Purity and Truth

Want peace in the home? In your heart? Valuable insight for every family member.

Choosing Life

Jesse Jost

Recently a young father in our community was suddenly taken from this life when his sprayer made contact with an over head power line. He left behind a beautiful wife and two small boys and a whole community searching for answers. How could God let this happen? How dare he break up a young couple like that? Those are tough questions. Losing your life partner ranks near the top of the list of the most painful things that can happen to a human. When God allows a spouse to die, emotions are shattered and God’s goodness is called into question. But this tragedy raised a different troubling issue for me. This same community that is in shock that God would allow a death in a marriage has seen the death of many other marriages. These other marriages were not involuntarily broken apart, rather the death was willingly chosen. No, it wasn’t murder that broke the sacred bonds of matrimony, it was divorce. 

While cancer, car crashes, and earth quakes, bring heart wrenching death and tear families part, there are other forces, more subtle and pervasive, but every bit as destructive that are causing the death of millions of relationships. Among them are anger, harsh words, unforgiveness, and a critical spirit. And while we have very little control over disease and natural disasters, we can choose to protect our relationships from the self-inflicted mortality these poisons bring.

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue,” an ancient sage wisely noted. Words have the power hurt and sever. Thoughtless and cruel comments may seem like mere sound waves, but don’t be fooled these waves can cause destruction that tidal waves can only dream of. Words cannot be retracted and the infection caused by verbal shrapnel can be deadly. “Harsh words stir up anger.” Undealt with anger can lead to hate. The Apostle declares that “whoever hates his brother is a murderer.” Bitterness and unforgiveness can cut off actual involvement in a relationship in the same way a death does. I’ve seen resentment build in a person so much that object of their anger might as well be dead. There is no actual relationship left.  

It’s a sad irony but the very people who worry and fret about their love ones being taken from them by death may simultaneously be slowly killing the relationship. Parents have trouble sleeping at night for fear that something will happen to their child. Yet that same parent will thoughtlessly inject another fatal wound into his relationship with that child by criticism or anger. For me, losing Heidi would be the worst thing that could happen to me. I can’t imagine how painful life would be without her beautiful smiling face in it. Yet, when I am hurt and can do cruel things in return. I give her the silent treatment and become cold to her. Of course I don’t want to kill her but I do want to make her pay.

When there is a rift in a relationship from a wrong action, such as a cutting comment, or physical abuse, there is a debt to be paid. We naturally want to live by the “tit for tat” rule. When we are hurt we want to make sure that person pays the price for their thoughtless action and try to repay them in hurtful ways such as withdrawing emotionally or sarcastic cutting words. There are consequences to wrong actions and we want to make sure that person gets what’s coming to him. The problem with revenge is that it only injects more death into the relationship. It never brings healing.

 But there is hope. Forgiveness can bring life and resurrect a dead relationship. Jesus Christ set an example for us. Our sinful actions had brought a death of relationship between us and God. There were painful consequences for our actions – guilt, shame, and fear, but Jesus voluntarily took those consequences into Himself so that we could go free. He absorbed the damage our sins caused into himself and then went to His Father for healing and restoration. Three days later Jesus rose again fully alive. The cross sets a pattern for us to follow so that we can break the death cycle we humans are caught in.

When we have a wound inflicted upon us by a family member or spouse rather than seek retribution, we can follow Christ’s example and absorb the penalty into ourselves. In essence we choose to forgive by letting go of the desire to see that person suffer for what they did to us. It is not an easy thing to do. Forgiveness will hurt and be costly. But we have a place to go for healing. When we take our hurts to God he can restore us. He can heal emotional wounds and bring wholeness.

It is so hard for us time bound humans to think long term and fully grasp the end results from our actions. When we are angry and bitter our perception becomes totally whacked out and loved ones appear to become our enemies. The person we are angry with is still so precious to us and we would panic if anything were to happen to them. Yet anger distorts that reality and sweet revenge becomes more important. And so, sadly, we inject a little more poison into the relationship, and little by little the relationship slowly dies and ends in a cold courtroom.

The next time you are tempted to punish the one who hurt you, ask yourself if it is really worth it. Imagine a man pointing a gun at the person you are angry with. Do you ask him to pull the trigger or do you try to stop him? This recent tragedy has reminded me of how precious our relationships are. I have no control over the day God will call Heidi home, but every day that I have with her I will fight to protect our marriage from emotional death. My two other treasures, John-Michael and Sophia, are equally precious to me, and the thought of anything happening to them is the stuff of nightmares. Once again their time belongs to God, but as long as they’re alive I want to keep injecting life into our relationship. It won’t be easy, but by God grace I will always choose forgiveness. Always choose life.

Another Hearts At Home article. This one is contributed by Tereasa Mansfield, a mum who shares God’s amazing provision for her and her husband Scott through the adoption process that led them to their new son, Samuel.

God Gave Me Sam

Tereasa Mansfield

I couldn’t believe my ears.  Did the doctor really say what I think she just said?  Her words supported my unspoken suspicions, yet I was surprised.  I was smiling, but I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.  I couldn’t help but wonder if the doctor saw them.  That morning, I walked out of the doctor’s office with a referral for my son to see a diagnostic team.  All signs are pointing toward a disability that will present many obstacles for him and possibly a lot of heartache for us, his parents.  If a diagnosis is received, it will resolve many of our questions.  On the other hand, a diagnosis will bring to surface many more questions.  At times like this, it is natural to research and network, preparing ourselves for future possibilities.  Yet, nothing could prepare us more than reflecting on the past.  Reflecting on God’s faithfulness and awesome providence is the only thing that eases our worries and calms our fears.

While adoption was something we dreamed about, it was a decision we vacillated on for years.  When one was ready, the other wasn’t.  At times, it seemed as though it would never take place.  God had blessed us with one biological son.  We delighted in him and had hopes of raising more.  Yet we had been told that it would probably not happen.  Even when adoption seemed to be our only hope, we were slow to come to an agreement.  After much time in prayer and through a series of significant events, we finally came together on a decision.  We planned to adopt a year and a half later, which should have been in the winter of 2006. In the meantime, we would focus on saving money and choosing an agency, as well as a social worker.

Only three months later, in August of 2005, good friends connected us with an agency in Florida that needed homes for African American babies.  We were told that they did not have a list of families waiting for these babies.  In fact, our friends had been matched with a birth mother the day after completing their home study.  On a whim, I decided to give the agency a call.  I told the receptionist that we were not planning to adopt for another year, but that she could send us a package anyway.

The package came while my husband, Scott, was performing a wedding out of town.  I called Scott to read the letter in the package.  It asked us to hurry up; that they had two babies without forever families who were due before the end of the year.  As I read the letter, both of us began to cry and I said, “Scott, our baby is in Florida.  How will we ever come up with the money in time?”  We didn’t know how it was possible, but we believed that this was where we needed to go and we believed it would happen soon.  We proceeded in faith that God would provide.

The first thing we did was to ask people to pray for us. Then we sold our second car.  We used the money to pay for the home study and to purchase a few baby essentials.  Shortly after, a check came in the mail for $3000.  It was a donation from a family that had heard our request and wanted to help.  We were completely humbled by their gift and amazed by God’s graciousness!  September came and went.  By October, our home study was complete, every bit of paperwork had been filed, and our birth mother book had been sent to the agency. In the paperwork to the agency, we wrote, “Give us the one who needs us.”  Then we waited.

November came and nothing was happening.  We didn’t have enough money to cover the adoption and our one car was giving us fits.  We decided that I should find a part time job.  Even with my new job, we still didn’t know how we’d pay for the adoption.  Then, the elders of our church called us into a meeting.  My immediate reaction was to worry.  My mind went to the worst possible scenario: Something had gone wrong and Scott was going to lose his position. I have a terrible poker face: lip biting always gives me away.  One of the dear elders decided to take advantage of my gullible state and teasingly informed me that I was in big trouble.  Another man told me to stop worrying about money, and to focus on my role as wife and mother.  They told us that the church would pay for the rest of our adoption, including travel expenses.  We were amazed by their generosity.  We had never asked anyone for money.  We had only asked for prayers.  People prayed and God motivated people to give.  One week later, on November 30, 2005, we got the phone call.

In the meantime, God also provided what my heart needed.  While we were waiting to adopt, I spent a lot of time praying for our baby and the birth mother. In the beginning, I was willing to adopt any baby as long as its birth mother had taken care of herself.  As time went on, God softened my heart to adopt the baby who needed us most. My husband, in his firm faith, was already at that point and helped me along the way. The pictures he showed me of children with their stories of loss were a direct route to my heart. In my most private prayers, God was also softening my heart toward birth mothers.  I was secretly sad for our baby’s mother.  I wanted to adopt, but I didn’t want to take a baby away from a young, naive woman.  I didn’t know what to ask God for, but I begged him to take care of this for me.  I don’t fully understand God’s answer to my prayers and I probably never will.  I do know that in my prayer time, he was preparing me for Samuel.

It is my prayer that Samuel will someday share his side of this story.  It is a touching story, which testifies again to God’s greatness. For now, I have chosen to save Sam’s beginning for him to share.  Yet I can tell you that he was in the care of a social worker who had placed several babies with a Christian adoption agency.  He was then in a Christian foster home for three weeks before he was laid in our arms. Samuel’s story is not exactly like the prophet’s, but he is a clear answer to prayer.  God heard the prayers of many people and orchestrated a wonderful plan to bring Sam into our home.

I wonder how many moms have one baby and think they know everything about taking care of little ones.  I thought I knew more than enough after having one.  I could make my cranky baby happy and managed to have him sleeping through the night very early.  Everything happened when it was supposed to.  As my oldest son grew up, we continued to move in sync.  Things were not perfect, but I was convinced that motherhood was fairly easy.  Then Samuel came along and taught me to stop relying on myself.  He was such a sensitive baby and screamed a lot.  It seemed like there was always something to figure out.  I learned very early on to pray continually.

Feeding Samuel was one of the things that did not come naturally. He was taking close to an hour to finish four ounces of formula and seemed to be spitting most of it out.  I switched formulas, tried using bottled water and was about to switch formulas again when God opened my eyes. After another long bottle, I laid Samuel down to change his diaper and then hurry off to an appointment we were now late for.  He screamed as soon as his back hit the floor.  I pulled him up and he stopped. I laid him down again and I saw pain in his face as he began to scream again.  It was the same scream he had while taking a bottle.  I asked, “God, does my baby have heartburn?”  I had never heard of reflux in infants, but soon found out that it was true and that Samuel needed medication.  We put a wedge under Samuel’s crib mattress and I set to work making a sling to hold him upright while sleeping.  I learned how to burp him without causing pain.  Within days, Samuel was able to finish a bottle and showed us that he was actually a child with a huge appetite!

Looking back, there were many challenges we faced during Samuel’s first year. God continued to provide, giving me patience and understanding, as well as helpful friends and family.  The fun grows right along with our little boy.  I am always on alert, thinking outside the box.  If someone had told me four years ago that I would be given a baby like this, I would have run and cried.  Today, the thought of this sweet child brings me so much joy.

These are just a few tiny pieces of our son’s story.  In preparing for this testimony, I realized that a book would be needed to recount all the ways that God has provided for Samuel.  I would love to have you over for coffee and tell you about it.  We’d have to sit within view of Samuel, as he would give us near simultaneous opportunities to laugh in disbelief of his energy and gasp in fear of his safety. His antics would spur memories of dangerous situations he has gotten into, which I am now able to laugh about. As I pour us a second cup, I would proclaim the passion Sam put in our hearts for adoption, thus leading us to our daughter. I would tell you about the patience God has given me and also the strength I needed in the midst of my weaknesses.  He has used this child, as well as my other children, to shape me in ways I never imagined possible.  Over and over, he has proven his faithfulness.

As I reflect on all these things, I receive strength for today and our current trials.  I am confident that this is part of Samuel’s amazing story.  He has been blessed with a wild heart, which will fan a flame in the kingdom of God.  He has also been given an incredible capacity for love, which will touch many lives.  His timidity keeps him safe from strangers who would lead him astray.  If he receives this diagnosis, he will be made humble and dependent on God’s family.  Along with the diagnosis will come many special gifts which will be used by the one who created Samuel. God will provide. He always provides.

My first ”Hearts at Home” guest post is shared by Betsy Schultz. If you are a daughter or a dad, please take a minute to read Betsy’s story – it is heart-wrenching… and inspiring. 

Finding Father-Love

Betsy Schultz

She looked down into the warm, foamy depths of her coffee mug. Her shoulders slumped wearily and her eyes, though defensive, were tired. “I know I need to talk to Dad about it all, but…” here she gathered herself together, shrugging her weariness off with a laugh “you know how that goes!” My jaw tightened and I looked away. How could I tell her what was swirling through my heart? I wanted to give her the answer she was hungering for – but I knew she wasn’t ready for the message she needed to hear.

 I was inches away from taking her by the shoulders, shaking her and saying “You have no idea, do you?! How can you shrug off the most vital person in your life? How can you laugh about a habitual area of miscommunication that could be your biggest joy and safeguard? How can you ignore something so precious, beautiful and powerful? How can you put off talking with your dad when…when in one moment you could forever lose that opportunity forever?”

 I’ve never yet had the courage to say all that. But in the three years since my own dad died suddenly, I’ve been tempted countless times. When I see girls taking their relationship with their dads lightly, a cold chill runs through me. They might not know why I become silent and partially withdraw from the conversation continuing on around me, yet I can’t help it. Their casual words touch a deep, tender, still quite raw place in my heart and my mind travels back to my dad, the relationship we enjoyed, and how I would give anything to still share my life with him.

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As the youngest of three girls, I was my dad’s right hand man.  I joined him every chance I could, getting in on carpentry, splitting firewood and any other project he had going. I loved being with him, not only because of the work but also because I loved seeing his life in action. He was respected in our community for his walk with God, and my heart always swelled with daughterly pride as I listened to him share wise counsel or gentle comfort.

But it wasn’t all fun and games. Actually, in all honesty, it was never a game. Dad was a strategic, highly driven man and while I knew he loved me, I never felt I rose to his expectations. And I labored under that load for years. I didn’t realize how much of a burden this pressure to perform was until just three years ago when Dad came to me and apologized for how hard he’d been on me. He asked me to forgive him for not providing a place in his heart where I could just run and be protected. He’d wanted my life to be good and right and he’d shot down my heart so often that I didn’t really feel safe with him.  He said he wanted his heart to be a place where I could come cuddle up. I was stunned. I’d never heard anything like this before in my life!

This is the point in any good testimony when the writer wraps things up and says that they went on living happily ever after. But that’s not real life. My dad could say all that to me, but there were twenty-two years of past actions that suggested the opposite. How could I know that his heart was really trustworthy? Why should I assume he had truly changed over night and that he really would be gentle with me? Did I dare share my heart with him? He’d not understood very well in the past – why would he now?

 That’s when my Heavenly Father took over. I had joined Dad for a day of being alone in the wilderness, just spending time with God. Out in the silence of mountains and trees, my Father began speaking to me.  He showed me that most of my problems in my relationship with Dad, mirrored those in my relationship with Him. Sure, I knew God loved me, but I felt I was never good enough to live up to His expectations of me. I never sensed that He really truly understood my heart and emotions….and why ever would I want to share my deepest dreams with Him?! What if they were wrong? But my kind Father gently, carefully told me of His heart that day. If my dad wanted to have a place in his heart where I could run and cuddle up, wasn’t it true that my Father had that place already, and was simply waiting for me to come there? I didn’t have to fix my problems on my own or spruce myself up before coming to Him, I could just run there, and He would take care of me.

 Old habits die hard. It’s one thing to talk about running into God’s heart, but it’s another thing entirely to do it. And the same was true with my dad. He could still look very stern sometimes, and I wasn’t completely convinced he would understand me or be able to handle my sometimes volatile, emotional state.  So I was left with a choice – would I take Father and Dad at their word? Every child is formed with a nearly desperate desire to experience the love, protection and strength of a father, and I couldn’t hold back.

 Dad and I both made plenty of mistakes. He could still push my buttons and I was still bound by unreasonable fears. But together we gradually entered into a new level of relationship. I began going to him with questions, concerns and dreams. He, on the other hand, began to trust me implicitly as he realized I would tell him everything. Not only did he trust me, but as he became aware of my dreams, he did all in his power to make those dreams come about.

 That was an odd season of life. I was ready to move on, delve into politics or law or counseling or…anything but everyday life at home! But somehow it wasn’t the right time. Subconsciously I knew it was my chance to invest in Dad and his ministry (as speaker and author) and while it didn’t make sense and I took some flack for it, I knew it was right.

 Then came June 6^th, 2008. Dad was speaking at a convention in Chicago and had just finished one of his messages. I joined him at the stage and listened to him as he chatted with people. The room cleared and he wearily sat down on the stage, talking with the one man who remained.  He suddenly tensed up, his body struggling for each breath; his eyes became vacant and glassy. Then he collapsed.

 As I saw his graying face and gently touched his hair, pleading “Daddy….Daddy wake up” I intuitively knew my dad, my hero, my protector, my stability, was gone. Forever.

 I had no idea what my journey of grief would be like, and it’s been pretty wretched. The suddenness, the horror, the ripping, grinding, shredding of my heart was nearly more than I could endure.  Yet even there, in the lowest, most horrific times of pain and loss, I could never say I was fatherless – for who has promised to be the Father to the fatherless? God Himself. And He has never let me down.  The night after we were told Dad would never wake up again, I sat hunched in our hotel room writing…. A sense of great peace has came over me as I realized that because of the relationship I had with my dad, and of learning to be vulnerable with him, the transition to relating to my heavenly Father as my current protector and comforter will be seamless. There have been many long, hard days since, but my confidence in my Daddy-God’s love and intimate care has never faltered.

 I know there are girls who could say I have no idea what I’m talking about – I had a great dad, how could I know what they face as they’ve been abused by their fathers or have a dad who has abandoned them or one who is emotionally absent. And they are right. I don’t understand. But I do know God is and longs to be our Daddy-God even there, and He will do it if we at all respond to His invitations and run headlong into His heart.

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 Tears sting my eyes as I think of my friend at the coffee shop. These are the words I’ve longed to share with her and countless other girls I’ve watched who are spurning or at best, ignoring the very relationship that can provide more than they imagine. Though we can be lulled into ‘life as it has always been,’ it won’t always remain so. Our lives can be dramatically altered in one single moment. I long to ask…Are you satisfied with the relationship you have with your dad? If you knew he would die today, is there anything you would want to tell him? What about your Daddy-God? Do you see Him that way? Do you trust His heart toward you?

 May God give each of you the courage and vulnerability to intentionally cultivate a relationship with your dad where he can say in nearly his last breath “I don’t know any other father and daughter who enjoy the relationship we do.” And may you see the safe, welcoming heart of your Daddy-God held open to you and may you run there, coming to know Him more fully, deeply and intimately than ever before.