Give Me a Love for Humanity

"Give Me Your Eyes," a song by Brandon Heath, has been playing in my mind much of the day.  I've listened to this song on my favorite radio station so often, but today some of the words seeped more deeply into the longings of my heart.

The song writer writes of the confusion and chaos of people in this world, then asks himself, "Are those people going somewhere?  Why have I never cared?"

We can get so caught up in our self-centered lives that we become blind to the pain of others.  We can become so overwhelmed by our own troubles that we don't take the time to sincerely pray for the people we see around us.  How often do we realize that each and every one carries a cross, sometimes hidden from the rest of the world? 

Sometimes their crosses are revealed to us, but we still hesitate to pray for them for various reasons.  Perhaps it's someone who hasn't treated us very well in the past?  Someone who has spread rumors or believed in the slander of our person?  Someone who has abused us in some way?

Personally, I find it easier to pray for a stranger than for someone who has hurt me or someone I care about.  I confess I don't always want things to go well for certain people, and I hang my head in sadness and plead that I will become more like Jesus.

When Jesus was suffering excruciating pain on the cross to save us from death and agony, He still looked around Him and cared, even for those who were driving in the nails and taunting Him.  For those who stripped Him of His dignity.  For those who hated Him with a passion.  He still cried, "Father, forgive them..."

Our sins just as surely crucified Jesus as the hands who physically drove in those nails.  We have just as much a part in abusing Jesus as anyone, in disgracing Him to the lowest of the lowest.  And yet He still looks right at us and prays for us.

Oh, to have a heart of love like Jesus!  The words repeated in the chorus of Brandon Heath's song ripple the deep longings of my innermost being:
"Give me Your eyes for just one second
Give me Your eyes so I can see
Everything that I keep missing
Give me Your love for humanity
Give me Your arms for the broken hearted..."

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Music can often touch us in a personal way.  Reader, do you have a song that has deeply touched you?  Will you share it with us?

It's About Respect

A battle is raging here in SD to gain a smokefree state.  It is finally being put to a vote in the November election.

I received a pamphlet in the mail from those who are fighting to keep smoking in business places - “It’s About More Than Smoking: It’s About Freedom” - complete with a picture of an American flag and a veteran's photo and sentiments of fighting for our rights.  I’m sorry, but I guess I don’t get it.  Our soldiers fought for our freedom from danger, not freedom to put us in danger.  I am deeply grateful for all our soldiers and veterans who sacrifice their lives for our safety and freedom, but what does that have to do with freedom to put others in danger? 

Yes, I get it that property owners should have a right to run their businesses as they see fit, but why wouldn’t an owner want to respect the health of their workers and customers?  When did “freedom” start contradicting respect for another person’s well-being?

If a person drinks too much alcohol, does he or she have a right to drive?  Do they have a right to abuse other people around them?  Just ask all the families who have lost loved ones because of a drunk driver or who suffer violence because of drunkenness.

Smoking has the same repercussions.  The damage isn’t always evident immediately, but it is real and deadly.  Actually, sometimes it is immediate.  I personally have landed in the hospital when I was caught unaware in the path of a smoker. 

I am not running down smokers.  I don’t know firsthand how difficult it is to quit since I have never smoked, but I do know people who struggle with it or have struggled with it.  Many wish they had never started. 

The point I am trying to make is a need for respect for our fellow human-beings.  Would we purposely place toxic gas in our homes or businesses? 

No, I don’t think smoking in public places is about anyone’s rights or freedom.  It’s about caring about others.  It’s called common courtesy.



What's In a Cigarette?



Sheep Lessons

When our three youngest sons were still at home, we lived on an acreage for some years.  We had a regular Old McDonald's Farm, but my husband and I especially miss the sheep and the lessons they taught us.

We were greenhorns at first as we tried to move them from behind by waving our arms and wagging our tongues.  They would scatter, and we had bigger problems.  Our lives became so much easier when we figured out that all we had to do was gently lead them.

It was amazing how the sheep took care of each other.  Some were white-faced, some black, and some spotted, but they accepted their differences.  They never bullied weak or lame ones.  There were always one or two of them beside one blind sheep to tenderly nudge him to the right path.

I especially remember one extra-special experience I had with our small herd.  They were out in the pasture and usually always came back to their lighted yard before dark.  Concerned that they weren't home yet, I walked to the fence.  I could faintly see their huddled mass in the middle of the pasture.  Apparently the darkness had crept in and caught them off guard, and they didn't dare to try finding their way home.

"Here, sheep.  Here, sheep," I called.  They recognized my voice and moved towards me as they baa-baa-ed their gratitude.  As soon as I stopped calling, they stopped and listened again for my voice.  When they spotted the opening that led to the lighted yard, they rejoiced and ran home.

The lesson I learned that day still sticks with me today as I ask myself, "Do I listen for my Great Shepherd's voice, I mean really listen with open ears and open heart?  Do I follow?  Am I familiar enough with the Shepherd's voice that I recognize when He is speaking to my heart - This is the way?"

Uninterrupted Connection

Twice I was going to post here yesterday.  No connection.  I went through the diagnosis to find the problem.  I suddenly connected again, but by then I lost my muse or was sidelined by some other project that didn't require a computer.  This morning I went through the same thing.  I still don't know if the problem is on my end or the service provider's end, but it seems to be going fine now.

This causes me to reflect upon the amazing connection God gives us.  He is always here for us no matter what.  He does not depend on anything or anyone else to keep His connection going, because He has all things in His Almighty hands. 

Jesus laid down His life to give us a lifeline to God.  No interruptions.  No busy signals.  No matter how heavy the storms that destroy everything in their wake, our connection to God will never, never fail.  Amazing grace!

The connection on God's side is always open 24/7.  It is from our side that the lines get disconnected.  We can be so unsteady, so untrusting, but God remains faithful and unswerving.

Thank You, Jesus, for giving us an uninterrupted, open lifeline of communication!  We may not always get the answers we want or when we want, but thank You for always being available 24/7!

My Interpreter

It has been over 26 years ago, but I still think of one of my first-graders as "my little interpreter."  Jeffrey was fluent in both English and Dutch, and he was a God-send when it came to reaching my Dutch immigrants.

I was teaching in Canada in a very Dutch community.  I tried to learn Dutch, but except for a few phrases, I didn't get very far.  Teaching English to new Dutch students held priority.  Because of this, the principal would often place the Dutch students in my class since the other first-grade teacher was also a Dutch immigrant and would too easily give in to speaking in Dutch to these new immigrants.

Petite, blond-haired Janita was shy and sensitive when she came to my class.  I tried the best I could to make her feel loved and welcomed, but one day when I was telling the Bible story, she began to cry.  I felt in my heart that she was overwhelmed with the fact that she could not understand me.  I could feel she longed to know what I was talking about, but how could I comfort her other than giving her a hug?

I asked my other students if anyone would be able to help me, and Jeffrey quickly volunteered.  I told Jeffrey bit by bit what I wanted to tell Janita, and I was deeply touched by how he also relayed my compassion.  Jeffrey leaned down to Janita at her desk and rattled off in Dutch that it would be very hard to learn English, but we would help her all we can, and she would soon understand what we were saying. 

Janita wiped the tears from her cheeks with her hands, and her smile of trust beamed a ray of peace to my heart.  By the end of the year, Janita blossomed not only as a speaker of English but as a sweet, bubbly gal.

I will always carry a photo in my memory of little Jeffrey and how adequately he interpreted not only my words but also my feelings, and it causes me to think of another Interpreter Who interprets our feelings with perfection and infinite power.

The Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness.  We don't always know how to pray or what to pray for, but He intercedes for us to the Father with groanings that words cannot even express.  (Romans 8:26) Even when we are wordless and can only sigh, He knows exactly how to relay that to the Father Who hears. 

Reader, remember that no matter what, God knows our heart and hears every little sigh and groan.  Are we convinced in our hearts of this each day?

Love Does Not Come Through DNA

Why is it that so often weight is placed on more love coming through blood relations than in adoption, whether legally or informally? 

Love does not come from DNA.  Love comes from a much deeper source.  Yes, love comes through blood, but certainly not ours.  Jesus sacrificed His blood for us because He loves us so much.  His blood is the eternal spring out of which love flows.  Without it there would be no love at all in this world.

There are couples who show more genuine love towards their adopted children than couples who abuse and neglect the children who have their own DNA or blood.  Each child, whether by birth or adoption or through marriage, is a miracle from God Himself and is worthy of our love.  If our hearts are filled with the blood of Jesus, we will love our children.

I have heard of adoptive parents, myself included, who have been approached with - Too bad you never had any children of your own.  It always cut me to the core of my heart.  Unless I instinctively drew within myself like a wounded puppy, I would answer, "I do have children of my own, five of them!"

When I married a widower with five children, God richly blessed me with children of my own.  I was fearful that if something happened to my husband, the law would take them away from me, so I legally adopted them.  But even if I hadn't adopted them and had remained a "step-parent," my love would run deep for my children, contrary to the stereotype found in the story of Cinderella.

A parent not loving their child comes through the parent's sin, not whether the parent is a "blood-parent," an adoptive parent, or a step-parent.

You see, love for a child does not come through DNA.  It comes through the blessed blood of Jesus!  And I know God has given me a mother's and grandmother's love so deep that I would gladly relieve my children and grandchildren of all their hurts by taking them onto myself and I would count it an honor to die for them.

Reader, how about you?  Will you share your story?