When Did We See You Hungry?

The picture that Jesus uses in Matthew 25 where He says that when you feed the hungry you are actually feeding Him has always been impactful to me. I have often taken refuge in the phrase “whatever you did for one of these.” That measurement makes the task more doable. I can feed one, clothe one, or visit one sick person. Yet, I don’t find the little I do very comforting when I look around my home and see that I have accumulated more than I would need to live well.

The challenge has increased now that I am working with a benevolence ministry where we are stewarding contributions that people are “giving to God’s work” and distributing these funds to those who come hungry. I believe that some of those who come are those that Jesus will reference when He says to me, “I was hungry and you fed me.” It is also true that some who come asking for practical help would actually be better off if we confront poor choices and help them manage their life.

God has sent us a highly qualified team for this work. I can refer to this team and know that each story will be listened to and trusted discernment will guide us. But, there is danger here that we don’t start to depend on ourselves. We need to listen to each story on our knees and borrow the words of the Old Testament king who said we don’t know what to do but our eyes are on You.

The decisions we make will matter for eternity. God, help us to recognize when You are hungry. Thank you for honoring the hungry, naked, stranger and sick so highly that you borrow their identity.

When have you seen Jesus hungry this week?

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Loving the Prodigal at Easter

Since childhood, Easter Day has been for me a stunning penetration of ordinary life by the profound overarching power of God. There is no problem bigger than a dead Jesus and His power over death is that which is made available to me. How then, can I approach Easter with a broken heart?

I explain it to myself by saying that I cannot bask in abandoned joy when the one I love is in a place of relentless agony.

Can I celebrate Sunday if the one I love is still nailed to the darkness of Friday?  Can I celebrate Easter if the one I love is still in the despair of Saturday? Can I benefit from the power of the Resurrected Christ if the one for whom I have prayed that their faith not fail has now had their faith eroded by a tortured mind and body?

What does the Apostle Paul mean when he says his determined purpose is that he may know Christ, the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of his suffering?  How do these two concepts fit into my already crowded heart?

I am going to finish this blog. I need to process these things. I welcome your prayers and your comments.

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God’s Prayer Requests

Listening to God and talking to Him seem to gain a renewed sense of mystery and privilege this week as we remember the price God paid to open this line of communication for us. God not only initiates prayer by “talking” to us through His word, His world, and His children, but then goes on to welcome us near, reminding us that He wants to give us mercy and grace.

I want to give God the respect of eye contact when He talks to me this week. I want to develop healthy communication patterns. Not one where I tolerate the others speaking, in this case, God Himself, so that I can say what I have already planned to say, but one where, when I have listened carefully, my response demonstrates that I have heard and am pondering.

I think I should start a prayer journal where I record what God is interested in talking about. In Malachi 3:16 we have this remarkable window into what God does with our words, “Then those who feared the Lord spoke to one another, and the Lord gave attention and heard it, and a book of remembrance was written before Him for those who fear the Lord and who esteem His name.”

If God thinks what I say is worth writing down then certainly I need to treat His words to me as precious keepsakes and record them in a book of remembrance.

Let’s let God write our prayer list this week. I would love to hear about your conversations.

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A Prayer for My Friends

by Shirlee Vandegrift

Listening Father,

Our hearts and minds are full of conversations we have had recently with friends and relatives.  Because we are over 60 in many cases, much of our conversations have to do with illnesses.  We are ill or they are ill.  It is all too common.

A couple of days ago I spoke with a friend who was quite healthy until she was about 80. Then she began to have a series of health issues.  Her eyes were failing, so was her heart, her hip, etc.  For a person who worshipped You most of her life, Father, she wonders what is going on.  What struck me as the saddest remark from her was that she wasn’t able to pray much these days.

How many times have You heard that, Lord?   How often have You wanted to comfort one of Your children if only they would ask?  At a time when they need You most they withdraw and deny You the pleasure of sitting with them and holding their hand with Your healing hand or the pleasure of taking them home with You if that is your plan.

Loving Companion, forgive us.  We know You understand the seeming withdrawal.  It isn’t that You are loved less.  It is just so hard to be old and sick.

During this most difficult time we will pick up where our sick friends leave off, with prayers on their behalf.  May our words be what they would say if they were able, and may You respond to them in Your own special ever- present way that lets them know You are their God., always close and ever Sovereign.

Amen

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It’sTime to Head Home

For the past year and a half the relentless recurrence of medical challenges has revealed the deep sacrificial love that is the fabric of this marriage. No one would have been critical if there had been some expression of lament from the husband who is afflicted or from the wife, the tireless caregiver. But all that came from them was gratitude for the 85 years of health that preceded this season of difficulty.

This week I learned they were back in the hospital again and wanted to talk about making some big decisions. The care conference for this decision was held as we stood in a circle around his hospital bed. The team was made up of three physicians, a social worker, a nurse, his wife, his oldest daughter and me, his pastor.  As a spokesman for the family I expressed our belief that these bodies are only designed for temporary use; we never want to hasten death but we also do not want to deny death.

I asked the medical team to consider hospice care as the regime of treatment was seemingly prolonging the struggle with no promise of benefit. We all prayed together acknowledging the gravity of this decision and at the same time knowing that our sovereign God would not be limited by our actions. We prayed that if our decision was not His will that His will, not ours, be done.

With gentle authority, the doctor in charge stated that this beloved husband and father did, indeed, meet the qualifications for hospice. Curative treatments would be discontinued and a transfer to an inpatient hospice would be implemented.

All of us in the circle breathed a sigh of relief adding the sound of our breath to the labored breathing from our afflicted friend. When the health care workers had left the room I asked his wife to talk to me about her response to what had just occurred. Without hesitation she replied, “Oh, I am simply filled with joy. I love him too much to want him to suffer anymore.”

She continued to caress the hand of her dying husband. I quietly thanked God for this picture of faith that shouted their belief that when we die we are swallowed up by life.

Yes, it was time to head home.

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Helpless?

by Shirlee Vandegrift

When a friend hurts so do I.

The other day a friend was telling how lonesome she was when her husband of many years died.  He was confined to a rehab/hospice facility for a while before he went home to be with his Lord, and that was hard enough, but when she was no longer able to visit with him there every day it was worse.  So final.

It hurt to hear her relate the last days with her precious soul mate. We both shed tears as she told what she missed the most.  Hugs were top on her list, along with the songs he sang to her every morning.

As I listened I was moved to ask her what I, and other friends of hers, could have done to make that grief easier to tolerate at that time.

Her answer was, “Nothing.”

I was almost sorry I asked.  But I’m glad I did.  I may not be able to help a person who has experienced a terrible loss, but I am open to anything God wants to do through me to help.  I may be helpless but God isn’t.

Now over a year has passed and my friend will tell you what she has learned and how she has grown; still through tears, but with God’s hand in evidence; and I am reminded of Psalm 46: 1-2: “God is our refuge and strength, an ever present help in trouble.”

Thanks Lord, I needed that.

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My Sister Is Homeless!!!

I was expecting to sit with my husband during Sunday morning worship, letting the music draw me into the Presence of God and letting my mind be instructed by the teaching from God’s word. All of the above happened but with a disturbing distraction. Before I found my seat I was told that there was a lady who was waiting for me in the lobby. When I met her, she told me that she had spent the night in her car in the parking lot of our church because she had no where to live. I invited her to come worship with me and then we would talk about how we might help her.

As we worshipped she lifted her hands in praise. It was obvious that she had been in a church before and that worship was not a new experience. The message was on Jesus’s words from the cross where He declared that His beloved mother would now be in a mother/son relationship with John, his beloved disciple. The application was easily followed as the family of God was acknowledged as the relationship being established.

Stories of followers of Jesus in dire circumstances were told and we were challenged to remember that they are our brothers and sisters. Then the single phrase, “What if she is your sister?” burned into my heart. This homeless lady sitting with me in the pew is my sister.

Where are your brothers and sisters sleeping tonight?

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DON’T MENTION BUTTER

I am trying to live a more healthy life. One of the components I am considering is diet. This week I have tried and failed to observe a three-day cleansing fast. The instructions included eliminating meat, wheat, gluten, sugar, processed foods, and coffee. This leaves fruits and vegetables but it is very hard to find fruit without sugar. Fruit juice can be found without added sugar but the pure fruit juice is loaded with sugar of its own.

My problem was that I woke up on the second morning with a pounding headache. This was easily resolved by drinking a cup of coffee. So, having failed I decided to do a partial fast.

Today I grated zucchini and sautéed it in olive oil. I then added brown rice. I was very proud of this effort and eager to taste it. Sadly, it tasted like shredded cardboard. BUT THEN, I spread it with a thick layer of butter and finished my bowl with a smile on my face.

When you check with your health care provider about what foods are allowed and which ones to eliminate don’t mention butter!!!

NOTE: This post is written in fun, not as credible nutritional advice.

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Irrefutable Indicants of Aging

I find myself at home with those who may look old to other people but don’t feel old themselves. I find it amusing that people more than 80 years old don’t want to join a Senior group because they don’t want to be around old people. But I understand. I am shocked when my own denial of my own aging is brought into the light of reality.

Life is kind in regularly providing us with irrefutable indicants.

I received an invitation this week for a high school class reunion. All classes that have graduated 50 years ago or more are invited. The event starts at 10 AM rather than the 4 PM I have come to expect. The “party” closes at 4 PM rather than extending into the early morning hours.  Is it possible that this is a gathering of old people? If so, why am I invited?

I went for a walk today. It was a beautiful day but just a little windy. I wore knit jogging pants and a sweatshirt. I also brought a headband to protect my ears. I met many walkers and runners on the path. Most had shorts and tank tops. None had a head covering. Why am I wearing so many clothes? Do those who meet me think they have met an old person?

I am finding myself delighted when a younger person struggles to remember something. If someone who is obviously young gets a date confused or is unable to come up with a name I feel like celebrating inside. Is it because I don’t want my memory loss to be related to aging?

What irrefutable indicants of aging have you encountered?

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But, She Loved Jesus

I wasn’t prepared for the story I would hear when I called to “check up” on this Senior Adult friend. She lives in senior housing and usually attends our meetings, but I hadn’t seen her in a couple of weeks.

“Oh, I’m just tired,” she said. “I have new medicine for my heart and it drains me of my energy.” She quickly changed the subject and said, “You will never believe what happened this week.

I settled in to listen to the story.

She said, “You know for our Bible Study here we have a plan where those of us who live alone call each other every day to make sure we are OK.”

I interrupted and said, “Are you able to go to the Bible Studies?”

“Yes,” she answered. “I lead them.” Eager to get to her story she continued, “This week the person assigned to call J didn’t’ get an answer. So the next step was to call me and I tried to call J.  Still no answer.  I then contacted the building manager and after getting no response at J’s door he opened it and we walked in together.”

My friend started laughing as she said, “Guess what we found?”

Before I could respond she said, still laughing, “J was dead in bed.”

Trying to reconcile the words I was hearing with the joyful delivery I asked, “Is this your highlight from the week; finding your friend dead in bed.”

But Roselyn, she quickly explained, “J loved Jesus.”

She commented further, “Everything in her apartment was in its place. It looked like she was planning a trip.” Laughing again my friend said, “I have so much stuff in my apartment that when my turn comes my daughter will need a road map to find me.”

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