm. Because this dentist knew that traveling this distance was a challenge he accommodated my parents by doing all the work at one time. Because I had several cavities, I would be in the chair for hours.

Trust was also an issue. I remember my dad telling me that when the dentist filled one tooth he drilled a hole in the one next to it so he would have work to do next year.

Now, in my seventh decade of life, I have a nine-tooth bridge, a three-tooth bridge and several crowns.

My granddaughter called me last night with such excitement that I needed her to repeat what she was saying. I finally understood that she had been just standing in the bathroom, looking in the mirror, when her front tooth just came out in her hand. I celebrated with her.

As I think about her joy, I wonder why I live with such dread of my teeth just coming out into my hand?

Does it really matter if I outlive my teeth?

Maybe it is more important that I will not outlive my faith through aging eyes.

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Journey to the Secret Place

Posted on November 10, 2014 by rstaples2013

“He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High will remain stable and fixed under the shadow of the Almighty whose power no foe can withstand”. Psalm 91:1 Amplified.

This promise from Psalm 91 describes a place of refuge that stirs the longing of my heart.

But how do I find this dwelling place on days when nothing feels stable and nothing I touch is fixed.

“How do you find Jesus in a place like this”? (See Silverstrands.org blog from October 17, 2014).

One of the advantages to “Faith through aging eyes” is a trail of memories in which I have experienced Jesus running toward me at a faster more intentional pace than my hesitant stumbling towards Him.

Maybe I am asking the wrong question. Maybe there is nothing I need to “do” to find myself in this secret place.

Maybe, rather, I become still and give Jesus a chance to orient me to my surroundings; space to quiet me with His love.

As I lean on Him, I listen for His heartbeat.

It is only then that I recognize it is His hand that is leading mine and inviting me to dance to the rhythm He has designed for me.

When I hear only one heartbeat and the sound of one step I know I am in the secret place.

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Finding Jesus in “A Place like This”.

Posted on October 17, 2014 by rstaples2013

The conception of these thoughts rest in a question that has burned indelibly into my heart.

My friend was slowly regaining consciousness as she was recovering from a life threatening brain bleed. She was able to raise two fingers on command. To my delight, as I stood beside her SICU bed she looked at me with recognition and asked, “How do you find Jesus in a place like this?”

I knew the place she was referencing was not the hospital room but rather the mental wilderness of not being able to access her own mind.

My answer, which seems weak in hindsight, was “you rest and let others pray for you”.

Since this memorable day I have pondered the various encounters we have with “a place like this” where finding Jesus feels elusive.

Maybe the “place” is a physical or mental health crisis, maybe it is a relational crash, maybe it is a dashed hope, or a mountain that refuses to move.

All of these present the potential for a failure of faith. I am going to risk saying each of us have our personal “place”.

I am in one today. As I was “looking” for Jesus, my phone rang. I answered and decided not to say the expected “fine” when asked how I was doing. Instead, I said I was struggling.

The person immediately said, “I will pray for you” and then did so with reference to identity and authority. I allowed her prayer to transfer my dilemma to the arms of Jesus. As she prayed I was able to exchange the yoke that was choking me to the one in which He carries the heavy load.

We took comfort in the promise that when two agree in prayer the answer is on the way. We acknowledged the precise timing of this phone call to me.

I don’t have an easy answer for how to find Jesus in “a place like this” but the scenario feels less desperate.

Maybe finding Jesus is not that elusive. Maybe Jesus was never lost!

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I Know my Daddy

Posted on October 17, 2014 by rstaples2013

Yesterday I had a day with my granddaughter who has been eight years old for six days.

We planned our day together to include choosing and delivering some small gifts for people who are sick or in nursing homes,

Since her daddy was home with a cold we included him on our list. I asked, “What could we get for your daddy that would be really special?” This granddaughter quickly answered, “Cherries in a can”. Wanting to make sure this would really be a treat I asked if he would rather have big red cherries with stems. A confident smile confirmed her decision “I know my daddy”.

It was impossible to miss the impact of this statement.

Looking for ways to apply this to our relationship with our Father in heaven, I asked, “What needs to happen in order for you to say, “I know my Daddy”.

The answer she gave included, Listen to Him, Spend time with Him, Watch Him and Do things with Him.

As I absorbed these answers I knew they were an invitation for me to celebrate that I also know my “Daddy”, more formally called “Our Father in Heaven”.

Knowing Him gives me confidence. Knowing Him empowers me to make choices that will please Him.

Knowing Him makes me want to bring him something that will be special for Him today.

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There is No One to Ask

Posted on October 8, 2014 by rstaples2013

My sister called to ask me if she had chicken pox when she was five years old.

One of the realities of being in the top chronological layer of generations is that there is no one left on earth that remembers your childhood.

In this case, my sister was trying to decide is she should get the shingles vaccine.

I knew she had measles. I knew I did not have measles. I knew I did have chicken pox. But, did she? I don’t know.

Somehow, as I think about this I am feeling like an orphan. There is no one that remembers this important information.

There is no one to retell the stories, either. Like how I always cut my bread into squares before Mom poured mild and sugar on it. (Everyone else in our family tore the bread in pieces and put them in a cup).

This longing for someone to acknowledge the reality of my childhood reflects the teaching of C. S. Lewis that we never stop being a child. He compares our aging to rings on a tree stump. The inner ring representing childhood does not disappear but is wrapped around by increasingly larger rings as decades pass.

I’m glad today that Papa God not only makes room for childlike faith in “faith through aging eyes” but that He delights in it.

As I long for someone to member my childhood, and to remember that I am still a child, I can turn that longing into gratitude.

Thank you, Papa God that you do not forget. Thank you that in You I will never be an orphan. Thank you that you remember the details of my story. Thank you, more importantly, that I have a role to play in your story.

There is Someone to Ask.

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