Bert

Bert shone. When he smiled, he glowed with the light and beauty of the Holy Spirit. I know many people who love the Lord with all their heart and soul. But they don’t shine. Why? I don’t know. But let me tell you about one incident in Bert’s life, many years ago.

Bert was born in Holland, in the 1920’s. By the time the Second World War broke out he was a young, unmarried man working on his father’s farm. His father, as so many godly Dutch, became involved in Resistance work. Eventually, he was arrested and imprisoned for a few weeks. When this hardy Dutch farmer was released , and was home once more, he went to bed and wept for a few days. I don’t think his family ever discovered exactly what had happened during his internment – but, a Dutch father weeping? Most unusual! I have never forgotten that. But that is not Bert’s story, really, This is the incident he was involved in:

One day, a group of young partisans were sent out on a job from Bert’s farm. One, badly injured, found his way back and needed medical care immediately. By early morning, he was packed on a farm wagon under a load of potatoes, enroute to the doctor. Bert was driving, and very conscious of his loud groans. Still, all went well until some young German soldiers asked whether they might hitch a ride, and jumped into the back of the wagon. Bert, of course, was in no position to say no. He had to keep driving both the soldiers and the injured man for several miles. The wounded patriot made not a sound and got to the doctor’s successfully. But I could see Bert’s emotional reaction to the trauma of that drive even fifty years later. He could hardly talk about it. Briefly, his “light” went out.

And it made me more aware of the pain we all carry – even those who have “happy endings”. Bert was marked for life by his experiences during the war. He shone, he glowed, but with a vein, at least, of terror and heartbreak underneath. Life is, in many ways, so very sad.

Come quickly, Lord Jesus! And to Bert: No “Rest in Peace” but, “I know you are resting in peace.” Complete peace. At last. Bert, I am so happy for you!

And while I am speaking of the Dutch experience of war, let me recommend some children’s books dealing with that very thing. These adventures show beautiful faithfulness to God, family, and country, but are never sentimentalized. My boys absolutely loved them when they were young:
First,  “Journey Through the Night” by Anne DeVries
Second,  the series of war stories by Piet Prins-google his name and you will come to them.
Finally, the story of Bert’s family was written up as “A Mighty Fortress in the Storm”. ..Not a child’s book, but interesting!

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My Testimony

I wrote this for my daughter, Susanna, at her request, several years ago. My son, Tim, then used it on his blog, as well. I am posting it here as I realize I have never really “introduced” myself to you. The photo is of me and one of my little granddaughters – now, actually, not so little! – that Tim included. The note at the end is also his…

I am sitting on the Voyageur bus on the way to Lennoxville, Quebec.  I have decided to take a few days and figure out whether or not I can find a reason to continue to live.  If not, I will kill myself.  This is not a hasty or emotional decision.  I simply hate life, the tiresome process of getting through another long and meaningless day.   I feel like Sisyphus of the Greek legends, condemned every day to attempting to roll a huge rock uphill, only to have it roll back again and again.  I can not bear it any longer.

I arrive at the bus station in Lennoxville, and begin the walk along College St. to the university.  I really don’t know why I am here.  I just hope I can think clearly away from home.  I arrive on campus and go along to the hub of the building, the vestibule in front of the theatre.  I am sitting there waiting for Godot, for who knows what.  Along comes someone I know.  It is John Challies.  We were not really friends while I attended Bishop’s.  But we had had some interesting conversations along the way.  We had even gone out on one date. He was always part of the artsy, Bohemian crowd, with a reputation as the campus cynic.  I was more conservative.  He comes right over to me and obviously wants to talk.  And talk he does.  About things I had never heard of before, at least as part of real life – about God and the Bible, about sin and Christ.  What in the world is this?  I listen but I am not happy.  I wish he would stop talking and go away.  I have absolutely no sense that this is the answer to my heart’s cry.  None whatsoever.  Stop it!  The only comment I remember later is one he made toward the end of our time together.  I have shared with him my despair.  He says, Barbara, I think God has great things in store for you…What?…And he extracts a promise from me to go and have dinner with him two nights later. I don’t want to, but I am polite and say I will.

Later that day, I go for a walk in to the countryside around the campus.  My feelings of absolute despair completely overwhelm me.  I am a very idealistic girl and all I want in life is to know why I am alive and to fulfill my inmost desire to be a “good person.”  But I don’t have answers and I am not good.  That I am sure of.  Moreover, I cannot change.  What I am, I am inexorably.  This awareness of the evil in me, the evil in others, and my inability to control it, has been with me for years.  It has terrified and terrorized me.  I know I am capable of any evil.  I know others are, as well.  When I share this knowledge with others, they assure me this is not true.  I am not evil.  I am good.  Other people are not evil.  They are good, too.  Great.  I am not only evil – I don’t doubt that – but I am also crazy.  I see life completely differently than others. I sit down in the snow, on my big afghan coat, and I cry out “Help, help, help” to the sky.  Then I wend my way back to the college.

The next day, I hear that there is going to be a Roman Polanski film shown in the theater tomorrow.  Great!  I love dark themes.  I am looking forward to that.  Then I remember.  I have promised John that I will go to his house for dinner.  Oh, well.  No big deal.  I will tell him I can’t.  I am sure to run into him some time today.  I go up to the student union for coffee.  While I am there, sure enough, in comes John.  I drink a little more coffee and then decide it is time to break my date with him.   I get up to walk over to his table when something sweeps over me.  It is the determination to do what is right.  I will not cancel our dinner plans.  I will keep my word.  This takes me by surprise…It is unlike me.  Much as I have longed to be a good person, it has made little difference to my actual behavior.  This is what has crushed me.  But I don’t think too much about it.

Finally it is Wednesday night and I am at John’s.  We talk throughout dinner but, as far as I know, the words are blah blah blah blah.  Still, at the end of the meal, he asks me whether I will go with him to meet some of his friends.  I say I will, but before leaving I ask his roommate whether or not he believes in God.  No, he says.  I don’t either, Geoff….We trudge through the snow to a small house tucked away behind the main street of Lennoxville.  We ring the bell and it is answered by a girl about my age, named Bernice.  She lives in this house with a young married couple who are studying French in Sherbrooke.  Her fiance and grandmother are there visiting.  As I sit down in the living room, she asks me a simple question.  How am I?  She gets a long answer, a real answer.  I am not fine.  As a matter of fact, I hate life and everything about life.  I am in total despair.  She just listens and listens.  Her grandmother is sitting in the corner and she seems to be praying.  What is she praying about?  Then down comes Bernice’s fiance, Steve.  He starts to explain the gospel to me.  I don’t say a word.  I just listen.  Am I hearing properly?  He agrees with me about evil – the evil in me and other people.  He says this is a problem not just for me, but for God.  Well, it should be, shouldn’t it?  Now he goes on to say there is a solution to evil.  What?  A solution?  That has never, ever crossed my mind.  So that is why Jesus had to die.  I had never considered that Jesus had to die.  I thought it had just happened.  And why?  I didn’t know.  All I know about that is that Dad sometimes says, “There was only one good man and they killed him.” But now it seems I am one of “them”.  Fair enough.  I am.  Steve turns to me and asks me whether I want to ask Jesus to be my Saviour.  For a second I think about it.  I could say no and continue to be the center of attention longer.  That would be kind of nice.  But I hear a voice speaking in my heart.  It says, If you do, Barbara, I will take you at your word.  So I say yes.  That very moment there is an almost tangible feeling of something like a paintbrush whitewashing me inside.  I can feel my sin being covered.  And there is something filling the room.  What is it?  Hard to identify it.  Why, I know.  It is joy!   I say, He is happy about this, isn’t he?  And Steve answers that the Bible says there is joy in Heaven when one sinner repents.  Well, I am a sinner, I have repented, and I feel that joy.  Steve tells me I have been born again.  Born again?  What is that?   I have never heard the term but it seems to fit what has just happened.

And so my new life begins.  I get married to John a few months later.  We have five children who grow to love the Lord.  Then we have eight grandchildren.  God did indeed take the one who was desolate and place her in a family.  And this twice-owned woman – owned by creation, then by redemption – looks forward to praising and serving Him forever.

 *Note: Mom wrote this two years ago and since that time, 3 more grandchildren have been added to the clan!:)..(And again, two more!)

But Insanity is Good

My mother-in-law was an interesting woman – strong and opinionated. Interestingly, when I asked her about her own child-raising years, she had little to say. Her response was, “ All I remember was being tired – all the time.” And I am sure all moms can relate to that. But, now that I am also a matriarch, when I look back it is a little different. I certainly do recall the fatigue, the regular fatigue of dealing with constant needs superimposed on chronic insomnia. Oh my! But mostly I remember bone-crushing guilt and discouragement. In some ways, these two can hardly be separated, but I am going to try. Even though I suspect guilt is the more volatile component of mothering, and leads to the discouragement, still, it is discouragement I want to deal with briefly today.

I speak with discouraged moms almost every day. There are several in my own family. Their unanimous voice is that the good things they are doing in their children’s lives simply aren’t working. The Bible stories are going in one ear and out the other. The discipline is not effecting behavioral change. The heart-to-heart spiritual talks, though initially well-received, ultimately seem to go into a vacuum.

Have you heard the pithy definition of insanity? It goes something to the effect that “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result”? I would say that, for us as Christian mothers, this has to be turned on its head. The whole trick of faithful motherhood is to continue on with what doesn’t seem to be working. In hope -biblical hope- that God will eventually bless us with the good things we seek to work into our children’s hearts. I guess this is one way in which we can be “out of our minds” with the apostle Paul!

Younger sisters and brothers, as I said, I remember the discouragement so well. One of my most vivid pictures of our family life is the supper hour. John, me, our five children – and often an extra or two – sitting around the kitchen table after our meal. John would read the Bible, then a. passage from the Westminster Catechism – and the fun would begin. The children were not overtly rebellious – they would not have dared to be. But kids can speak volumes without words, can’t they? Click, click, click, click, click – the sound of five minds switching off! Glazed eyes! Bodies stiff and resistant….It broke my heart. We have so much to teach you guys and you just won’t listen! We did not have spiritual prodigies in our home. And the formal training so often seemed so much less effective than the informal.

But we persevered. The perseverance of the saints! And God’s words took lodging in their hearts, in spite of themselves. And now they walk with the Lord and are training their own little ones. The insanity continues! And I thank God for it!

Old and New

Doesn’t it seem to you like a whole lot of theological problems could be avoided by simply understanding the basic intentions of the Old Testament as compared with the New? When my kids were little, I homeschooled them for a year or two. I remember seeing for the first time this useful little rhyme in a textbook:
The New is in the Old concealed.
The Old is in the New revealed.
And how is the New concealed in the Old? In large part by symbols and “types”.

Something that fascinates me is that, in the Old Testament, almost all the godly women are beautiful and the men rich. It’s just a fact, isn’t it? So where does that leave most of us, who are nicely in the middle, but neither of the above? Are we inferior in God’s eyes? Second class?

Well, if you think symbolically, typologically, it becomes obvious that their beauty and riches stand for the true beauty and riches of Christ. They had the oh-so-fleeting shadow. We have the substance – Himself –  eternally.

How many rich men were there in the New Testament? Two or three, I think? The foreshadowing simply wasn’t necessary anymore.

And, of course, look at Christ himself. If riches and beauty were truly the signs of a person on whom God’s favor rests, Christ would have had to be handsome and wealthy, wouldn’t he? But, as we know, he was neither.To me, that is the ultimate death knell to the Prosperity “Gospel”.

Just think how this basic understanding of Old and New would help to undercut the moorings of this twentieth and twenty-first century heresy.  Wouldn’t that be a blessing to our society? And so many others it has besmirched?

Circa 1958

    

Two little girls from northern Quebec were up early one wintery Saturday morning. They had eaten their breakfast, read some comics, and still their parents weren’t up. They needed something to do so they looked around. Their house was simple and plain. The living room had a red rug which was the despair of their mother as it trapped lint terribly. The brown, nylon couch and chair were scratchy, terribly scratchy,  in the brief summer shorts season. The dining room furniture was on the hardwood – no rug at all – with Grandmother’s piano against the wall. The kitchen had nothing but a gray, arborite table and chairs. The floor there was ….shiny! Like ice…

Hey, Barbie, don’t you think we could go skating on that?…If you think so, Big Sister, I am game. Where you go, I will go. What you do, I will do. If you think we should skate on the shiny, waxed linoleum I will do so. (Ask me to jump off a bridge, O My Sage, and I will, without a thought!) So they put on their ice skates. They couldn’t lace them very well. Their ankles were turning but…they skated. And skated. And skated.

Soon they heard noises overhead. Well, it was about time their parents woke up! Did their consciences bother them? Were they apprehensive? Not at all. They had been so clever to find a way of having fun early in the morning. Closer and closer came the footsteps. Their mother stopped in the doorway. She stood for a moment looking at her clever little girls. Then she sat down and laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Until she had tears in her eyes.

It could have become a terrible memory. But a mother’s sense of the ridiculous made it a favorite one, all around.

I thank God for such a mother!

Cognitive Dissonance and Predators

Have you ever heard the term, “cognitive dissonance”? Let me try to explain it in a few words. At a bottom – line level it means that if your worldview is challenged by information that threatens it, you will reject the information rather than let it alter or change your worldview, because of your desire for consistency, continuity, and security in your life.

As I said last week, I want to talk more about Anna Salter’s book on sexual predators – especially pedophiles – because it is so very informative and timely for us in our culture. But in order for you to find practical value in what she says, it is necessary to take a few steps back and examine the phenomenon of cognitive dissonance. Are we willing to believe uncomfortable, even life-altering truths? Most people are not, which is why predators generally operate in complete safety – more about that another time…But now, let’s try to really grapple with the objective realities this meticulous researcher presents. It is not easy.

Number One: Almost 90% of people think they are better than their peers at many-probably most- things. As one of Salter’s caustic subtitles says, “The Average Person is Better Than the Average Person”. This is amusing, of course, but dangerous when  translated into misplaced confidence in key areas. To the point here – most of us believe we can detect deception better than we actually can. Salter cites many studies that show even when subjects are told that some people they see on videotape will be lying and others not, they are pretty much in the coin-toss field of accuracy in determining which is which. Professional training in detecting lies makes no appreciable difference. Often, the subjects who were the most confident in their abilities were the least accurate. So, the first paradigm change you need to be able to make to benefit by Salter’s warnings is to truly acknowledge that, by and large, you won’t recognize liars and deceivers for what they are. And sexual predators lie a lot. As a matter of fact, they live a lie. For the purpose of gaining access to your children. It’s the realm of horror, isn’t it? But it is true!

Number Two: Salter says there is an innate tendency in normal, healthy people to, in a sense, also live embracing “lies”. That is, we “distort reality to create a kinder, gentler world than actually exists.” “We live with illusions to make the world less frightening”. In other words, we have a “deep bias toward the positive” with life and people, especially the life and people we know. Is this helpful or unhelpful? It depends on the nature of “true truth”, doesn’t it? How does the Bible present the human heart, the nature of life in this present world? Natural man is “desperately wicked and deceitful above all things.” There are many “natural” men sown in amongst Christians. Even Christians can sin great and terrible sins. Are you willing to believe that rather than something “kinder and gentler” in your neighborhood, in your church? Our call is to be Christians, not humanists- unfortunately, so often our default worldview. (And the biblical doctrine of sin then becomes the “dissonance” we try to evade)  We must live on that razor’s edge of being wise as serpents and innocent as doves.

So I guess what I am really asking with all of this is: “ Parents, Grandparents, how will we protect our children if we can not detect liars who want to harm them? And these liars are among us? Especially when we want to deny the essential dangers, and live in “lies” ourselves? Recapping again: Predators want to harm. We want to deny. Just think about that for a few minutes. Quite a double whammy, isn’t it?

And again I want to repeat the the answer is not isolationism or living in terror. You know the maxim, “The price of freedom is eternal vigilance”? I think constant, open-eyed vigilance is the best solution to protecting our children as best we can-  combined with much prayer.  And Salter gives great practical advice on meaningful vigilance. I will get to that in a post or two! Thanks for staying with me! Hard stuff!

For the Children’s Sake

I have always considered “niceness” a flimsy quality. When my children were little, I remember drilling into their heads, as best I could,”Niceness is not necessarily good, and goodness is not necessarily nice.” I see “niceness” as being akin to good manners – a helpful social strategy better than “un-niceness” but without much moral depth. Still, it helps make the world go round, doesn’t it? We all prefer to be served by “nice” salesmen to rude ones. Still, not making the fundamental decision to understand the differences between niceness and goodness can be dangerous.

Let me tell you why I have been thinking about this. Some background: I have been reading a book that my son, Tim, (challies.com) mentioned in passing on his website several months ago. It bears the happy title of “Predators, Pedophiles, Rapists, and Other Sex Offenders”  by Anna Salter.  Why would I read such a book? Because three of my own children were directly endangered by sexual perverts within our own circles when they were young. (Thank God, they were not harmed) And what circles were these? Our evangelical church circles. And that was in a less sex saturated and depraved age than this present one. In other words, I take for granted that all children are vulnerable to predatory people. I now have thirteen little grandchildren and I would like to know as much as possible about who these people are and how they operate.

So, this book has been most helpful. It has been carefully researched and is extremely well-written. As usual, with an excellent book, I have been left with a few nuggets that I will never forget. I hope to write about these over the next few weeks, in stages. But the one I want to mention today is her ringing endorsement of the distinction between niceness and goodness. Salter can not emphasize enough that sexual crime is based on deception – active deception by the perpetrator that he is a “nice” person, a “warm” person. His total preoccupation in honing in on a victim is that the child’s family trust him and give him access to their child. And we are only too willing to see niceness as goodness and warmth as caring. As Salter says over and over again, in as many different ways as she can, we do so much of the predator’s work for him, by taking him at face value.

Let me give you just a couple of quotes that I know you will find uncomfortably interesting:

“It seems impossible to convince people that private behavior cannot be predicted from public behavior. Kind, nonviolent individuals behave well in public, but so do many people who are brutal behind the scenes.”

“Niceness is a decision,” writer Gavin De Becker wrote in ‘The Gift of Fear’. It is a strategy of social interaction; it is not a character trait.” Elsewhere his writes, “Predators should at least have the decency to be rude.” And Salter comments, “There are days I want to tattoo this on my forehead. De Becker is right, but who believes him?”

Aren’t these sobering and frightening realities? They call us as Christians to be faithful to the “dark” side of Scripture, as we are to the “light”…That the human heart truly is “desperately wicked and deceitful above all things.”

May God grant us the courage -without being paranoid – to be vigilant in all things. And I complete this thought by adapting the title of Susan Macaulay’s book …“For the Children’s Sake”.

They Knew Him

                                 

I can’t read the Book of John without being knocked over by the following. As a matter of fact, for me, it encapsulates the amazing love of Christ in a way nothing else does. Stay with me to the end:

Peter has denied the Lord, with all that is is within him, at that time of terror in the high priest’s house. He has lied about knowing Christ, then sworn by oath – that is, by God’s name – he has had nothing to do with Him. He has called down curses on himself – asked to be eternally condemned – if he is not speaking the truth.

What happens next? Peter goes outside and weeps bitterly. He is truly ashamed and heartbroken at his own behavior. (Can’t we all relate with that?)

And then? Peter retreats to a barricaded room – because of potential violence – with the other disciples. Although they must have known of his betrayal – John had also been at the high priest’s house, and, anyway, Peter was not the kind to hide things – they accept him wholeheartedly into their number. No rebukes. No condemnation. Not even any lectures! Seemingly, no hesitation. (What? He has just betrayed Christ!)

Next? The women discover Jesus has risen. Does Peter try to avoid a possible encounter with Jesus from shame, or embarrassment, or fear? Does he try to flee from His presence as Adam and Eve did after they had sinned? NO; rather, he is first into the tomb to investigate what has happened. He desired the Lord’s presence, his “close-upness”!

And now? At last, Jesus is among them. Does he say a single word to Peter about his betrayal? NO. He grants Peter, among the others, both his peace and the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Next? He appears to the disciples again. A word of rebuke yet? NO!

Finally: Jesus appears on the seashore while his disciples are fishing. When John recognizes him, Peter is in the water in a flash – again, heading toward Jesus as quickly as he can…Not a thought in his mind that their relationship is not one of utter commitment on Jesus’ part, in spite of his unspeakable sin. Jesus finally, indirectly, speaks of the betrayal… only to formally proclaim Peter’s full and official pardon, necessary to his continuing apostleship.

But, and here is where I look on in awe….Had Peter ever doubted – on a personal level- Christ’s immediate and complete, no-more-to-be-said-about-it forgiveness? Even before it was officially given? NO! Had the other disciples? NO! Why? They had lived with Him for three years and THEY KNEW HIM!

Not Good Enough

I work ten hours straight on Monday without access to a computer, so – I love comments but will not be able to answer any until this evening, or tomorrow…Thanks! And, of course, identifying details in the following story have been changed.

I run down the stairs from our apartment, outside, and around to the basement door in the back. I have to put a load of wash in my washing machine quickly, while the boys are quiet – Tim is napping and Andrew playing quietly in his room. As I turn  to go back  around the house, I slip on the frosty sidewalk and tumble into a wire fence, slicing my cheek badly. I bang on my landlady’s door. Mrs K, Mrs. K, I need some help! She comes out, gasps and goes upstairs to watch the boys while I get to the hospital as quickly as I can. They don’t do too much. A few stitches and I am out.

A few days later when I have the stitches removed, I notice an interesting new facial feature. I now have a deep dimple just under my cheekbone – not a natural place for a dimple, and not attractive. As there is a doctor in our evangelical church, I arrange to visit him. I know his wife fairly well – we go to the same women’s Bible study- so I am comfortable doing that.

Hi, Dr. X, what do you think of this new dimple on my cheek?…You must have been surprised to see that. You see, there is scar tissue under there and it is anchoring your cheek to the bone. I can fix that easily with minor surgery…As the Ontario Health Insurance Plan is new, alive and well, even for such things, I agree…A few weeks later and the deed is done. Simple and straightforward. I am left with a small y-shaped scar, but nothing else…So, that is not the reason I remember Dr.X. It was an insignificant operation. What is memorable came about a year later.

I am visiting with a German friend I know quite well, also from my church. She and her husband are good friends with the X’s. My friend has become active in pro-life issues, through me, and has recently discussed this with the X’s while visiting their farm close to Kingston. Dr.X then made the statement I have not been able to forget over the thirty-five years since I heard it…”Ellen, I would think no more about killing a child with Down Syndrome than I would about wringing the neck of one of my chickens…”

Isn’t that memorable?

Some commentary:

We creatures made in God’s image are called by God to mirror back to Him His own beauty – the only intrinsic beauty in the universe. What do we sinners indeed mirror back to Him? Well, have you ever been to a “funny house” at a carnival? You know how you have gone out feeling you look pretty good that day, then you stand in front of one of those rippled, irregular mirrors? You look ugly, really ugly. Completely contorted.  And that is the image of God we twisted, corrupted “mirrors” send back to Him….something hideous in place of His beauty. And what do people ordinarily do with a mirror that makes them look ugly? They smash it! Yet God has chosen to forgive us, in Christ!

But this man, while professing God’s name and claiming His mercy, wanted to destroy a child with Down Syndrome. Apparently, he saw himself as Fine and this theoretical baby as Not Good Enough.

Amazing!

Let Him be God!

A quick word: I realized mid-morning on Wednesday that the first couple of paragraphs of my post on “Why I Did Not Become a Jehovah’s Witness” were missing. If anyone would like a little more context, they are now there!

I love a few words that express lengthy truths better than many words could. Of course, Charles Spurgeon was a master of all words – lengthy or brief. Here is one of his bite-sized gems for your Friday enjoyment. They come from the wonderful biography written by Arnold Dallimore. I find it so interesting that Spurgeon did not argue the systematic merits of Christianity versus agnosticism with this man. He certainly could have. He was a brilliant theologian as well as preacher. Instead, he goes right to the essential necessity of the book of James – faith undeniably evidencing the reality and character of God through works.  I’m sure this was most uncomfortable for the particular adversary of that day, and doesn’t it challenge us?…And just a by the way comment: as I post this, I realize it fits in perfectly with yesterdays’ description of, “Why I Did Not Become a Jehovah’s Witness”.

“To an agnostic who one day accosted him and challenged his Christian beliefs, Spurgeon pointed out the failure of the unbeliever’s organizations to take on any definite and sustained program of help to the thousands of needy around them. In contrast he pointed to the works that sprang from evangelical Christianity, and he closed his conversation by paraphrasing the triumphant cry of Elijah, vigorously asserting, as well he might, ‘The God who answers by Orphanages, LET HIM BE GOD!”