Newspaper Obituaries

When I read the newspaper, I read straight through, national news, local news, sports, obituaries.  Oh, wait—obituaries.  Yep!  I read some of them, but even if I do not read the obituary I always look at the ages of those who have died.  This has a morbid fascination for me.  How many of them were my age?  How many younger?  How many older?  This past Sunday there were only four my age or younger.  One of those four died in a car accident, one died in a fire.  Out of those thirty-one obituaries twenty-seven of them represented people older than I, many of them in their nineties.

            The next thing I look for is if they just say “passed away” or if they say “went to be with Jesus” or “went to their heavenly home” or something similar.  I know that these expressions do not cover all Christ followers or even that all of those mentioned are Christ followers, but it does suggest that a relationship with the Lord was important.

            Three years ago in the Cincinnati paper I found an obituary that caught me.  It was the obituary of a twenty-week old baby.  His obituary read in part,  “ Owen had varied interests and many hobbies.  He was an avid explorer, and his greatest adventure was searching for the Gruffalo, a fictitious yet very dangerous British fairy tale character.  Among his other interests were going to pumpkin patches, farms, record stores and even bars, where he was never carded.  He loved music and would spend hours dancing with his parents to the lullaby versions of Creedence Clearwater Revival songs and, depending on his mood, the Beatles.  He generally liked music of any sort if it had a good beat.  His other favorite hobby was melting hearts.  He did that only with his smile.  He enjoyed long walks in the woods.  He was always fascinated with the trees and clouds above.  The higher he looked, the happier he was. . . .Everyone who met him wanted to spend more time with him.”  I suspect his life would have been more of the same, if he had lived.  His parents sound like cool people.  They made his short life an adventure.

            About the same time I found an obituary for a man who died at age ninety.

I won’t go into his family, training, jobs, not even the long list of places he served.  But these were the best lines:  “From his teenage years onward, G. C. bent his mind most acutely on studying the Word of God.  His study of the Word led him to have a lifelong abiding faith in the promises of Jesus Christ.  He had a humble heart and was a godly and gentle man of integrity.  G. C. shared the gospel openly and joyously with everyone who came into his life.”  I like that better than, “He/she was of the Baptist faith.”

            I’ve thought about what I would want my obituary to say.  I’m not sure it needs to have a litany of places I’ve lived or jobs that I’ve had or any of those facts about me. I would like my obituary to say that I loved God, my family, people, but most of all I would want to be to be described as that baby, “the higher he looked, the happier he was.”  I want to be happiest when I am looking up and I want my life to reflect that.  I can look around me and be discouraged or overwhelmed, or I can look heavenward and know that this world is not my home.  I am just passing through.  I am looking up.

                                                                        ~~Faith Himes Lamb

Sacrifice of Praise

A few years ago, my granddaughter Becky told me about a Bible study she was using from the book STRONGER by Angela Thomas. I picked it up a few days ago and began it again! Wow! So encouraging!

The theme of the book is that God is stronger than everything, but Angela Thomas also encourages us to draw up close to this Almighty God - the powerful one who created the universe.

The author lists many ways to draw near to the Lord, but I want to focus on and to expand only one thought - the “sacrifice of praise.”

            Hebrews 13:15:  Therefore by Him (Jesus) let us continually offer the sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of our lips, giving thanks to His name.

How can I do this? How can the “sacrifice of praise” draw us closer to our Heavenly Father? I think there are at least four areas that will be affected: our minds, our hearts, our lips, and our actions. Charles Spurgeon calls this “a devout musing upon the subject of the Godhead” which draws forth praise from us.

Our minds - I believe this is where praise begins...focusing on God’s attributes. You can name many more but we acknowledge He is omnipotent, omnipresent, forgiving, loving, strong, ALWAYS watchful (as Joyce reminded us), long-suffering, holy, just............Wow! That is just the beginning. Think on these things. Consider...meditate...

Our hearts - Once we have determined in our minds who this Almighty God is and that we should praise Him every chance we can, then we can say with David in Psalm 57:7 - My heart is fixed, O God, my heart is fixed: I will sing and give praise.

Our lips - I believe our praise has to start in our minds. Then when I meditate on who my Heavenly Father is, my heart becomes full and I have to praise Him with my words...

Psalm 63:3 - Because Thy loving-kindness is better than life, my lips shall praise Thee.

And also Psalm 71:23 - My lips shall greatly rejoice when I sing to You,
and my soul, which You have redeemed.

Back to our beginning verse in Hebrews...adding verse 16:

Therefore by Him (Jesus) let us continually offer the sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of our lips, giving thanks to His name.

 Our Actions - (Verse 16) But do not forget to do good and to share, for with such sacrifices God is well pleased.

If our praise only results in good thoughts and words, that is not enough.  Our actions should show others this Almighty Father and cause us “to do good and to share.” Make a list of people this week you want to touch with your words of praise, your goodness, and your sharing. Let’s do this all year long...not just at Thanksgiving time.

--Maylou Holladay

Sundown

When I was a little girl, I had trouble going to sleep at night. I laid in bed almost every night, always with a light on, and worried about my parents dying. I worried about someone breaking in our house, about something grabbing my arm or leg if it dangled over the side of the bed. I stood beside my mother’s bed many nights asking to lay down with her. My parents tried all the usual things to comfort me, but to no avail. Finally, I just had to work through it, and things eventually got better.

Soon I will be 54 years old. Nighttime is still hard for me. All the troubles of the world loom large when a person is tired, and it’s dark outside. Now I worry about war and danger to my family. What if someone breaks in our house or tries to abduct my grandchildren? What if someone I love dies? Soon as I turn out the light, I feel the anxiety rising. (It doesn’t happen every night, thankfully.) In my heart I cry out, “I’m a child of the light! I don’t like darkness!” I remind myself everything will look better in the morning light.

The LORD graciously gave me these verses that I typed in my phone and keep by my bed:

Psalm 121:3b-8, “…your Protector will not slumber. Indeed, the Protector of Israel does not slumber or sleep. The LORD protects you: the LORD is a shelter right by your side. The sun will not strike you by day, or the moon by night. The LORD will protect you from all harm; He will protect your life. The LORD will protect your coming and going both now and forevermore.” (HCSB)

I know we live in a fallen world, and bad things happen to good people. My childhood worries were realized in the deaths of my mom and dad, but God helped me. When it was time to face difficult things, God carried me through the storms. He is good. He is faithful. We may never know all the ways He has protected us from real harm. So tonight, lie down peacefully and rest. Our loving and attentive LORD will keep watch.

joyce hague

He Took Our Shame

Recent events in my life and recent services at church have me thinking about how much Jesus Christ has done for me. Consider the words of this song we sang in church just this week:

            This the power of the cross:
            Christ became sin for us,
            Took the shame, bore the wrath.
            We stand forgiven at the cross.

Think of someone you have been praying for—someone shackled by sin and wrong choices. Let your mind see the physical pain and the mental anguish that accompanies our fallen condition: the struggle to escape addiction, the missed opportunities, and the knowledge of what might have been. Recall the shame and guilt of your own sin—the things that are public knowledge and the things no one else sees, the things we hope we can keep hidden. This is what Jesus took onto himself for us. All that pain and guilt.

And think of what awful trouble you could have incurred if you had not trusted Jesus when you did. What did he keep you from? Drunkeness? Drug addiction? Prostitution, abuse, murder? If you have not been involved in any of that, it’s certainly not because you’re that good. It’s because of God’s grace in your life. He is the one who saves us from all the sin we committed and all the sin we could have done. And he is the one who took that shame on himself so we wouldn’t have to.

No wonder Jesus cried out in the garden, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me” (Matthew 26:39). But aren’t you glad he also said, “Thy will be done”?

I don’t thank Jesus enough for his great sacrifice, for bearing my shame so I could have this happy existence. He is the only hope for all those who still need to accept his sacrifice. Let’s not let our Lord’s gift go unclaimed and unappreciated. I hope you’ll pray for me to have boldness to give the good news to everyone I can. I’ll do the same for you.

--Sherry Poff

Be Like Jesus

When I was in high school, Lucy, a girl a couple of grades ahead of me, seemed to be a “misfit.” She looked “different,” though I could not say how. She had no friends. My friends were not in study hall with me, so I sat across the table from Lucy. We made small talk as much as allowed, and mostly just studied. Lucy had a problem, but I didn’t know what it was.

One day, with my head down over my book, I heard a small commotion in front of me. I looked up to see the study hall teacher, a sturdy man, behind Lucy with his arms around her in a tight bear hug. I saw Lucy’s eyes roll back in her head. Teacher and student trembled and thrashed violently for a few moments, the teacher struggling valiantly to hold on to her. Shortly she went limp, then took a long breath. Teacher asked, “You OK?” She nodded and he went back to his desk.

I was stunned. I had not known Lucy was prone to violent seizures. But it was just “normal” for her; the teacher didn’t even send her to the nurse.

We have songs with words like, “Be Jesus to someone today,” or “I will be Christ to you.” How do we do that? It must be something more than just, “Be nice.”

The teacher knew what the problem was; I wasn’t even aware of it. He knew the symptoms; I didn’t even see it happening right in front of me. He knew what to do about it; I did nothing. He stepped in and rescued her from the power of her illness and the consequences of it. Had he not intervened, the seizure would certainly have caused her to injure herself. He took a bit of a risk that she would hurt him. I’m sure that was not as great a concern to him as the possibility that his help would fail and she would be hurt in spite of his efforts. He was like Jesus to her; I was just a nice bystander.

All those things Jesus knew about us -- the problem, the symptoms, what to do. And he had the physical and moral strength to do what was necessary. We were suffering from something worse than seizures – he called it death. He stepped in and rescued us far more dramatically than our teacher rescued Lucy.

We can’t “be Jesus” and save people’s souls, but we can help because the Bible tells us the problem, the symptoms and the solution. If we remember the depth of the grace and forgiveness that God gives us, we will want that for everyone. Can we put our arms around someone and offer rescue from the worst malady – eternal death?

--Lynda Shenefield

Justice and Mercy in the Courtroom

In one of William Shakespeare’s lesser known plays, The Merchant of Venice, a young man named Antonio signs a loan with the wealthy money lender Shylock on behalf of his friend who needs the money to woo his love. Convinced he will be able to pay back the loan in time, Antonio agrees to Shylock’s request that the fine not be financial interest but a pound of his own flesh. And while his friend is able to impress and marry the girl he loves, Antonio is not so fortunate. His wealth is bound in his ships at sea, and tragically, the ships founder and sink. Antonio is not able to pay back the loan.

The story climaxes in Act 4 at the trial scene. Shylock, who has been hated and mistreated for being a Jew, sees this as his opportunity to get revenge on Antonio who has called him a dog and spat on him. He is adamant that he is owed the pound of flesh from near Antonio’s heart. He wants justice. A contract was signed and should be followed. Justice must be served. The duke overseeing the trial begs Shylock to show mercy. After all, who could be so cruel as to take a pound of flesh? But Shylock, sharpening his knife on the sole of his shoe, will not relent. He wants the letter of the law, and the duke knows that he cannot overrule a contract.

If you want to find out how this story plays out, you must read it for yourself. We just finished it in my seventh and eighth grade English class. As my students read the trial scene, we talked a lot about justice and mercy. One question I asked them was whether or not Shylock was justified in his determination to take the pound of flesh. Justice must be satisfied, right? The contract upheld? But what about mercy?

The same week that this conversation took place in my classroom, a trial scene was playing out in the news. A year prior, a young woman in Texas had walked into an apartment thinking it was hers, and had shot a young man sitting in his own apartment. He died almost instantly. It was a tragic situation.  As this court case came to a close and the young woman received her prison sentence, the victim’s brother asked to speak. Surprisingly, he offered forgiveness to the woman, extending mercy, stating that if it were up to him, she would serve no jail time. His faith in Christ showed as he urged her to give her life to Christ. He stood up and hugged her as she sobbed in his arms. What a picture of mercy!

At the same time, while also offering forgiveness, the young man’s parents asked for justice. They wanted an investigation of how the court case was handled, and they wanted the woman to be held accountable for her actions. They were gracious but firm in their desire for justice.

As I pondered both the fictional story of Shakespeare and the real-life story in Texas, I was reminded that we have a God of both justice and mercy. We cannot choose one against the other. At the cross, both justice and mercy met as God poured out his wrath in divine judgement for the sins of man. Justice was served; sin was atoned for. Yet here we see the beautiful mercy of the Father and love of the Son as Christ Himself bore that wrath, so that we could be spared. What mercy! And now, for those of us who call ourselves God’s children, we no longer stand under judgment, because the justice has been satisfied. God’s gaze towards us who believe is always one of mercy. Praise the Lord!

As Christ’s followers, we ought to be concerned with justice. We ought to pray for and act for those who are mistreated and abused. We should support our law enforcement and government as they seek to bring about justice for victims everywhere. Yet, imitating our Father, we are not only concerned with justice. We ought to love mercy and be people of mercy who bend out the same grace and longsuffering towards others as our Heavenly Father does toward us.

--Amy O’Rear

Fearfully and Wonderfully Made

I have spent almost two weeks marveling over Ruben Danger Roberts, my first grandson.    He made his appearance October 1, just before midnight.  I got to be there, got to see the miracle of birth from a different side, as I watched my daughter Sarah.  In the last few days I have cradled that boy, talked to him, sung to him, studied him.  I am rejoicing in every quirky expression, every wiggle of his little body, almost every cry.  What a miracle he is.  I want to breathe him in.

“Fearfully and wonderfully made.”  Sarah wore a necklace during his birth with these words.  I have spoken these words over Sarah many times through the years.  And now they are for this precious little one.

Psalm 139:  13-18.  “You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb.  I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Marvelous are Your works, and that my soul knows very well.  My frame was not hidden from You, when I was made in secret, and skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.  Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed, and in Your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them.

“How precious also are Your thoughts to me, O God!  How great is the sum of them!  If I should count them, they would be more in number than the sand; When I awake, I am still with You.”

My thoughts on Psalm 139 have been wandering.  It is easy to look at this baby and say that he is fearfully and wonderfully made.  It is easy for me to look at his mother, Sarah, and say that she is fearfully and wonderfully made.  But shouldn’t I be able to look at myself and say that I am fearfully and wonderfully made?  God knew me, too, before I came out of the womb.  God knew me and He knows me now.  He knows my inward parts; He knows my frame; He knows all my substance.  His thoughts toward me are precious.  I forget that sometimes.

I have taken it even a step further.  God considers every single person fearfully and wonderfully made.  He knows my family and my closest friends; He knows those I have casual acquaintance with; He knows those who are easy for me to love and those who have wounded me.  As a Christ-follower, I must believe that He also loves even these and thinks of them as precious.  That thought should determine those relationships.

Lord, help me to see people as You see them, “fearfully and wonderfully made. . .precious!”

                                                                        ~~Faith Himes Lamb