Archive for the The Journey Category

Dear Dean,

Hello. I know we don’t know each other–and it might be improper to address you so informally–but I hope you will extend grace to me because today, I woke up in one of your novels.

I won’t lie. I am scared. Some kind of plague has infected the whole world and hundreds of thousands of people have died. There is a group of weirdos saying it’s—well, all a conspiracy—and the population has been divided by those who do or don’t wear a mask. Worse, people are rioting in the streets and have waged war on the police. Incredibly, I saw mayors and governors saying whole cities should have their police forces defunded. And if that isn’t bad enough, there is an election and the media outlets are censoring anyone who dares question the narrative. For the moment I’m safe. I found a safe corner to hide in before some creepy kid with a quivering lip pops up to tell me he sees dead people and I realize I’m one of them.

But while I sat there contemplating my next move, I felt a growing dread that chilled the lowest vertebrae in my spine. I wondered if you were going to walk through the door. I knew if that happened it would be the end of the world.

C.S. Lewis, one of the great masters of science fiction, wrote about one such a scenario.

“God will invade. But I wonder whether people who ask God to interfere openly and directly in our world quite realize what it will be like when He does. When that happens, it is the end of the world. When the author walks on to the stage the play is over.”

That is why I am writing. Please, Sir, don’t come to my house.

Now, I realize there may be an important reason for the end of the world, but I’d like to delay it a little while if, at all possible. So, if you would rather consider sending one of the heroes from your novels instead, that would be greatly appreciated.

If you would allow for suggestions, Jimmy Tock from Life Expectancy is a good one. If you recall, Jimmy was a baker whose birth precipitated a prediction of five dark days that would occur before his untimely death at the age of 30. He was incredibly calm as he navigated those dark days and was even vaguely philosophical. Wouldn’t it be kind to send someone who is cool enough to discuss brewing up a pot of bittersweet hot chocolate with a dash of cinnamon while facing a homicidal maniac?

Jane Hawk is another good choice. When faced with a sinister plot to enslave humans with nanotechnology, she was quick with a pistol and her wits. Of her you wrote, “If she had been a person who ran from trouble instead of into it, she might have fled. But to flee would be to dishonor herself and to further fail her mother, whom she had failed nineteen years earlier. This was a world that didn’t reward flight. Whenever you fled from anything, you inevitably fled into its equivalent.”

Jane said, “Even in the darkest darkness, hope was a lifeline, though sometimes as thin as a thread.”

Since the end of the world seems nigh threatening at the moment, I could use some of that hope of which she espouses.

But if I had to choose my favorite, I’d ask that you send Odd Thomas. Odd’s perspective on the villains he faced during various apocalypse was always rather poignant.

“…the most identifying trait of humanity is our ability to be inhumane to one another.”

Odd was never inhumane to others, well, except for those who were trying to annihilate him. He had to deal with them of course. But he was always good. And we need more goodness in the world. We need a world where a fry cook “feels obligated to kill murderous sociopaths if that is the only way to prevent them from slaughtering more innocents.” We need a world where there exists a Shakespeare quoting best friend like Big Ozzie. We need a world where even though his beloved Stormy had passed from this life to the next, he never stopped believing in the gypsy mummy fortune that they were “destined to be together forever”.

Can you send him please?

Because if Odd showed up, I would know what is happening is fiction. If Odd arrived and said, “The devil and all his demons are dull and predictable because of their single-minded rebellion against truth.” Then, I could nod in agreement. If he said, “The uniqueness of every soul is not a theme that our current culture, obsessed with group identities, cares to assert” I would then respond with, “We are souls. We merely have bodies.” And we would fist bump. I would wait patiently while he made astute observations like, “Of course, one must always remember that although The Sound of Music is the most feel good movie of all time, it is crammed full of Nazis.” Yes, Odd would do nicely. We would be great pals.

Dean, (by now I hope you have warmed to the notion of me using your first name) your stories make clear you believe there is a war between good and evil. You also remind me good always wins. You know all humanity has a need for a hero. I know this because you have made a living out of weaving tales that illuminate hope in the human heart. None the least of which is the true story of the greatest hero to ever touch your life; Trixie.

“The shimmer and flash of her golden coat in the sun, the speed with which she pursued her prey, the accuracy of every leap to catch the airborne treasure, the forepaw landing followed by a whip-quick turn the instant the back paws touched the earth…She was not just graceful in a physical sense. The more I watched her, the more she seemed to be an embodiment of that greatest of all graces we now and then glimpse, from which we intuitively infer the hand of God, infer the truth that this world’s beauty is a gift to sustain the heart, and infer the reality of mercy.” – A Big Little Life

Come to think of it, just reading about Trixie gives me hope. If God can create such an indelible creature who, by your words has inspired this generation—and probably more to come—why am I hiding in the corner?

Gulp.

Well, Dean, I feel I have taken up enough of your time. Yes, the world may be ending, but I’m starting to form an idea for how best to respond. I certainly don’t have all the answers, but I have learned enough from the characters you’ve written to know character is the most important quality anyone can possess. You wrote, “If a person has true character—which always includes a sense of honor and duty, as well as a tough set of personal standards—he or she will not fail you.” You see, I have been learning discipline for over a decade now—and while not as shrewd as Jane Hawk nor as culinary inclined as Jimmy Tock, I may have the makings of an Odd in me somewhere. I’m not afraid to talk to strangers in distress and to share the hope that shines brightest into dark places.

So, Dean, I hope you’ll take leave of me at this point. Because I’m not in the corner any longer and I may or may not have a weapon. And while you might have been contemplating a visit to my abode, you may forgive the earlier platitudes and be acutely warned. My doorstep is not safe for harbingers of the Apocalypse. I’ve got a spatula. And I know how to use it.

Kind regards,

Margaret Wolfinbarger

“Affection opens our eyes to goodness we could not have seen, or should not have appreciated without it.” C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

Bitterness is a cancer of the soul. We all have it. Sometimes it hides in the cells. Other times, it develops as a large tumor readily visible to everyone we come into contact with. Usually, it is that horrible kind of cancer that is like jellyfish tentacles that thread through our guts. We recognize it is there and–like a surgeon–we start cutting out small pieces only to discover there is more.

I lately find myself in the unfortunate position of being tempted toward bitterness. Worse, the more I give into it, the sweeter it seems. There is a simple satisfaction proclaiming judgement against people with whom I disagree by denouncing them (if only in my mind). It’s very easy to “cancel” people by proclaiming them “idiots”. It also makes me feel like the hero of my own story–which of course–in my minds eye–I always am.

I also enjoy joining “rallies” of other like minded individuals with whom I can digress about the “transgressions” of the “idiots”. It feels good to stab people in the back.

Boy is that an uncomfortable thing to put in print!

Mostly, I do this in my mind. At least I thought I did. Until I asked my son to prepare for an event recently and he said, “I’m not going! I don’t want to be anywhere around those wicked people!”

Gulp!

We see ourselves best through the eyes of those who love us the most. That is, if we are willing to listen.

I have determined that bitterness is the quickest and best way to lose friends and alienate people. And, like the unskilled surgeon I am, I have been trying to cut out the cancer. I don’t want to end up a “lonely and bitter old woman”. Candidly, the temptation to get a bunch of bunnies has been knocking on my door. That is, after all, what I used to do to avoid my feelings. I would hoard creatures until I was so busy cleaning litterboxes I didn’t have time to think about my feelings.

Upon reflection, I realize I lack the affection for some people I used to have. I also wonder how to get it back. I have been tolerating them under the guise of loving them but now I see it just won’t do. Toleration is as far removed from affection as arachnids are from octopi, and twice as deadly.

If we form friendships by discovering the things we have in common, do our differences automatically discredit the relationship? Is that why we fall out of favor with each other and say, “the friendship has run its course?” On a grander scale, is this why we break up or get divorced?

For instance, if God has called me to “love my neighbor” but I don’t “like them” should I stop praying for a tree to fall on their house? I only ask because one of my “neighbors” (a close friend) really annoys me and its not “Christian” to tell them what a jerk I think they are. And while I don’t explicitly pray for falling trees, I have stopped praying for God to protect them from harm. And it’s because of this cancer (bitterness!) that has spread throughout–and is twisting in my guts.

And I thought losing weight was hard!

Matthew 18 includes the parable of the unforgiving servant. The Apostle Peter (who must have been a lot like me) asked Jesus, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times.” (Matthew 18:21-22)

Why couldn’t Jesus have just said, “Peter, for you–three sounds like a good number. After all, the third time is a charm!”?

That pesky Jesus. Always sending an ice storm when I asked for snow.

And if that little splash of cold water wasn’t enough, he finished with, “So also my heavenly Father will do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother from your heart.” (Matthew 18:36) in reference to delivering the unforgiving servant over to the jailers. And by “jailers” I don’t think he was talking about jail.

Today, if you are anything like me, you have a few people in mind while reading this blog. You are quietly tolerating them while vociferously condemning and disavowing them. Worse, you hide behind self-righteous indignation while you quietly abandon the relationship. And while you may have a thousand excuses for why this is “right” and “good” and “noble”, I would like to suggest you are only feeding the cancer. And since God is the only one who can heal our sin–which is what the cancer is–I would like to suggest that you (like me!) learn the discipline of truly forgiving your neighbor from your heart. After all, Jesus forgave those who murdered him. I think you can (with His help!) forgive your obnoxious friend.

We were packing up school assignments, my 12-year-old and I. The teacher reviewed one particular assignment with a hopeful nod. “Ephraim, you need to write a three paragraph summary on one of your heroes that includes the ‘exceptional character traits’ that you want to adopt.”

I was flushed with the excitement of having rushed to the school to pick up my child. I was trying to remember all of the assignments. This one was not written down. I wished the teacher would give me something in writing so I didn’t forget. I am a hopeless case of “if I don’t write it down, I forget it.”

The teacher said, “It can be a comic book hero. A Marvel character or DC.”

I said, “We don’t watch those movies. We’re weird.”

The teacher rolled his eyes and said, “Fine. It can be about Jesus. Whatever.”

I didn’t take offense. I get it. I’m an anomaly. But there was a certain sense of irony in collecting my child (and his assignments) from school because he had just punched another student in the head nine times. Why did he hit him? Because the child hit him with a dodge ball. And the teacher suggesting my son write about Jesus was just icing on the cake.

I felt the mental slap across the face. He may as well have said, “All your Jesus crap doesn’t work. Your kid is a mess. Suspended again! What a bozo!”

It’s hard to not take it personally. I mean, my kid curses. He throws tantrums. He flat out refuses to do homework assignments (especially one that involves writing three paragraphs about a hero). And while I did my best to get him to do his school work for the next 2 days while we were stuck at home, it was more 10% completing work and 90% screaming and telling me what a butthole I am.

I have never felt more lonely in my life, nor more tempted to flip God the bird.

I called two trusted friends because I just wanted someone to comfort me. But no one knows what to say. Not a lot of people have experience with this kind of thing. We already met with the doctor, did more bloodwork and listened to him recommend a child psychologist (been there, done that). It’s just that, there is no “easy button” for my kid and the roller coaster ride of emotions is making me nauseous again.

So when I found the package in my carport with the book I pre-ordered months ago, “Where is God in all the Suffering” by Amy Orr-Ewing, I wept. Then I sat down to read and remember why I believe the way I do.

“Love seems to be at the absolute core of why suffering feels like it does. Suffering feels so wrong to us because of our love for another person who is in distress. We instinctively rage against injustice because we feel that people deserve love and dignity. And when I suffer, the question I am struggling with at the deepest level is this: Am I loved? And if I am truly loved, how could this be happening to me?” – Amy Orr-Ewing.

Amy helped me to understand my suffering–the pain of incredible loneliness I feel when my child is in distress–is deep because I am tempted to believe God has abandoned me. Deep down I wonder, “Does he still love me? If he loves me, why is he allowing this to happen? Why can’t my child be ‘normal’? Why did God make him so ineffably broken?”

I pray and I weep and I wait.

Then I get on my bicycle to ride out all my nervous energy. Because I’m having panic attacks again. And my thoughts are as dark as the tires on my car and spinning like I’m driving 80 on the highway.

I plug in an audio book by Derek Thomas called, “Strength for the Weary.” I pedal and weep. Because the book is written from the final chapters of Isaiah and recounts the promises of God. They comfort me. Thus I began to find my way out of this terrible place–this Land of Lonely.

“The essence of sin is to curve in on ourselves and fail to reflect the glory of God, the image given to us at creation. Like all of Adam’s progeny by nature, Israel was created to give praise to God, yet Israel flouted God’s law and failed to give him the glory due His name. What is shocking is that Isaiah is describing God’s covenant people. Despite all the privileges that grace affords, there was still abject failure and betrayal. It was a wonder that the Lord did not abandon them. He did not abandon them, but he did chastise them. It is vital that we appreciate the difference between abandonment and chastisement. There are consequences to behavior–especially Christian behavior. These consequences follow because we are Christians. ‘My son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the Lord nor be weary when reproved by him. For the Lord disciplines the one he loves and chastises every son whom he receives.’ Hebrews 12:5-6” – Derek Thomas

The truth is, I’m no better at following Jesus than the Israelites were at following the pillar of clouds in the wilderness. Like them, I complain. Like them, I’m sick of manna. Like them, I want a golden cow. Today, my “golden cow” is the notion of a well-behaved son. I worship that idea. I cling to it as if it could save me. And since I don’t have it, I’m frustrated and upset. Worse, the world wants me to have a well-behaved son too. So when I’m upset, they try to tell me how to get one. But when I read my bible I’m reminded just how deep the sin problem goes. He’s got it and so do I. We are rotten to the core and we need God to save us. Without the redeeming blood of Jesus, we would be lost forever.

I was standing in line at the bank yesterday behind a man with tattoos. His whole body was covered with them and they were horrible. His legs and arms were designed to look like demons peering out from tendons and trees. They were screeching and vomiting all manner of stuff. It was disturbing. But I was drawn to him. I started to pray for him and to hope for a way to speak to him. Then he turned and looked at me.

I said, “I was just admiring your artwork.” Which is what I normally say to heavily tattooed people–since I have a large tattoo on my back.

He said, “Thanks, but I haven’t gotten a new tattoo since 2012.”

I said, “Why not?”

He said, “Because of Christ. He saved me. I spent 12 years in the penitentiary and that is where I got all of these. Then one day I found a bible and started reading. I read about Paul in Acts 7 and how he did all of these terrible things and Jesus stopped him and redeemed him. I used to be a heroin addict. I have been clean for 3 years. When God saved me, he healed me from that addiction.”

Someone in line shouted, “AMEN!”

I shook his hand and we talked until the line moved forward. And I told him I hope he tells everybody about Jesus. And he said, “I do!”

That encounter was such an encouragement to me. He was not abandoned in the penitentiary and I am not abandoned in my circumstances.

Today, if you are feeling lost in the land of lonely, keep walking. God is with you. You may not feel that He is, but He is. His promises still hold true: if you belong to him, he will never leave or forsake you.

So while my child may not be writing a paper about Jesus, I’m writing one instead. Because He is my hero. Always and forever. He is the light that guides my path. And because of him, I am no longer lost, but FOUND!