The Great Dilemma

    Our prayer time for prodigals was different this week, for one thing we met in person for the first time in months, but the main reason for that was so we could discuss concerns some of our women had in response to Sunday's sermon from Hebrews 10. The final verses of the chapter are about the seriousness of the judgment for those who turn away from what Christ has offered. When one asked our pastor to harmonize this scripture with the story of the prodigal son, he was not very helpful. Our pastor's sons are young, it is easy for him to tell parents of prodigals that lack of fruit indicates their grown children are probably unsaved, while his own are young and responsive. His understanding will be deepened if the sons he leads to Christ as boys, stray later in life. What I think the women wanted to discuss was the great dilemma--Should I warn my adult prodigals of the judgment to come at the risk of severing the relationship?

     Here are the things we considered:

   --The context of Hebrews.  What I finally understood this time through Hebrews was why it was written. Jews that had become Christians, now hated by both Rome and their fellow Jews, were considering going back to Judaism. For me this would be like forsaking Christ to go back to the empty elitism of the Mormon church, an incomprehensible idea. So, although judgment awaits those who wander and doubt, it is not the same thing as deliberately trading Christ's sacrifice for offerings that had nothing to offer, except less persecution.

  --Their Biblical background. Our prodigals grew up in Christian homes. They know about hell and judgment, even if they do not want to think about it. We don't like to think about it either. I had many years while my children were growing up to plant the seeds of God's truth in their hearts, but they are grown now and my role has changed. I must do the same thing Christ did when he left his disciples, trust the Holy Spirit to teach them how to apply what they learned. We should, however, have the opportunity to plant those seeds of faith in our grandchildren--if we don't alienate their parents. If a warning now would drive our prodigals closer to Christ, even if it drove them away from us, it would be worth the pain. Unfortunately, rejection tends to be a package deal, rejecting everything associated with Christ, not just their preachy parents. And then we lose the opportunity to be a godly influence to both our children and theirs. Not worth the risk.

  --The power of a godly life. In 1Peter 3:1, 2 wives are instructed to reach their unsaved husbands by behavior, not words. If that is true in the most open, intimate relationship we have on earth, why do we think grown children with whom we have much less intimacy will respond to our unsolicited Biblical "advice"? Oftentimes our words prove to them that we do not trust God to reach them without our "help".

 --The power of the Holy Spirit. I did not get saved because I loved what Christ had done for me, although I believed it to be true. I got saved because the Holy Spirit beat me to a pulp with the knowledge that I was lost and would go to hell if I died. Even then, it took a year to wear down my resistance, but inevitably, irresistibly, He won. Some claim God is too polite to intrude where He is unwanted, Paul and I would disagree. I pray that the same power that knocked Paul off and on his ass, will convict my loved ones. And although I would love to be everyone's amateur Holy Spirit, because I have so many ideas about what other people should be doing, the actual Spirit is really good at his job and far more effective than my words. He even speaks "men". Every Holy Spirit Jr. I have observed (including me) in my 48 years as a Christian, has pushed people farther from God, not closer. 

 

   So the long trip to my short answer is, no. It is not worth severing an already stressed relationship with her 40 something prodigal, to remind her what she already knows about God's judgment. And no, I do not think losing the opportunity to be a godly influence to her grandchildren, by alienating a son well taught in Biblical truth, is worth the risk. What they choose to do is between them and God, but I hope the decision is based on faith, not fear. My BSF study has been about Jacob, who spent decades drifting in and out of God's will, yet the Lord Himself chose to be identified as the God of Jacob. With repeated patience, God faithfully set him on the right path again, without his mama's words, without a Bible, without even the influence of other believers. Our great dilemmas always come down to the same thing--trusting God to do what we cannot.

Looking Back

   For the one year anniversary of Del’s departure to heaven, Reed and I decided to look back at some of the ways his Dad helped us through the years. Many of these examples are moving—literally. 

•   He came to Helena to help us newlyweds set up our first and (thankfully) only mobile home. 
•    He and Sunshine met us in Billings when we finished serving our time in Denver (that's what our last two years there felt like), helped us unpack the rental truck, pack around 8 month old Britten, and move into our apartment. 
•  There was an incident where Del and Dan Bailey drove over in his blue truck to help us, but neither of us can recall where we lived or what we needed at the time. At this time, we need better memories. 
•  When we moved into our first home in Kalispell, I was really thankful Del was there because the rest of the helpers were strangers from the Baptist church we had yet to attend. (One of the helpers dented our new refrigerator.) I was glad to have someone around who wouldn’t judge me harshly for the crankiness the chaos of moving creates in me. As in, "Put this in the small bedroom, and this in the teeny, tiny bedroom!" I hope this wasn't when Dan helped out and/or that everyone forgave me afterward.
  
•  And the statute of limitations that requires parents to help their offspring move had not yet expired in 1997 when we moved into our current home, because Del was there carrying boxes and helping meet my optimistic expectations for all things I wanted to be set up by nightfall.
  

    --He also helped Reed refinish the dining room floor in our Meridian Road home and even had the great idea of putting plastic up to keep sanding residue out of the kitchen. It would have been even better if he had that idea at the beginning of the project instead of the middle. 

   --He helped us with the additional bedroom we added to that house. 

   --He even built a matching playhouse for the kids.

  --When he helped us out November of '96 by watching the kids so I could accompany Reed on a work trip to Orlando, we promised him it would be easy because the kids would be in school all day. As it turned out, after he got to the school, he found out it was cancelled (for a couple days) because of the huge snowstorm. The snow fort the kids built that snow day lasted until April.

   --More recently, the folks came to Butte to help Britten and Luke get their wrecked repo house into livable condition. When we arrived to help there was no running water. Although the mold in the basement sheetrock and insulation held plenty of water and made me want to run--away. 

   --Gluttons for punishment, they came to Butte again for a family “Labor on Labor Day” roofing party. But that time, we assigned Del ground support duty, picking up shingle trimmings, nails and things that fell off the roof.  Because we did not want him to be one of those things.

   --We are still using the end tables, dry sink and china cupboard Dad built for us decades ago. 

   --This is not a complete list. As Reed always says, “Memory is the second thing to go . . . he can't remember the first.”       

     Even when Alzheimer’s robbed him of the competence to help out in the ways he did looking back, his quiet presence at home was comforting--and is greatly missed.

 

Grieving Places

     Many years ago we grown children and our Dad visited theme parks in Orlando. At places where the background scenery was particularly beautiful, there were signs that said "Photo Spot". Those were, in fact, the only places my Dad was willing to stop and take a picture. Not surprising. Dad would have been perfectly satisfied seeing all of Epcot in two hours. So far this post does not tie in with the title very well. What made me think of Photo Spots is that this is a significant week in the Lamb family. It is the one year anniversary of Del's final journey home, both to his earthly one, and his heavenly one. If life came with labels, this time would be called a "Grieving Place".

     Not that it does not happen other times, but these significant events, holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, especially the "firsts" are focal points of memories, whether we want them to be or not. God uses these times to help us heal. As I learned in Griefshare, time does not heal anything, it only lessens the urgency. Healing comes from feeling.  And feeling, both happy and sad, comes from memories. If these "sad-iversaries" are painful, they are also a necessary part of the healing process. I should know.

    Growing up in a home with mental illness, I became very good at stuffing feelings deep inside. So good, in fact, that it became an automatic response to stress in my home, and even after I left home. But feelings have to go somewhere, and eventually that secret place inside me became so full that everything came spilling out. And emotions, no longer attached to the memories that prompted them, make you feel crazy and, in my case, depressed. It took a long time for me to acknowledge that the reason I could not just deal with my past mentally was because the problem was not in my mind, it was in my heart. 

    So I try to help, by a card, email or other tangible way those in fresh grief, like friends at church or my mother-in-law. To know they are not alone. That these grieving places are part of God's plan for healing. That sorrow reflects the depth of the love. And that the same memories that are painful now will eventually give them comfort. Those who have held the rose of love deep in their hearts, must someday feel the thorn.

   

   

The Third

     Last week, while changing planes in Denver, we found out a Kalispell friend of many years died in an avalanche, probably instantaneously. My first thought was directed to God, "but he didn't know you". My second was, what was the purpose of decades of praying for Dave to be saved, if he was going to die unredeemed? I felt betrayed. God had not only not done what I asked, He had wasted my time prompting me to pray for it. After all the small things God has given that meant so much less to me, how could he not answer one that mattered so much? I understand election and human will are involved in salvation, and I know that it is always right to pray for the unsaved. I even understand that God's purpose in having me pray for Dave might not be the same as mine was. But deep inside I thought God had done something wrong.

    The next day when I tried to pray, a feeling of futility hindered me. Why bother? It doesn't change anything. I shared my discouragement briefly with my prodigals prayer group Monday and at greater length with my BSF group Tuesday. They are praying for me, as well as the grieving family. I have also been doing my regular Bible study, this week on Jacob and Esau. I saw how God reached out and gave many opportunities to both sons. Jacob responded, Esau chose not to. I also remembered something I realized months ago in a sermon about the flood. God gave 120 years to the people of Noah's time knowing that not one of them was going to repent. He is not trying to run out the clock on anyone's salvation as if that would be a win for His team. If Dave was ever going to repent and come to Christ, God would have kept him alive so he could do so. 

     Dave was the third of those I have prayed many years for and yet died unsaved. The first was my uncle, a very nice man who wanted nothing to do with God in life and achieved that in death. The second was Dorothy, an older friend who, in later life was practically surrounded by Christians, but somehow could not understand her need for Christ. There was not only no spiritual light within her, but seemingly, no fixture in which to hold it. And now there is Dave, who had many Christian friends and listened politely to spiritual things, but was not receptive to them. Some who have had, or known others who had, near death experiences tell me you can do a lot of businesses with God in a few seconds and perhaps Dave did.

     I am still praying for salvation for the rest of his family, and for all my unsaved friends and family. My mind knows many of them will not come to Christ, but my heart is afraid to find out who will be the fourth?

 

 

 

 

 

I See You, CDC

     I thought it would be five or ten years before the CDC would admit that the masks they have been insisting for 11 months are the barrier between pandemic and protection, life and death, are ineffective. Many of us have known that the paper surgical masks most wear are only up to 20% effective against droplets which, because they fall to the ground quickly, are not a major source of infection, and 0-5% effective against the fine particles that are much more likely to spread disease. And even that minimal protection is mitigated by how well the masks fit. Cloth masks are even less effective than surgical. Frankly any mask that is comfortably breathable is not much protection. The CDC has been strangely silent about what masks should be made out of, and/or how well they fit. And the long beards currently in vogue are un-fit. 

     But now that the media-instigated double-masking genie is out of the bottle, the CDC is telling us we can create a mask that is 95% effective by the same technique that makes a cake better, layering, wearing a cloth mask over a surgical mask, and making sure the nose piece fits properly. But 95% effective masks have been around for many years. They are called N95s and the CDC specifically told us not to purchase those so they would be available for front line workers. (Although most of the front line workers I have seen are wearing cheap surgical masks like the rest of us.) I think the real reason they did not recommend N95s, is that they knew if people had to suck air through such sweaty, suffocating accessories no one would wear them.

     Even though logic has become a lost art in American culture, it is obvious that if they are now telling how make effective masks, the ones they have been hammering onto our heads through every possible media are, by default, ineffective. After "To mask or not to mask" has separated families, divided churches, closed business, imposed fines, turned nosy neighbors into narcs, resulted in threats and fistfights--we find out those weren't even the good masks. It is very unlikely that the general public, already sick--of masking--is going to double up on their efforts. But the Maskalorians, who wear masks when alone in their own homes and vehicles, will probably be thrilled to have another talisman to protect them from plague. 

     Montana's governor just rescinded the state wide mask mandate in favor of individual responsibility, which is rare, but not yet extinct in Montana. However, masking may still be mandated by business owners, "Kool-Aid" counties, and p.c. cities. But now that the call for effectiveness is on the table, it is time to show your cards, ICU CDC.

The Redneck Rules of Business Communication

       There is a required class at my son's college called Comex, it teaches communication skills necessary for getting a job and staying employed afterward. I have no doubt that the ability to communicate has declined in the texting, tweeting, and especially emoji, era. My son, who has successfully found many jobs, tried but failed to test out of the class. Apparently, his credits from the Redneck Rules of Business Communication class did not transfer. Here are a few of the communication skills useful in blue collar workplaces. 

 

    Body language--Body language in the redneck world is not subtle. It is comprised of noises emanating from one's body and/or sign language. The sign language is easy to master because it is usually confined to one finger. Involuntary body language, like joints popping, can be confusing and usually requires verbal clarification by identifying the source so coworkers don't think you have damaged something important, like a tool. Semi-voluntary body language, such as burping or farting should not be paired with the phrase "excuse me", except in the most facetious manner--excuuuse ME, as this may  incite a competition that could impair the work environment for at least half an hour. 

    Nicknames--Though not recommended in a white collar workplace, nicknames, particularly derogatory nicknames, are a sign of acceptance, if not affection, among rednecks. It is a breach of manners to refuse to answer to, or call others by, their nicknames.

    Politically Incorrect--No touchy, feely. In a redneck workplace sharing feelings voluntarily is considered emotional assault. However, topics deemed unacceptable in politically correct companies--politics, religion, anatomical peculiarities, blowing stuff up, etc. are fair game in a redneck workplace. Break times are preferred for these discussions, to maximize participation or, in modern jargon, be more inclusive. Hate speech is what occurs when rednecks are compelled to be politically correct--they hate speech.

    Swearing--Though inappropriate for general discussions, such as the weather or ordering supplies, cursing can be essential as a lubricant for removing and installing parts, incentivizing coworkers, reporting an injury, or to magically jump start an uncooperative piece of machinery.

    Being Offended--In our current chronically cranky culture, it is vital to know the correct steps to take when feelings have been hurt.                          

    If you are the one offended:  Meet privately with your supervisor, explain the incident, then find a different job. Redneck culture does not recognize hurt feelers and was well established long before you got hired.

   If you unintentionally offend someone:  As quickly as possible, tell them the insult was intentional and everything will go back to normal.

   If you think you might have hurt someone's feelings:  You have been inhaling too many chemical fumes. Get some fresh air until your mind returns to the thoughtless wonder it normally is.

   Written Communication--Even in the most harmonious work environments, there are times you will need to communicate by something other than body language, swearing or verbal means. 

   Emails:  For these you may have to rely on information you ignored in high school English classes. If nothing else, start your message with a capital letter and end it with a period. Spelling is not that important because many computer writing programs auto-correct. They will also make suggestions for proper grammar, but it is best to ignore those, since correct grammar could make the recipient believe the message is not from you.

   Texting: This is the easiest writing method because texts are brief and require neither capitalization nor punctuation. Those features would make your message more understandable, but if you wanted clear communication, you probably would have picked up the phone. It is important, however, to make sure you phone's auto-correct function has not gerbiled year massage. This is especially important if you are dictating your text, since many phones are not programmed with the redneck speech recognition feature. 

  Emojis:  If you like to use emojis, you are not likely to be reading this. Emojis (aka cute little pictures) are not acceptable for business purposes except for the occasional 👍 or something redneck like a tool, or a pile of. . . p.c. communication. 

   A passing grade in the R.R.B.C. class will practically guarantee you a job in a workplace that supplies uniforms or houses machinery--maybe even horses. Places where you don't need to b.s. h.r. with p.c. for an interview. Where testosterone is not considered an illegal substance and cupcakes are snacks, not coworkers. And remember, despite all the changes modern communication has made in our culture, redneck or not, our best resume comes with a steady look and a firm handshake.

  

 

 

What Were They Thinking?

    We have been studying in BSF about Jacob and Esau. Their story reads like a reality show about dysfunctional families. They could call it Big Little Lies or The Lying Game or Secrets and Lies or Body of Lies. Shoot, those have all been taken. When it comes down to it though, the goat skin costume, props and lies were only the outward manifestations of their inner beliefs. I have been thinking a lot about what they were thinking.

•  Did Jacob really think a future birthright only their father could impart could be swapped from Esau for a bowl of stew? That Isaac would accept that? That food endowed inheritance rights?
• Did Isaac really think that blessings only God could impart could come through his "Will trade birthright blessing for food, Part 2" arrangement? That he could thwart God's prophecy that the older would serve the younger? That Rebekah would not find out?
  
• Did Rebekah really think God would bless Jacob through sin and deception? That she was helping Jacob? That God could not fulfill His own prophecy without her help? That Isaac would not find out about it? That Esau would not avenge himself?
  
• Did Jacob really think he could lie and deceive his way into God's favor? That his brother, the hunter, would not target him afterward? That he could go on living at home?

     It would be even more fun to look back at how twisted their thought processes were if we did not do the same things today. The recent election is a great illustration. What do our responses reveal about what we really think? 

• Do we really think conspirators tricked God to manipulate President Biden into office? That voter fraud thwarted God? 
• That we do not have to respect or submit to rulers if we didn't vote for them?  
  
• And for those who think our current leaders represent God's judgment on our country's sins, that Christians should be exempt from it? Blame the liberals? Complain that God has abandoned us?

      And closer to home, my home, is when my Rebekah heart crosses the line from motivation to manipulation. From trusting God's gracious promises to getting my goat.