Not My Finest Moment

For some reason, I have been feeling nostalgic lately, and pondering thoughts of attempting to recapture youth. All that is for another day, however. The following story is absolutely true and just goes to show that our youth isn't necessarily something worthy of reliving.

I think I was about 16 years old and a 10th grader. I lived in Goleta, in a neighborhood in which I would eventually raise my own daughters. Only difference? It wasn't the ghetto when I was 16. It was a neighborhood of families much like my own. I took a bus to the high school, was a good student, and didn't generally get into trouble. On one particular night, though, the tide turned.

Everyone had gone to bed. My brother and parents were asleep. My room was at the front of our very small house and faced the street. I have no recollection of what time it was or who hatched the scheme. Somehow though, I was on the alert, and eventually there was a quiet knock on my window. My room had a window that stretched floor to ceiling and was about four feet wide. There was a solid piece of glass on the bottom third of the window. The next section had the old-fashioned crank windows that opened out and screens that popped off in a jiffy. Before I could change my mind, I quickly hoisted myself out the window and slipped away to join a few friends. I don't remember that we had any definite plan. Just a little joy riding maybe? Who knows? I jumped into my friend Peter's station wagon and off we went.

We drove out of the housing tract, went down Hollister Ave. and headed over the the Fairview overpass towards the other side of the freeway. As we crested the top of the overpass a police car passed us going in the opposite direction. In the rear view mirror, Peter noticed the police car make a u-turn so that it was now behind us. All of a sudden, he floored it and the wagon took off. I had no idea what was happening. We hadn't been doing anything (well, other than sneaking out of the house) and now, all of a sudden, we were apparently eluding men with guns! Seriously? What was happening?




Peter deftly zigged and zagged and we found ourselves in another housing tract off a street that ran parallel to the 101 N. He pulled over quickly, parked the car, and someone shouted, "Run!" And just like that I was alone. I looked around and my pals, my buddies, my friends had disappeared. I was out of my element to be sure. I mean, I had been a willing participant in this escapade but now, I had no idea what to do. So, budding criminal that I was, I hid. Under the car. I can hear you smirking. Anyway, sure enough, the police car arrived quite quickly and then there was a flashlight shining in my eyes.

"Hi. What are you doing?" This from a very calm, polite policeman.
"Uh, taking a walk." I was a quick thinker.
"Under the car?"

Needless to say, I was asked to join the officer in the back seat of his sedan and escorted home in grand style. We got to my house and he walked up with me and knocked on the front door. Remember, last my parents knew, everyone was tucked in tight. The door opened somewhat slowly and there stood both my parents. My mom was silent - shock had set in, I'm sure. My dad stared at us for a moment and then said, "No matter what you've done, we still love you!"

Let that comment settle in for a moment. I am not that sort of parent. I seem to do fairly well in a crisis, especially if blood is involved, but if one of my girls had shown up at the front door with a new friend sporting a uniform, I'm pretty sure I would have had a freak out. Not my folks. I don't even remember that there was any yelling or screaming. I did get grounded for a good long time and also got mono so I guess that was fair. I later found out that Peter may or may not have had some beer in the back of his station wagon that may or may not have been paid for and he may or may not have only been 16 so that's why he had taken off. The other kids I was with were picked up shortly after me.

I was required to go downtown a few days later to talk with some sort of officer. I can't remember what his position was but I think his job was to put a good scare into me. He was successful! I remember him saying to me, "Your father is a high school counselor and consequently, you have a greater responsibility to behave yourself."

"Oh no she doesn't! She has the same right to make mistakes as any other kid." Bam! Can you believe that guy? He was and is patient, kind, and wise. Of course, all that kindness didn't stop him from grounding me but hey, I knew I deserved it.

That fateful night wasn't the end of my screwing around but it was certainly the most memorable. Teenagers. We're just so stupid when we're young. I didn't realize it then, but God certainly kept a protective hand over my life. For a long time I didn't even want to acknowledge that I'd been such a hellion. Now? Well, most of us have stories to tell that we're not proud of but that we can laugh at when we look back on them. My girls know me. I want to make a sermon out of everything and hope to convince them to see things the way I see things. But tonight, I'm going to resist that temptation. The foolishness in this account speaks for itself! What was I thinking? Not my finest moment.

Hope

I've been home sick for three days and done nothing but watch NCIS for hours at a time. As much as I am an NCIS fan, serious boredom has set in. Perhaps because of this, I have been looking through old pictures and looking back through the years, pondering the direction my life has taken. (That also may be because I am feeling my age these days.) I understand the concept of God using people and circumstances in our life to accomplish His purposes. Joseph's story in the Bible about how his brothers sold him only to have him save them from starvation is a classic example. I'm sure there have been countless times in my life when God has used people to somehow impact me; many times I am not even aware of it occurring.

I remember reconnecting with Paul when I was 19 or 20. We'd known each other for a few years but had gone to different high schools. I had been dating a very nice young man (now a nice older man) for a few years but he was not a Christian. I was, but I was a nominal one and it hadn't taken much for me to slide away from the church, Christian friends, etc. And then Paul and I started dating and his life revolved around "Jesus music" and the church and ministry. It was part of his attraction. He had, I thought, what I had forgotten I wanted. Falling in love with him drew me back into a close-knit circle of fellowship that I hadn't even realized I missed. Eventually, I was drawn back to God Himself in addition to His people.

As I thought about this, I sort of began to question God. How was it that this man, who I believe was used by God to change the direction of my life, now haunted me by his absence? How did that make sense? During a long, sleepless night, I struggled to put the puzzle pieces of my life together. I wasn't doubting God and it wasn't a demanding, arrogant questioning of Him. Just a wondering...about His ways, His times, His methods.

As the sun rose, I realized that 40 some years ago, Paul was used in my life in the precise manner that God meant for him to be used. And though I know that God intended marriage to last until death, human sin had torn mine apart. It occurred to me that God was, once again, using Paul to draw me back to Him. Paul's disappearance from my world was way beyond me and I had been laid low. So low that I was able to peek under the wall of my own pride and independence, grab hold of the "hem of His robe" and hang on for dear life. I really could do nothing else. I was powerless in the face of my sorrow.

It seemed ironic to me. Here was my life in a nutshell: Meet the boy, fall in love with the boy, fall back in love with God, move along for years with only a few bumps in the road with the boy by my side, then suddenly boy is gone and I grab the hand of the One who has been there all along.

Perhaps I should write Paul a thank you note for leaving me! Just kidding. Nothing justifies sin, his or mine and we are all sinners in need of grace. But maybe this little tiny tidbit of insight will give me a different perspective. Instead of looking at him as the villain in my story, maybe I just need to see him as another fallen, sinful, broken individual. No different from myself, an instrument in God's hands. Our paths crossed for a while and then, painfully, separated again. My focus needs to be on the One who designed my path. If it is, I won't lose faith when things get dark, dangerous, or depressing.

As a mom, I learned long ago that there is nothing like a child to bring you to your knees. Like alien soldiers, children are relentless warriors - capable of breaking down the walls of the most fortified parent. Seriously, how do any of us survive it? Why should a husband be any different? The Bible tells us to expect trouble and suffering. But I, for one, expected it from without, not from within! Yet the greatest pain comes through those we love the most - just as it did for Christ when He was murdered by those He had come to save.

This month marks the 5 year anniversary of Paul leaving. God has been so patient with me. I don't take pleasure in the dissolution of my marriage. But I do rejoice in His faithfulness, in His sovereignty, in His holiness. Five years ago, all I saw was a deep pit of despair, but even then, I knew it wouldn't last forever. Don't misunderstand me - I'm not so holy. I can't honestly say as Paul did (Paul in the Bible, you know, not the other one ☺), "I rejoice in my sufferings...". But I can say with confidence that God continues to gently turn my face toward Him and I can't deny that I see God a little more clearly today because of my invisible husband. Who am I to question the ways of God? Sad about it? Yes. Lonely and afraid? Sometimes. Struggling? Not always. Content? Mostly. A work in progress? Amen!! I don't have to understand why God does what He does and allows what He allows. I just have to know that there is no wrong in Him, no misguided intentions, no mistakes, no sin. In Him and Him alone is my hope. I'm so grateful.

5 “It is God who removes the mountains, they know not how,
When He overturns them in His anger;
6 Who shakes the earth out of its place,
And its pillars tremble;
7 Who commands the sun not to shine,
And sets a seal upon the stars;
8 Who alone stretches out the heavens
And tramples down the waves of the sea;
9 Who makes the Bear, Orion and the Pleiades,
And the chambers of the south;
10 Who does great things, unfathomable,
And wondrous works without number.
11 “Were He to pass by me, I would not see Him;
Were He to move past me, I would not perceive Him.
12 “Were He to snatch away, who could restrain Him?
Who could say to Him, ‘What are You doing?’  (Job 9:5-12)


Who indeed! Enough deep thoughts for one day. Right now, I'm hoping I sleep tonight!

"My 2nd Baptism" by Guest Blogger Robert Hager

My dad, Robert Hager, known to many as Papa, has been writing stories for years. For a while, he taught a class about how to write your memoirs in the form of short stories. I thought it would be fun to occasionally feature one of his recollections. 

My Second Baptism by Robert Hager

     Sunday, December 7, 1941! My mother and I had attended Sunday School and the morning worship service at the Monroe St. Methodist Church in Toledo, Ohio. We walked home and ate Sunday dinner. Mother cleaned up the kitchen; then we went into the living room and turned on the radio to listen to the Longine Symphonette. Instead of the music, we heard the awful news of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor which had begun about the time we were singing the closing hymn of the worship service.

     I was only fifteen and a half years old and I thought, regretfully, I'll never be in this war. It'll be over before I'm old enough to enlist. Of course, history proved me wrong. It took the Allied Forces nearly four years to overcome the determined Axis Powers, and on April 24, 1044, five days before my eighteenth birthday, I enlisted in the U.S. Navy. In late 1944 I was a Seaman 2/c aboard the U.S.S. Pelias, a submarine tender, anchored in Pearl Harbor in the Territory of Hawaii.

     By habit, but not much conviction, I attended the Sunday services led by Chaplain Frazee, a devout middle-aged Congregational minister from New England. Every Sunday he would lead us in singing the U.S. Navy hymn, "Eternal Father, Strong to Save." It became on of my favorite hymns, and still is, though it is seldom sung in civilian congregations.

Eternal Father, Strong to Save
   
    In addition to the Sunday morning service, I began to attend an informal Bible Study group because I was invited by a shipmate. We used material supplied by a Christian organization called The Navigators. The Navigators were very strong on Bible memorization. I began to realize that my Christian background, though long-standing, was weak, almost ephemeral. I had attended Sunday School and church all my life because that was what one did in my family, not because of any personal belief in the redemptive powers of Jesus Christ. One night shortly after Christmas of 1944, I said in the Bible Study Group, "I think a person accepts Christ gradually, over a period of time."

  Ray Piper, a study group member said, "Bob, a person accepts Christ, becomes a Christian, because he makes a God-led decision to do so, and a decision is made in an instant of time - not gradually." God had prepared me to hear exactly that kind of statement, and on December 29, 1944, a new name was written down in glory as I bowed my head and said, as St. Thomas did, "Yes, Lord, I believe."

     During the first week of January, 1945, the Pelias sailed for Midway Islands, two little sand piles nearly in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. After arriving at Midway, I began attending services led by Chaplain Nelson, a Captain in the U.S. Marine Corps, and a Southern Baptist from Alabama. Because of Chaplain Nelson's teaching, I came to believe that I should be baptized. I had already been baptized as an infant but that had been the choice of my parents. I felt now that I should make my own decision to be baptized following my earlier decision to commit myself to Christ.

     As the day of the baptismal service approached, I wondered more and more about how I would feel immediately after my baptism. Would I be euphoric? Would I hear angelic choirs? Would I see visions? Would I receive a startling revelation? Would the Spirit of God descend on me in the form of a dove? I thought I might even get a command from God to become a missionary or minister.

     It was a Sunday afternoon in the late Spring of 1945, shortly after my 19th birthday. It was cool and somewhat overcast. The sea was quite calm which made the baptizing easy for Chaplain Nelson. One by one, the men waded into the ocean to meet and be baptized by the chaplain. When I reached the chaplain, he put his arm around my shoulders and turned me to face the shore where the other participants were standing along with twenty or thirty additional worshipers.

     In a voice loud enough to be heard above the surf, Chaplain Nelson asked, "Seaman 1/C Robert William Hager, do you publicly confess that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, and that you have accepted Him as your Savior and Lord? And is it your intent to follow His commands and teachings and to live a godly life as the Holy Spirit enables you?"

     My answer came clearly and resolutely, "Yes, Sir."

     "Then," said the chaplain, "I baptize thee in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen." As he began the word, "Amen," he dipped me under the waters of the mighty Pacific Ocean, surely as thorough a baptism as any Methodist ever received.

     As he helped me to my feet, I thought, now, I'll find out how it feels, but all I felt was cold and wet. I was disappointed. That's it? Where was the euphoria? Why didn't I hear a command? How come the angelic choir missed its cue? I suppose I should have shared my questions with the chaplain, but I didn't. I continued to wrestle with them for a couple of weeks. I'm a slow learner. But, finally one day the light dawned on me. The foundational question was why didn't the experience of baptism match my expectations? The answer? I had faulty expectations.

     The basic reason for getting baptized was not to have some kind of emotional feeling, but to follow a biblical command to make a symbolic public statement of faith. The basic reason for getting baptized was simply to obey. I was at peace. Maybe I did receive a revelation after all, or at least some divine instruction.

   

My Sure Foundation

I read this verse the other morning and it was exactly what I needed. Think about it. "A sure foundation for MY times." I've been pondering retirement lately, or more accurately, the possibility that I will need to work until I keel over at my desk. I'm 62 and the reality is that I need to consider a few things and maybe do a little planning. When I was younger and married, I didn't give it any thought. However, there were certain assumptions made. We would have two incomes for quite a while, then two social security checks, Medicare, a small retirement account, and finally, the option to sell the property and buy something for cash.

My times have changed. Now there is one inadequate income, a future of only one social security check, no retirement account, and a property that could potentially provide for me when I lose my mind as long as I can sell at a reasonable price. Add to that all the controversy and turmoil with the whole medical insurance situation, civil unrest, the struggle that young families have to just survive...the list of worries is endless.

God expects me to be prudent. Trusting Him with my future doesn't mean just sitting down and waiting for a retirement plan to drift down from heaven. After all, death is the only retirement option that is guaranteed to provide for us forever. It's often hard, though, to be prudent and prepared but not cross over to anxious and controlling. Was I trusting in my husband's presence in my life? Was he my old age security blanket? I wasn't conscience of that but maybe I was a bit. At least I wasn't going to be in the struggle alone. But now...?

Yesterday, I heard about a young couple that had money in the bank, cars paid for, good jobs, etc. Then one night they were hit head-on by a drunk driver who had almost no insurance. In the blink of an eye, their lives changed. They were devastated both physically and financially. No amount of planning could have prevented the tragedy. They needed a sure foundation. I need a sure foundation.

I don't have a husband anymore but I am most definitely not alone. In fact, even when I was married, my husband wasn't the foundation on which I should have been basing my life. We are all sinners. Consequently, we all let each other down at times. God is the only foundation on which I can depend. And as if His salvation isn't enough, He also promises "a rich store of wisdom and knowledge." The Bible calls these three things, salvation, wisdom, and knowledge, our "treasure". And, since, I am not the brightest bulb in the box, the Bible even tells me the key to unlock this treasure:  the fear of the Lord, meaning, a reverence, an awe, a respect, a knowing of our God.

So, in these days, when I wonder how I will survive when I'm 75 years old, when I question how I will avoid throwing myself on the mercies of my daughters, when I panic about retirement, I need this verse. I must constantly remember that He is the foundation for my times. I need nothing else. I can completely trust Him to care for me until He decides to release me from the confines and stresses of this world. I need to immerse myself in His Word so that I can unlock this precious treasure.

This isn't easy for me. For too long, I have made it my mission to fix and take care of everybody from my dad to my kids to the family dog. I do some good things. I also drive people crazy. Most importantly, I lose the peace that comes when God is acknowledged as my foundation. He never changes. He always was and always will be my sure foundation. This is truth and it will continue to be truth no matter how I behave. I need to live what I believe. I can't do it under my own power but my gracious God will enable and strengthen and carry me.

Praise God! You are my sure foundation!

Redefining Myself

It might seem odd but today I am reflecting on God's design for marriage and how it works for our good. I say odd because, well obviously, I no longer have a functioning marriage. I do, however, have a previous marriage to think about and while I may sometimes make jokes about all that I can do now that I am single, my desire has never been to be without my partner.

This month marks five years since my husband walked out. I am assuming that most people reading this blog already know the Lord so I am also assuming that we can agree that the primary thing that defines us as Christians is that we are a child of God. That is of utmost importance. But during our brief time on this earth, there are other defining moments that shape our futures and our lives. Marriage is definitely one of those moments and so is parenthood. When our status changes from "single" to "in a relationship" to "married", we begin to redefine ourselves. "I'm Paul's wife". Everyone knew what that meant. And later, "I'm Sarah's mom". These descriptions tell another person a little bit about me and what is important to me.

It is a natural thing for our identity as a parent to change as our children grow into adults. We (theoretically) step back and our relationships adjust as they become more independent of us. This is as it should be. But marriage? By God's design that was never supposed to end except by death. Our commitment to our spouse is a picture of our faithfulness to God and His to us.

This morning, I read a news article about a pastor (now former pastor) who chose to "Live a Year Without God" and blog about it. At the end of his 12 months he has concluded that he "no longer believes in God".

A Year Without God

Now personally, I think it is safe to say that this man never did believe in God. A true follower of Christ would never sacrifice a year of his life for the sake of experimentation. Or would they? We are often derailed by sinful practices but repentance and forgiveness is always an option for us. This man though, is now redefining himself as a non-believer. When he let go of his supposed faith and the title of "pastor",  he needed to replace it with something else. It appears that he is becoming the spokesperson for disenfranchised former "Christians". What does that have to do with me?

For many years I was a wife. It defined me. That wasn't a bad thing. Yes, my status as a follower of Christ was more important but God had called me to be a wife also and for a long time that was my work, my job, my ministry. As such, it provided structure and purpose in my day to day living as well as numerous opportunities to learn more about the character of God (His grace, forgiveness, patience, etc.) and then more opportunities to extend what I was learning to others. After all, you don't live with a person 24/7 without either learning patience or resorting to violence. Marriage is also a protected environment, or should be. I had a partner, a husband who was designed by God to love me and care for me and be loyal and faithful to me and he had that same thing in me.

Fast forward to today. I am no longer a wife though I still feel the loss of that part of me. I think I have been struggling to redefine myself but without an earthly anchor it's been hard. God is so patient with me though. Five years feels like a long time to me. I've often said that I think I should be further along in this whole process. But maybe I am looking at it with clouded vision. I know something about commitment. I was married for a very long time. I also know what it feels like to have that commitment end. As I have moved from simply reacting to the pain to a more balanced place of trust in God, I am realizing that my marriage has hammered home the concept of covenant. If I have suffered this much because of the loss of a husband, if the breaking of his covenant to me has caused this much pain - can I even imagine the pain of a person separated from God? Or can I imagine God's heartache when He is rejected by His creation?

I am secure in my position as His child. I know He will never walk out on me and He will NEVER be unfaithful. But I can still stray from Him. I can wallow in self-pity or give in to an addiction to avoidance or walk away from ministry and think only of myself. I can be unfaithful to God and suffer the consequences. However, because of the devastation caused by the dissolution of my marriage, I am terrified of letting that happen. I understand more fully what God meant by "the two shall become one". The oneness that I desire now is with the Lord. It should have always been that way and at times it was. In the busyness of life though we often are sidetracked a bit by the weight of responsibilities that clamor for our attention and edge out God. These responsibilities are most often God-given, i.e. a husband and children. It's just a struggle to keep our priorities in order. I have no excuse now other than the fact that an inherent pride often subtly keeps my mind on myself instead of focused on God.

So - now that I am no longer a wife - do I need to "redefine" myself? I think not. It isn't for me to do. God's purpose for me is to glorify Him, however He chooses to use me. I need to be willing to do and be whatever He desires. There is certainly freedom in that. I am His responsibility and not my own. But it's a little bit scary too. For my entire adult life I was a wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend. I still am some of those things. Actually, I am still all of those things. But I am more. Above all, I am the daughter of the King and my desire is truly to serve and glorify Him, even though my worldly status has changed. I also need to be "less": Less about me, less about my marriage, even less about my family. The more I put God first the better mom, daughter, sister, friend I'll be anyway so it's a win-win for everyone! I am just Debbie, called by God to slog through this life in victory as His child. It's time for me to get back into the race.