Camaraderie over a Cross

Posted on by

Yesterday while at Walmart, I was on my way to the check-out through the seasonal aisle when something made me stop. Though the shelves were loaded with flags, red-white-and-blue merchandise, ice chests on wheels, and patriotic novelties, at the end stood a woman inspecting something that wasn’t festive at all: a wooden cross decorated with silk flowers.

Memorial Day had just passed, and the crosses had all been marked down for quick sale. But what did they have to do with Memorial Day?

When I was growing up, the name most frequently used for this holiday was Decoration Day. Families made time for a trip to the cemetery before the last Monday of the month, putting flowers, crosses, or flags on their family graves. Picnicking would come on that Monday, but serious thoughts of loved ones who’d already died came ahead of that.

The Walmart cross display let me know there were still people who followed the grave-decorating tradition, and apparently I was standing down the aisle from one of them. A woman studied the crosses, and I studied her, wondering what was going through her head. She picked one up, gently running her hand across the artificial white flowers.

Who had she buried? And how long ago? Was her heart still hurting as she held the cross? More importantly, did she have a relationship with God? Did she know he had gained victory over death?

As rambunctious kids a few feet from us begged their mothers to buy fireworks, I thought about how serious life becomes after death hits a family. When we were children, we didn’t think about death until a grandpa or great auntie died. Then we watched adults struggle with tears and became aware that death was a big deal, something unusual, unpleasant, and severe.

But of course it doesn’t have to be. In my prayer group this morning, one of the ladies asked the Lord to “take” a woman on our list who was in physical pain and a slow decline. If death was only unpleasant and severe, we couldn’t have justified praying like that. But because our friend was sure of her heavenly destination, asking God for her death was a way to bless her life.

As I stood and watched a stranger struggle over what to do with a Walmart cross, I felt a certain camaraderie with her. I, too, often thought of several important family graves. Eventually the woman gently put the cross back in its place on the shelf and then covered her mouth with her hand, an outward sign of inward turmoil.

In the end, she just walked away.

I hoped she knew about the cross, the one on Calvary, where Jesus’ blasted the power of death like a flame explodes a firecracker. Boom! Gone! Calvary’s cross had no decorative flowers, but what happened there is the one and only reason we could sincerely pray for our dying friend, “Lord, please take her.”

“He was delivered over to death for our sins and was raised to life for our justification.” (Romans 4:25)

WALK IN. GET WELL.

Posted on by

Recently I passed a medical center with an intriguing sign:

BELLVIEW URGENT CARE.

WALK IN. GET WELL.

I guess if you can WALK IN, maybe you can actually GET WELL. Those who are truly ill probably wouldn’t be walking in to that particular facility anyway, although sometimes a minor obvious problem can lead to a greater hidden one.

And that’s the thing about a human body. There’s much that can go wrong. Any of us, if put through a full array of testing, would surely learn something was amiss, despite not feeling any symptoms. But most of us would shun that kind of scrutiny. A more common approach to medicine that works most of the time is to assume good health until a pain forces us to the doctor. As they say, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

So often I think of the tiny baby-body growing within Birgitta. Every day I wonder what remarkable things are taking place in that dark, hidden place.

And thanks to the internet, we can find out. During this week, her 20th, our baby’s brain is refining her 5 senses, developing the nerve cells that serve taste, smell, hearing, sight, and touch. That means our mini-human is beginning to recognize Birgitta’s voice as well as other repeated sounds occurring outside the womb. She might even “jump” in response to a loud noise.

Also this week, paper-thin, miniscule fingernails and toenails are visible, and the soft body hair of a newborn has started to appear. Although Birgitta’s baby measures only 10” from tip to toe and weighs less than one pound, if she was born today, it’s very possible she would survive.

Recently Birgitta and I were studying an anatomy book, marveling at the variety and number of organs that have been squeezed into each one of our mid-sections. In the unborn, all the same systems are in place in them as in us, except they’re still in miniature. How everything can work out as well as it does, as often as it does, is a wonder. This baby is basically “done” even though Birgitta is only at the half way point in her pregnancy. Now all her tiny daughter has to do is grow.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

This reminds me of the new birth we find in salvation. As we come into God’s family by way of recognizing our need for a Savior (whose name is Jesus), all the necessary parts of our new life in Christ have been put into place. Beyond that, all we have to do is grow. It’s as much of a miracle as Birgitta’s baby is.

There’s just one big difference. It takes 9 months to make a baby. Getting saved is much quicker:

“HE WALKS IN. WE GET WELL.”

“I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in.” (Revelation 3:20)

Effective Communication

Posted on by

When I was growing up, the thought of communicating with someone in another room was done only one way: by shouting. Cell phones were non-existent, and even walkie-talkies were unavailable. That’s why it was exciting to put empty soup cans at both ends of a long string and talk into the cans. Two rooms away someone could actually hear you. Childhood pals sometimes strung a line between their two homes, cleverly talking well past bedtime.

Another pre-cell-phone way to stay connected with friends was epitomized on TV in a series called “The Goldbergs,” aired in the 1950’s. Molly Goldberg would lean our her apartment window and holler to her neighbor, “Yoo hoo!” and the two would converse across the corner of their building.

Cell phones have eliminated the need for such creative communication, but last week my next-door-neighbor and I harkened back to the old ways. Linda knew Birgitta was going to learn the gender of her unborn baby on Thursday. “Maybe you could put a piece of pink or blue paper in your kitchen window. We’ll look out our bathroom window and discover the news.”

And so after Birgitta opened her tell-tale cookie and realized she was having a girl, we hung a pink paper in the window. When Linda saw it, she taped up a response: a baby picture with a pink bow in her hair.

So who needs cell phones?

Something about this primitive but festive way of communicating was very satisfying. It was creative, free, and lots more fun than calling Linda on the phone. In a way, it reminded me of the creative ways God communicates with us.

Sometimes he makes the words of the Bible leap off the page with personal meaning. At other times he speaks through the mouth of a friend or pastor. Then there are our thoughts, which he can shape to lead us to him. Even a potent dream can be used in special ways to influence us for his purposes. Books can also alert us to his messages, and experiences in nature can prompt us to worship him.

Our part is to be sure we’re listening and watching for whatever it is he wants to say. If Linda and I hadn’t remembered to look out our windows, we would’ve missed the happy messages. In the same way, if we race through our days without thinking of what God might be telling us, we could easily miss out.

It’s good to know he’s consistently trying to get through to us and won’t give up trying. And because there’s no end to his creativity, you never know how he might choose to get through. If you pick up a soup can and listen carefully, who knows what you might hear.

“Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.” (Romans 10:17)