Ask Good Questions

"Ask good questions."

That's my friend Anita's recipe for relationship success. Posing thought-provoking questions, rather than making blanket statements, declarations and imperatives, leads to better communication, Anita swears, especially when parents are conversing with adult or nearly adult children.

I put this theory to the test recently, when my 20-year-old son opened up to me about his life. We startedout sharing a cup of coffee and, before I knew it, were deeply ensconced in the type of discussion parents dream of, once their too loquacious grade schoolers turn into reticent teens. I gnawed my tongue mercilessly, gulping more decaf when advice threatened to tumble out unbidden. I used every trick taught to first year psych students, including reflecting, affirming, and non-judgmental listening. I used phrases like, "It sounds like" and "So you're saying," rather than my well-worn "Don't you think?" and "If I were in your shoes..." In short, I hogtied my maternity, and took the stance of an objective, non-partisan automaton.

And I asked good questions. I wondered aloud what his feelings were about the issues on the table, and what options he saw for himself and others in his sphere of influence. Those questions gave way to more questions and, surprisingly, more unleashed confidences.

Just when I thought I would asphyxiate if I had to hold in any more life-saving counsel, my adult son asked me a good question:

"So... what do you think?"

"The purposes of a person’s heart are deep waters, but one who has insight draws them out." Proverbs 20:5

Thirty-seven Cents

Last night at prayer meeting, our leader told the story of a woman who donated a paltry 37 cents to a cause calling for big bucks. It was what she could afford -  no, probably more than she could afford. She thrust the four thin coins joyfully into the hand of the collector, along with a prayer of thanks to the Provider.

And all of heaven sang.

"So let each one give as he purposes in his heart, not grudgingly or of necessity; for God loves a cheerful giver." 2 Corinthians 9:7

"Now Jesus sat opposite the treasury and saw how the people put money into the treasury. And many who were rich put in much.  Then one poor widow came and threw in two mites, which make a quadrans.  So He called His disciples to Himself and said to them, “Assuredly, I say to you that this poor widow has put in more than all those who have given to the treasury;  for they all put in out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty put in all that she had, her whole livelihood."

Mark 12:41-44

Keeping My Side of the Street Clean Part 3

Almost two years ago I had a falling out with a neighbor over a trivial issue. Tempers flared, and things were quite chilly for awhile. I blogged about it at the time, vowing to do my part to repair the damaged relationship. It was hard to be civil when I felt wronged, and eventually we did have to duke things out a bit. Thankfully, the Lord spoke to me through some Peacemaker books, which explained the Biblical methods of resolving conflict. Things have been improving ever since, and I'm thrilled to report an incredible side effect of my obedience to God.

First let me relate a story a friend once shared. Like me, she had clashed with a neighbor. Not surprisingly, they weren't speaking after the argument. My friend felt terrible about the situation, and prayed for guidance. Shortly thereafter, she found a greeting card which summed up her position without apologizing, which was important to her because she truly felt the other person was in the wrong. The message inside urged reconciliation without taking the blame. She added simply, "Peace," then signed her name. Not long after sending the card, her young son had an accident and had to be taken to the emergency room. At this point in the story, my friend broke into a grin, stating, "Guess who his nurse was!" She went onto say that, while the neighbor never acknowledged the card directly, she did everything she could to make the ER experience as stress-free and comfortable as possible. What a testimony to the benefits of making the first move!

Getting back to the issue with my neighbor, I experienced a similar result. As we all know, the Northeast was hit by a doozy of a hurricane over the last couple of days. During the worst of it, a huge limb broke off a tree on my street, landing right behind my son's pickup truck. I watched wordlessly as he went over to move his vehicle, lest any other rogue boughs might decide to come crashing down on his investment. From her porch my neighbor saw what he was about to do. Suddenly she cried out, "Aaron, be careful! A power line might have come down with that limb!" She suggested a safer alternative to his backing up over the downed branch. His oblivious mother might have witnessed his electrocution, but for the quick-thinking advice of a former foe. I decided then and there I'd rather have a standoffish neighbor who comes through with the big stuff than a "hail-fellow-well-met" sort who might've let my son walk into destruction.

We don't often get such a meaningful payoff for doing the right thing. We may never know this side of heaven why He asks us to be peacemakers, especially when our attempts at reconciliation may be ignored or mistaken for weakness. I guess obedience without understanding is the essence of faith.

For more like this, check out: Morsels for Meditation...: Keeping My Side of the Street Clean

Morsels for Meditation...: Keeping My Side of the Street Clean Part 2

Moses Revisited

It's been way too long since I blogged. Then I get out of the habit and it feels like a burden... when really, it's a privilege.

What's been on my mind is how like Moses I am. When he was asked - commanded, actually - to put the squeeze on Pharaoh to let God's people go, he resisted. His first objection was basically, "Why me? What have I got to offer?" (Exodus 3:11). When God assured His servant that He would be with him every step of the way, Moses worried that he wouldn't have answers to the questions he might be asked. Again, God patiently addressed Moses' concern. Still not satisfied, the shepherd who had miraculously been rescued by none other than Pharaoh's daughter (during a blood bath her father had launched against male Hebrew babies) fretted that his audience might not believe him. The Lord, doubtless weary of His servant's unbelief and unwillingness to take on what He had equipped him to do, let loose a couple of miracles to remind Moses with Whom he was allied.

Incredibly, Moses was not through arguing! He next protested that he wasn't eloquent enough to persuade Pharaoh (Exodus 4:10). Here is where I get the chills, as the God of the universe takes responsibility for the full gamut of human capability, ranging from the deficient to the extraordinary:
 
"So the Lord said to him, 'Who has made man’s mouth? Or who makes the mute, the deaf, the seeing, or the blind? Have not I, the Lord?  Now therefore, go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you shall say.'" (4:11)

I'm astonished that this patriarch, born of God's chosen race and adopted into Egyptian royalty, still continued to doubt he had the credentials to do this job. Had he realized how much courage it took to contend with almighty God, surely he would have seen the ludicrousness of fearing an earthly king.

Yet, after all God's reassurances, underscored by physical signs of just what He was capable of, Moses begged God to send someone else, anyone else (4:13).

I was recently called by God to plead a cause of my own to a human authority. At first I tried to worm my way out by denying evidence that was right before my eyes to avoid getting involved. The Lord was relentless, and refused to remove the commission. I then sought to ally myself with others so I wouldn't have to face the situation alone. When it became obvious I needed to accept the challenge with only God (did I just say only God?) to accompany me, I spent hours preparing and rehearsing what I would say.


At the heart of my behavior was cold fear. The situation had triggered the memory of a similar experience in which I had been belittled, mistreated and outnumbered. I didn't want that to happen again. In addition, I've always considered myself a poor verbal debater; I'm exponentially more comfortable trying to persuade unknown readers out there than real live hearers right here. I pretty much relived Moses' conversation with God, with about as much success. In the end I limped into the meeting with nothing but heavenly armor covering my knocking knees, and emerged to sing praises to the Lord who did exceedingly abundantly, above all I could ask or think, according to His power (Ephesians 3:20), that did indeed work through this quivering clay vessel.

How dare I be amazed.

Check out Chris Tomlin's Our God

God Rather Than Men

I've been reading the story in Acts where the apostles are imprisoned by "the powers that be" for sharing their faith. No sooner are they miraculously rescued by an angel, than they receive instructions to jump right back into action again.

I don't know about you, but if I had just been sprung from jail, the last thing I'd want to do is head back to the same place I'd been arrested to commit the same offense. Unhesitatingly, the text seems to indicate, they obey. I have to wonder, though, if in their humanness they didn't blurt out, "You want us to go where? And do what? Remember what just happened to us? You just took us out of the frying pan, and now You want to hustle us right back into the fire? Something's wrong with this picture!"

I've had some large-ish trials this past year - nothing close to what the apostles faced in the first century - but enough to send me to my knees more often than when things are humming along at a normal pace. I've endured some pretty sticky dealings with "powers that be," and found them pretty intimidating. When we read the account in Acts, the religious leaders, at least to my mind, don't sound all that scary. We are only privy to a few lines of dialogue, and the apostles seem to come out on top in every confrontation. They don't appear to flounder for words, or think of things they should have said two days later, like I do. But I'm willing to bet if we could get inside the minds of Peter and the gang, we'd see they were just as petrified as we are about going up against the "big guns."  I would further surmise that the high priest and his cronies could hold their own in a debate, and shred a fisherman like Peter with a few clever sentences. After all, they were the leaders of the Sadducees, the conservative Jewish ruling body of the day. They would have been powerful, wealthy and well educated. Most of  the apostles were humble tradesmen. What business did they have going up against such an influential assembly?

To put a modern spin on the type of situation the disciples were facing, imagine being "invited" to a meeting with management to discuss some "issues" with your work performance. You enter a conference room with a table long enough to seat the Partridge Family, the Brady Bunch and everyone on Walton's Mountain. You're escorted to a high backed leather chair by men in Armani suits holding laptops which click incessantly as they interrogate you. You yearn for a cheesy poster or piece of fluff art to break some of the formality; all that meets your eye is a dead-white dry erase board and ceiling projector, both of which seem to scoff at your desperate situation. You feel helpless, overwhelmed, and without a prayer.

That's where you're wrong. There's always a prayer, and it's the smartest (and sometimes the only) thing to do in such circumstances.

The disciples knew that key fact, and they ran with it. Their courage came from none other than God Himself, in the form of the Holy Spirit, which descended upon them on the day of Pentecost. And yes, absolutely, the same help is ready, willing and able to be tapped by timid believers like me in today's global, post-modern world. I know this because, on more than one occasion, he has un-tongue-tied yours truly, whose tendency is to stutter and stumble when feelings of inadequacy kick in, and whose debating skills are - well, let's just say lacking.

Not only that, but He sends help from unexpected sources. Looking back at Acts 5 again, we see that the apostles' case was pleaded by none other than a Pharisee, a member of the rival religious group to the Sadducees, and certainly no friend to the early Christians. It was the persuasive and self-serving argument of Rabbi Gamaliel which prompted their accusers to let the apostles off with a flogging and a warning. They didn't get away unscathed, and we may suffer some fallout, too. There is precedent, though, for believers to anticipate deliverance and unusual means of assistance.

I personally have experienced God's creative methods of intervention many times. Last spring He "sprang" me from a dangerous and hostile situation in a way I couldn't possibly have predicted. Years ago, when my husband was in medical school and we needed every cent we could lay our hands on, God guided me to resign a part time day care job. My son was a toddler at the time, and he accompanied me to work. He was becoming increasingly jealous of the attention I had to share with his peers; every shift was becoming a combat zone, leaving both of us exhausted and angry with one another. While I knew unequivocally it was time to leave, this was insanity from a financial point of view. A week later, a better, more lucrative child care position, which included a separate classroom for my little boy, fell into my lap through no effort on my part. As such evidences mount up, so does my assurance that He can and will protect and often rescue His people from the perils which assail us.

Count on it.

For more like this, check out: Morsels for Meditation...: Deliverance

Morsels for Meditation...: Deliverance Part 2, AKA, Jurassic Park Revisited

Fear

Someone dear to me is battling addiction, a nasty, vicious harmer of body and soul. And I don't just mean the addict's. I find myself raging at the compulsion that has reduced a once robust individual to a far frailer version of himself. I succumb to the vengeful act of setting unreasonable boundaries at times, causing shame and humiliation, where calm detachment would better serve. I rant rather than reserve comment, offering ultimatums instead of understanding.

The basis for this worthless haranguing? None other than cold, terrifying fear. Fear of losing the fight, i.e., losing the fighter. Fear that all my efforts were in vain. Fear that, in the end, I really am powerless over another person’s choices.

Yesterday it was suggested to me that a better tack would be to buoy up the struggler, really get behind him, assuring him of my faith in his ultimate conquest of the monster within. Oh, and by the way, it would help if I actually meant those cheerleading words. I rolled my eyes mentally. How many times could I be expected to come alongside this person, knowing he had relapsed time and again? After all, everyone knows “seventy times seven” is just hyperbole, right?

But desperation breeds willingness. Willingness to hope when hope is ridiculous. When all sane measures have been exhausted - when every reasonable door has been tapped on, banged on, busted down, and still another lock prevents entry to freedom – hope in its simplest form is disguised as perseverance.

So I instructed my tongue to form words of encouragement. It was merely a rote exercise, like forcing myself to get out of bed despite my body’s demands for R&R. I started small, murmuring comforting words, more to myself than to the sufferer. I worked up gradually to specific instances of overcoming, any victories I could hearken back to, reminding us both that success in past endeavors might well suggest hope for the future.

Ever so slightly, like the sun cracking open the curtains of night, my prattle took on meaning. At some point I noticed I meant what I was saying. Before I knew it, I no longer had to reach for examples of victory; they were there for the taking. Because this person really is a wondrous, accomplished individual, made in God’s image; why shouldn’t he experience deliverance?

Sometimes you’ve just got to shake your fist – I mean, Fist - at fear, and show it who’s Boss.

  

Looking Up

I have a beautiful new bedroom. The walls are pale lavendar, the trim a creamy white. Thus far, I have managed to keep it uncluttered (no small achievement for a packrat like me). A dear friend contributed magnificent, lacy curtains (not to mention, expensive), right off her own windows, because she knew how much I loved them.


The one thing that is not so aesthetically pleasing is the floor. As the painting progressed, I toyed with the idea of fully carpeting the room; therefore, I allowed the painter to be less than careful as she worked. In addition, the floor has some nasty scarring, the result of furniture being moved without necessary caution. I selected a lovely sculpted area rug (sage green) that covers most of the unsightliness, but it's there, and I know it.

At the risk of over-spiritualizing (if there is any such thing - after all, God calls us to think about Him every day in every way, Deuteronomy 6:6-7), I think there's a message here. When I look around my room, I'm struck by the glorious, soothing colors, and the way the whole venue comes together. It really turned out better than I ever imagined. However, when I cast my eye downward, I notice all the flaws. So, being fully aware of the damaged state of the floor, I consciously turn my gaze upward, and with it go the corners of my mouth into a delighted grin, which is as it should be. Why should I allow the imperfections of my living space - whether I'm thinking of my home in particular, or the world at large - to discourage me? When the time is right, I'll tackle the marring, but for now I have every reason to be grateful and joyful. Many loving hands put this room (and this planet) together, and I'd be a fool not to enjoy them.

"Why are you cast down, O my soul? And why are you disquieted within me? Hope in God;

For I shall yet praise Him, the help of my countenance and my God (Psalm 42:11)

"If then you were raised with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ is, sitting at the right hand of God.  Set your mind on things above, not on things on the earth." 

(Colossians 3:1-2)

Sleeplessness

A dear friend offered the following account of her recent bout with sleeplessness. Upon realizing - for the

first time - that God was with her as she struggled with eyes that wouldn't stay closed, she decided to stop fighting it. She invited her heavenly Father to join her, right there, in her insomnia. The pressure off, she relaxed in the night and waited for sleep to come, when and if it would.

"If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,” even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you." Psalm 139:11-12

Check out Michael Card's Even the Darkness is Light to Him

Grade School Heroes

I was picked on as a child.

It started when I befriended a runny-nosed kid named David in elementary school. The school bullies quickly pegged him as under-confident, and they ran with it. Once word got out that he was an easy target, nothing could save him. His mother signed up to be a playground monitor; they teased him behind her back. She invited the whole class to a themed birthday party for him; they ate his cake on Sunday and resumed their cruelty on Monday. My overtures of kindness to this unfortunate boy became fodder for speculation that I liked him. I went down right along with him.

Joy, a minister's daughter who was aptly named, reached out and refused to join in with the others' harassment of me. She wasn't brave enough, as a second grader, to launch a campaign or anything, but she quietly made it known that she didn't share in the prevailing opinion. She was, quite simply, a Godsend.

My social troubles remained throughout the elementary years. I coped by taking frequent "vacations" from school, conjuring up sore throats and nebulous symptoms which my lenient mother let me get away with. Towards the end of those lonely years, God sent Jean into my life. I later learned she stood up for me one day while I was absent and the kids decided to hold a Thea-bashing session. Jean was socially everything I was not – involved, outgoing, and most importantly, well-liked. Her voice held sway. If I didn't gain in popularity, at least the bullies began to leave me alone.

In middle school (or "junior high," as it was known back in the Dark Ages when I went to school), I still struggled to be accepted. My biggest problem, I now realize, was I didn't believe in myself. I trusted that the sneerers and mockers knew what they were talking about. Also, I hadn't yet learned the liberating secret of acting as if. I didn't know that the one with the poker face wins the hand, that I could pretend to be confident, even as I was withering on the inside.

As I struggled with these growing pains, God provided yet another angel, Lisa, who candidly admitted she liked me, but simply couldn't take the risk of letting it be known, lest she become the next victim. I grasped her invisible help like one in quicksand grabs hold of a life preserver. Rescue is not an option; sinking's inevitable, but there's an illusion of hope that allows the drowning person to carry on. Lisa's whispered words comforted and strengthened my flickering self-esteem. I held on for dear life.

So on the eve of a new school year, I offer thanks to these dear souls. Their varying levels of courage did not in any way diminish the gift that each gave me in my darkest hours: the gift of a hand outstretched, however trembling, to one that needed to be held.

"'The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make His face shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the LORD lift up His countenance upon you, and give you peace.'" Numbers 6:24-26

For more like this, check out: Morsels for Meditation...: Grade School Heroes Part 2

Morsels for Meditation...: Lockers and Notebooks...

Morsels for Meditation...: School Bells and Ink Quills

Are We Young... or Are We Sleeping?

Hello, all dozen of you blog readers! You're in for a treat today. My dear friend and prayer partner has offered to guest host our blog today. Take it away, Tina!

Commentary to which Tina is responding:

"We Are Young': The Anthem of a New Generation?

 by John Stonestreet

Earlier this summer, I kept hearing this song with a very memorable sound – and not the “if I can’t get this song out of my head I may jump off a cliff” memorable sound of “Call Me Maybe,” the most popular song of the summer. No; this one reminded me of the rock anthems of the 80s and 90s.

So when I heard a commentator suggest that this song, “We Are Young” by the band Fun, could work as an anthem for the Olympics, I looked up the lyrics.

I already knew the chorus: “We are young, so let’s set the world on fire; we can burn brighter than the sun.”

As someone who often played sports with Queen’s “We Are the Champions” playing in the background, I assumed this was one of those “seize the moment” and “we can do it” songs. But the rest of the lyrics were anything but: “My friends are in the bathroom getting higher than the Empire State” and “If by the time the bar closes, you feel like falling down, I’ll carry you home tonight.”

That’s what setting the world on fire means? Scottish writer and politician Andrew Fletcher was right when he said, “If a man were permitted to write the ballads of a nation, he need not care who writes its laws.”

My friend David Eaton, who leads a terrific worldview ministry for students called Axis, says “We Are Young” is like so many other songs that focus on the here and now: dissociating actions today with consequences tomorrow. Get drunk, get high tonight, but no worries about waking up tomorrow with a pregnant girlfriend, or a drug habit, or being unable to hold down a job.

This sort of postmodern fantasy — that ideas don’t have consequences — dangerously resonates in the minds and hearts of young people. In fact, Rolling Stone called the performance of “We Are Young” the defining singalong moment of one of the largest music festivals this summer.

But the immorality is only part of the problem, and celebrating the drunken bar scene isn’t what bothers me most about “We Are Young.” Most troubling is how this lifestyle is portrayed as not even really meaningful, but as all that’s left because there’s nothing significant to live for.

In fact, another song by Fun called “Some Nights” is no better. The video utilizes something as historically significant as a Civil War battle in order to sing: “So this is it? I sold my soul for this? Well, that is it, guys, and that is all, five minutes in and I’m bored again.”

The rebellion of the past was a way of expressing youthful independence or personal toughness. The rebellion of today is doing anything in order to feel something, to cope with the sickening sense that life is ultimately meaningless.

Ravi Zacharias suggests that God created us with a sense of wonder that is ultimately only fulfilled in the wonder of Him. A generation without wonder, that has lost purpose, is one that needs a new anthem.

But what can we do about it? After all, you say, songs that promote immorality and nihilism have been around for decades. But folks, today’s songs are more blatant and more accessible than ever before. We went from “I want to hold your hand” in the 60s to “I want to sex you up” in the 90s, to lyrics I can’t even mention today.

So please, talk with, not just at, your students about their entertainment. And if you need help, check out the work of Axis. David Eation and his Axis teams are more effective than any group I know in confronting students’ apathy toward ideas. Go to BreakPoint.org, click on this commentary, and we’ll link you to their website. We’ll also link you to today’s "Two-Minute Warning," where I call on Christian professionals and business people to step up to the plate and engage culture.

Because if we don’t, it won’t be long before faith will be banished from the public square.

 Again, that’s my Two-Minute Warning at BreakPoint.org.

As the host of The Point, a daily national radio program, John Stonestreet provides thought-provoking commentaries on current events and life issues from a biblical worldview. John holds degrees from Trinity Evangelical Divinity School (IL) and Bryan College (TN), and is the co-author of Making Sense of Your World: A Biblical Worldview.

BreakPoint commentary airs each weekday on more than one thousand outlets with an estimated listening audience of one million people. BreakPoint provides a Christian perspective on today's news and trends via radio, interactive media, and print.

Publication date: August 16, 2012

Tina Simon’s Response 8/21/12:

Although I agree with the response of John Stonestreet (BreakPoint Commentary) to the song “We Are Young,” I think it is only one part of the story.

How often do we pray for those without Christ? And more than that, how often do we weep? Isaiah says that God collects our tears; if our tears were the rain, then perhaps this is why we have such a drought? When is the last time any of us looked out of a window down onto a crowded street and cried as if our hearts would break for the walking dead? Is it only the young unbeliever who has become complacent and apathetic?


For every trafficked girl, for every beaten wife, for every grandmother sitting alone in a nursing home chair, for every child soldier in Sierra Leone, for every person who has decided drugs or suicide is better than his reality, for every gay man who wants love and finds only AIDS, for thousands dying of starvation and disease in third world countries (who hardly really lived), for every warrior who dies in a myriad of unending wars, for every aborted baby and the hardened hearts that think it is “business as usual,” for every abused child who loves the hands that abused him, for all the money and goods that are consumed in the empty pit of unending pleasure that only gives pain, we should be on our faces before the throne of God. No matter how large the church, it is more than she can handle. Only God through the Holy Spirit can deal with all the weight of this much sorrow, wickedness, and woe.

Let us not harden our hearts. Remember, if we are children of the King, then we live forever; so even those who are old in earthly years are young. Let us cry an ocean over them till we put out the fire that is consuming them.

Yes, we should stand and be counted for what’s right. People need to know that we care about right and wrong. But we should go to Godly war with tears in our eyes and God’s Word on our lips. We need to speak joy and hope in a world that has become cynical, frightened, suspicious, hardened, wary, bored, mocking, disgusted, and hedonistic. As an old Peggy Lee song puts it: “If that’s all there is, my friends, then let’s keep dancing, let’s break out the booze and have a ball, if that’s all there is.”

“If life is only cradle to tomb, then perhaps it is only a Cabaret,” sings Liza Minnelli.

Cynically jaded songs are not new, but choosing them as songs of honor is new. Let’s sing a responding song in the darkness. Let us sing the songs that God gives us in the night: “Day by Day and with Each Passing Moment,” “O Love That Wilt Not let Me Go,” “All The Way My Savior Leads Me...”

For life lived only under the sun which is just vanity and a chasing after wind, are there no tears? There are over seven billion people in the world and the number one problem is loneliness; we should be sobbing. It was not Jesus’ anger that brought us salvation; it was his blood, tears, sweat, and death. With His resurrection, He opened heaven and life eternal for us. Tell of it, sing of it. Life is more than nasty, brutish, and short. Let us speak of heaven, brotherhood, love, faith, hope, joy, our Father, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and all else that is lovely, good, uplifting, and kind. Let us bring the wisdom of Scripture into a world that worships the short-sighted, adolescence, instant gratification, nastiness, and cruelty.

If the righteous King of the universe, who is our brother as well as our Lord and Savior, could give His life for us, surely we can spare some heartache and tears for this generation that is being consumed on the fires of Gehenna. Let’s pray Icharus down from the sun and tell him those who try to get to heaven on their own wings will crash and burn. Let’s “carry them to the throne tonight,” that we might see them in our Father’s home tomorrow.

Is that a choir singing, or is someone just praying them home tonight?

 Check out Keith Green's Asleep in the Light