From The Sheep Pen

The Christmas holiday is over. Christmas lights are untangled; ornaments and decorations are put away into storage. Packages under the tree are gone. Fir trees dropping needles will soon end up in land fills. The months long focus of  Christmas Present –  shopping and spending far too much is over and we question, “Now What?”

What I see is is a  cultural Christmas  that begins months before December with the opening of holiday shopping; it ends abruptly on the 25^th or thereabouts when all the “giving” is done with. Christmas then gets put away into the attic for another year, until October when the cycle begins all over. Now as this holiday ends, a winter malaise seems to settle in, grey and foggy as the clouds outside. What’s happened to that “Christmas spirit?”

There is no mystery to behold in  a holiday which is more tinsel than substance. The true mystery of Jesus’ birth is increasingly ignored but it transcends anything and everything that the media would have us believe about earthly peace and joy. “The Word became flesh,” according to John’s Gospel, “and dwelt among us.” In Him the disciples beheld the glory of God Himself. In Him is all the Mystery, Love, Joy and Peace we so desperately seek and which the world falsely promises.

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. John 3:16

For God loved us …beyond anything we imagine  or dare to believe. What greater gift is there than the promise of eternal life? That we will not perish?  What can the neon lit   worldly marketplace possibly offer in the light of that promise?

John writes that “Jesus was (and is) full of grace and truth.”  The truth is that He was born to save mankind; His grace is given freely and can never be earned. Or bought. The gift of God does not end on December 25. Rather it begins eternally  the moment when you believe in and accept the Son into your heart as Lord and Savior. Unlike Madison Avenue, there is no end, no cycle of useless repetition to find meaning where none exists. That is the Christmas Mystery!

While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. Luke 2:6-7

Christmas is all about family, isn’t it? To paraphrase the song , “No matter how far away we roam, there’s no place like home.. especially for the holidays. “ And what is home if not a family gathered together in one place, often from far away.

Our family is scattered from Boston and New York to Chicago, Salt Lake and   central Idaho. It is almost impossible for everyone to be together and so Dan and I visit where and when we can. This week we drove more than five hours in winter weather to Coeur D’Alene to spend Christmas with my son and his family. The children are still young and very excited for Christmas. There was a virtual mountain of presents under the tree which seemed to grow every night. Fresh snow fell for two days transforming the neighborhood into a sparkling  wonderland. The kids threw snowballs and made a tall snowman remarkably dressed as their Grandfather Poppi. Today’s Christmas morning was happy and chaotic as all the carefully wrapped presents were shredded open and created an avalanche of presents. It was such fun to watch. Most of the day, the grown ups cooked, cleaned up and napped while the children sorted and played with their toys. All in all, it’s been a memory making Christmas.

It’s not always like that in families. Sometimes we have totally unrealistic pictures of what our families are supposed to be like. We think that Christmas will bring love or joy or peace, just like in “A Christmas Story” and old movies from the fifties.  But then someone gets into a snit or a quarrel begins. An unhealed relationship blows up between family members. Someone is forgotten or insulted. The children bicker and aren’t appreciative. We feel guilty about spending too much or not enough. Expectations don’t meet the reality of families which act .. well, like themselves.

Ours is certainly not a perfect family, but we are doing a lot better than we used to. I thank God for His grace and wisdom to give me a family which has held on despite a lot of struggles. God teaches  me to accept and love them exactly as they are, no better or worse. I can choose to see them as beautiful instead of weird. After all He loves me unabashedly,  warts and all – and sees me the same way.

There is another family to which I now belong, into which I have been adopted. It is not the family of my parents Anton and Elisabeth, nor is it the family that Dan and I head. It is the family into which I have been adopted as a believer in Christ Jesus. When Jesus was born to the Virgin Mary, a new lineage was also birthed in that stable. It would be the spiritual lineage by which those who believe on the name of Jesus, who choose Him as their Lord and Savior, would become children of God. We can call God our Abba Father for we become His sons and daughters. He sends Jesus’ Spirit into our hearts to remind us that we are now among God’s family members.

“And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying, Abba, Father.”—Galatians 4:6.

At times our human families will fail us  just as we fail them. But God as our Father will never fail us. Even though we often miss the mark, there is no condemnation in the Father’s eyes when He sees us because of Christ in us. Our still unsaved families too can become adopted children of the Most High God through Jesus.

The Word tells us to ask anything of the Father according to His will and He will grant it. If we being evil  have given so many gifts to our children  this Christmas, will not Our loving Father also give to us what we ask? Therefore,  I have one late Christmas wish today. May God our loving Father draw my family and yours into His embracing Arms tonight. May His Spirit speak the Word made flesh into families needing   His salvation. And may the peace  of God  proclaimed by the angels envelope  all families who came  together to celebrate Jesus’  birth to His glory and honor.

Last night, December 21,  the winter solstice took place which in our Northern Hemisphere marks both the shortest day of the year and the longest night. Technically it happened at 11:48 EST when our hemisphere tipped the farthest away from the sun. It also marks the beginning of winter season.

I’ve noticed the days becoming shorter. In the last weeks it has gotten dark much earlier and sunrise comes later. The sun’s light is icy white, emptied of its golden warmth. Evening shadows lengthen along the roadway like long fingers. As the daylight disappears into the trees I am glad to come home, drawn to fire and warmth.

The power went out yesterday and stayed off for over seven hours. Recent snowstorms brought unusual amounts of heavy snow which  broke trees and t00k down power lines. Our electricity flickered on and off repeatedly so I knew there would be an extended outage. It happened very quickly. One minute the world of my neighborhood hummed with electricity; then a sharp crackle and pop stopped everything fed by the power lines. The house became silent as all my appliances, fans and blowers quit.  It got darker by the hour. We lit candles, found flashlights and dug out the red oil lamp. There was light, but it was softer and diffused. It was light which did not reach into the corners. We  ate and read  by candlelight.   I was actually enjoying   the quiet and semi darkness when  just as suddenly the power came back, lighting up every room and turning on everything electric..

Ironically, the power failure and the shortest day of the year concurred yesterday. Natural darkness came very unexpectedly, stayed longer when the power went off. There was nothing   to dispel the inevitable dark. But that passed within a few hours as the power grids kicked back in. Today the earth begins its journey closer to the sun. Immediately after the winter solstice, daylight imperceptibly lengthens again. God created our solar system never to be far off from the life of our star.

It is little wonder that Christians celebrate Jesus’ birth in late December. Just as we earth dwellers long for the promise of our natural sun during the darkest night of the year, the prophets anticipated the Messiah and  prophesied His coming. . He would be “God with us” not only for Israel but for the entire world. Jesus , Emmanuel,  was born in a dark cave into a violent world even darker than our present one. Although his birth was probably not during the winter solstice as we know it, Jesus brought  God’s eternal Light to illuminate our spiritual darkness not for earthly seasons but eternally. He was born as the Life and Light for men walking in pitch black darkness.

Light of the world, You came down into darkness…

John begins his gospel with the beautiful and fearsome proclamation:

…In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. John 1: 4,5

This is the same light that Jesus later echoed and claimed of Himself.

Then Jesus again spoke to them, saying, “I am the Light of the world; he who follows Me will not walk in the darkness, but will have the Light of life.” John 8:12

…Open my eyes, let me see…

Therefore, rejoice. This present darkness will end. The earth’s solstices will be no more. Night and day will be as one in Christ “the bright and shining Morning Star.”

…Beauty that made this heart to adore You, hope of a life spent with You.

Just as the angles, the shepherds and the Magi did   long ago at Jesus birth beneath the star of Bethlehem, Here I am to worship, here I am to bow down… on this first day past the longest December night.

Friede Gabbert

And He looked up and saw the rich putting their gifts into the treasury.  And He saw a poor widow putting in two small copper coins.  And He said, “Truly I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all of them;… Luke 21:1-3

I sat down next to my friend Yvette just as the service was beginning. She had called me earlier in the morning asking for a ride to church.   She doesn’t speak any English and conversing in Spanish on the telephone is difficult for me, especially since Yvetter has a very soft voice. I finally figured out where she was currently living. It was another little ramshackle home, the fourth or fifth place she’s lived in since I first met her a number of years ago. This house is behind Paul’s Grocery store, one in a cluster of broken down houses where poor people live.

I asked her about her kids. “Bien, bien.” Was she working? Only a few hours on Sunday afternoons at a motel, she told me. “No hay mucho trabajo”. There isn’t much work.  Her hours were cut again and when she worked, she needed someone to watch the two children. The boyfriend was out of the picture again. Hers is a familiar story, one I’ve seen over and over at the food bank and beyond. She’s a single mother in a town where she’s isolated by language and culture. Her family, including two other children, are in Mexico. She has no one close here.  She works as a house maid when she can get the work, but basically Yvette is as poor as the proverbial church mouse. She calls me because I speak some Spanish and because I’ve helped her through a few rough crises.

I gave Yvette a Spanish Bible so she could follow the service a little, but she never opened it. Later it occurred to me that she might be unable to read at all. Still, she kept her eyes on the front screen during Praise and Worship and sat quietly through the music. Every once in a while I translated lyrics for her.

When it was time for the offering, the basket came to our row. I opened my purse and took out a bill to put in the basket. Yvette also took out her wallet. I could see she had several dollars folded up, maybe four. She took out more than half of them. Knowing how little she has, I put out my hand to stop her and say, “ No, it’s OK, you don’t have to give anything., Yvette.“ And then the Lord let me have it! I heard very clearly, “Don’t you dare presume to take away her blessing!” “Do not stop her from giving me her offering. ‘ The words were  a nerve shock and I turned my attention elsewhere, squirming around  Him who was not so gently chastising me.

When I get an admonition like that, I surely pay attention and I’ve been chewing on the lesson for weeks now. I had been presumptuous because I believed Yvette was too poor and couldn’t afford to give. In fact it would have been an insult to her and dishonoring to God. I was stepping into God’s territory. He was teaching me about my own heart, for truthfully, I paid little mind to  what I was doing. True, I had more money in my wallet than my friend, but I gave little thought to the paper offering  I tossed into the basket. I certainly didn’t bless God first with a prayer of thanks for how He constantly blesses me. I took Him for granted.

Naturally,   I’m reminded of Luke’s story of the poor widow’s mite because the situation with Yvette was so similar. Yvette is poor but offered the greatest portion of what she had; the widow put in all of her resources. They sacrificed from their  hearts and had  faith. They believed they would be blessed and provided for. And I? I hate the idea that I was like the Pharisees sitting in judgment of   my friend’s offering.  Sometimes “good intentions”  actually reveal a selfish mind set.

In Luke’s account, Jesus was  in the temple confronting the Pharisees who “devour the houses of the widows.” He sat  across from the treasury, watching people  make  their offerings. Jesus was observing more than   pocketbooks and coins.  He was looking for the sacrifice of people’s hearts, to trust in God for provision, just as the widow did and my friend gave. Their offering is greater than the  Pharisees’ or mine  because they gave proportionately  much more out of their hearts as well as their treasure.

Jesus has seen both of us and Yvette will be blessed.  I pray He  sees my heart a little more broken, a lot more humbled after this incident. Teachable moments come unexpectedly. While they’re painful, they are always filled with God’s grace because He loves us so. Jesus is always an amazing teacher!

Friede Gabbert

 Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, Luke 2:13,14

I finished taping the package to send to my daughter and grand girls who are still in Kyoto. There  wasn’t much inside, a tin of cookies I’d baked and some small presents for the girls.   I wanted them to have something special for Christmas because they were very far from home. Nonetheless, it felt heavy, probably from all the butter I’d baked in the cookies.

I literally choked when the usually very congenial Post Mistress   told me the cost. “How much did you say,” I gasped . She looked at me sharply over her glasses. repeated the price and then handed over a long customs form to fill out. The line behind me had grown longer so I stepped out of the way. Of course I hadn’t brought my glasses and how in the world was one supposed to write all the required info on such a tiny printed form. This was not going to be easy and I began wondering why in the world I hadn’t just ordered some goodies from Amazon, shipped directly to Japan. It would have been a LOT cheaper. I quickly squashed such an easy temptation. My daughter and her daughters wouldn’t be getting Oma’s (that would be me…) Kranzl cookies which my mother used to make and her mother’s mother before her. Christmas would not be the same without a tin full of sweet, buttery raspberry filled Kranzl to nosch on during the holidays.

Christmas is not celebrated in Japan. My daughter is in a quandary because the girls attend a Western school and will have a very long Christmas holiday while Lisa who teaches at a university has ongoing classes. They are working all that out. My grand daughters will come home a lot more responsible for themselves after experiencing two very different cultures.

What would it be like not to have Christmas as we know it?   Think of everything we associate with Christmas – decorated evergreen trees, wreaths and ribbons, carols and carolers, brightly wrapped packages under the tree, stockings and gingerbread houses. Think of children’s pageants and choirs singing “Silent Night” while snow falls outside at midnight. Think of   Norman Rockwell illustrations and it’s easy to become nostalgic. Having grown up in a very traditional German family, my childhood Christmas was filled with wonder. I can’t imagine life without a Tannenbaum.

Then again, think about today’s commercialized Christmas and how consumerism has become the economic reason for the season. Think of stores displaying Christmas goods in October, Black Friday, Cyber Saturday, Shop Local   Thursday and all the other days set aside to buy, buy, buy. Listen to all the really bad Christmas songs blaring in every store and restaurant and one quickly concludes   that “less Christmas “ would be most welcome.

The first Christmas in Bethlehem years was vastly different. Christmas today bears no – if any – resemblance to that first Christmas, when Emmanuel came to dwell among men and the heavens rejoiced! A few humble shepherds and their flock paid attention to a poor child born in a cave, but the rest of the world was too occupied with itself. There were no special trees or elves or Kris Kringles carrying presents, no sleigh and reindeer, no one drumming or piping. There was no snow. No one was dancing with a nutcracker; there was no Charley Brown or Grinch or Scrooge. Instead, there was a heavenly host of glorifying, worshiping and exalting angels singing in the heavens about “peace on earth, to men of good will.” It was a majestic choir unlike any ever heard since. Two thousand years ago the United States was centuries in the future as a nation. However, ancient Japan already existed. The angels announced a Savior to them a very long time ago, before Western civilizations developed.

I keep thinking about no Christmas in Japan. It is a Buddhist and Shinto land, has hundreds of festivals, but it does not believe in or celebrate the birth of Jesus. It is a country without a Savior and without God’s greatest gift to human kind, His only begotten Son. We who have received the gift, who believe in Jesus as King of Kings and Lord of Lords are to worship Him alone, particularly in this season when Jesus seems to have gone missing and we must reject the false and ultimately deceptive images created by the world’s version of Christmas. If we don’t honestly question our beloved, closely held traditions and look through them to Jesus Himself, then we’re really no different than the people of Japan. We are a people without Christmas for we’ve lost the Christ.

Friede Gabbert

In everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 1 Thessalonians 5:18

It’s evening of a very different Thanksgiving for my husband and me. We were here by ourselves, just the two of us, having ”refrigerator surprise,” i.e.. Monday’s leftovers.   My   dinner plans took an unexpected left turn. Tuesday night I came down with a 24 hour bug, the kind that hits like lightning, keeps you in the bathroom all night and listless on the couch most of the next day. The very thought of cooking today – and eating- a turkey feast ,   replete with gravy, buttery mashed potatoes and all the rest of the menu was really unappealing to say the least.

Dan ordered a large “take and bake” pizza for our dinner. We’d invited my daughter and her boy friend to join us but even that didn’t turn out. Dean got sick also and they decided to stay at home. So it was Dan and I having a simpler meal together and it was very, very nice. We reminisced about all the Thanksgivings we have had together with friends and with family. Some were adventurous; some were disastrous; some were funny; some were not. Many are memories which have faded and softened into the fabric of our time together.

Today I’ve had actual time to think about being thankful because I wasn’t rushing around trying to “do” everything for the big meal. This morning I watched all of the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade and it surely touched my New Yorker heart. The parade showed some of the best, the most creative, talented and  brightest of what it means to be an American. Thanksgiving is after all an American tradition inspire by our American heritage and the parade is iconic.  I felt a surge of new hope for this country and the future despite the dire darkness eating up the edges the world. We Americans can really do some things exceedingly well and the unbroken tradition of this parade, now in its 89^th year, is one of the finest. For a few hours this morning there was joy, delight, love and happiness in everyone, especially in the small children being held by their parents. I am thankful that God is still blessing us as a people, that His Hand still touches us. We are still safe if only for the moment. I am thankful that  God still  offers us   Christ’s indestructible, timeless peace, not the world’s  fickle peace of the moment.

This afternoon I took a short walk along the snow covered road. It was quieter than usual. Folks were either gone visiting or taking post dinner naps. I walked until my still wobbly legs said “Enough for now.” I sat on the front deck for a bit in the bright sunshine, watching the wind rustle the frozen grasses around the birdbath and a squirrel still “squirreling” away his winter stores. Two deer came into the garden to browse oblivious of my watching them. The icy north wind blew the tall pine trees back and forth along the golf course but I felt warm and toasty in the afternoon sunshine.

I found time to read a new mystery in front of the fire and may even have fallen asleep . After dinner Dan and I dug into the pies I’d made earlier in the week. My appetite returned for that ! After all of this, we still have leftovers. Sometimes I think the miracle of the loaves and fishes takes place each night in my refrigerator for food seems to multiply inside.

And so, even though today wasn’t exactly a Norman Rockwell illustration of a large family gathered around a fully laden table, heads bowed  in prayer, it feels like all of today was a prayer of thanksgiving. All things bright and beautiful were right here in my own patch of the planet and for that  I give Him thanks in all things, the ordinary and the extraordinary, in celebration feasts and in leftover meals.

This morning I awoke earlier than usual and came downstairs to a picturesque,  perfectly illustrated winter scene.  Yesterday’s snowfall blanketed the world outside my windows in white. A few animal and dog tracks broke up the snowy expanses, but even the ruts from our car were softly rounded.

It was not full light yet. The sun was up but playing with the clouds. Like an old photograph, the monochromatic landscape  was a  stark contrast of black and white.  Snow mounds outlined the tall, skeletal limbs of trees, filled in empty spaces between them, smoothed out the ground, silenced the noise.  The morning was untouched and beautiful. In the semi  darkness, I stood with my coffee cup, my heart enticed to linger on admiring God’s handiwork. “What God hath wrought,” I thought silently. It is so beautiful here. I felt a surge of gratitude for God’s blessing to me and Dan in this place.

Then the sun broke through the clouds like  a brilliant eye peering through upper   branches of the  Pondersoa pine shading our deck. The sun light hit the snow everywhere and magnified each ice crystal a thousand times. The snow-laden trees caught fire . Light avalanched down from the top of the ridge onto the driveway, into the gardens,  around the shrubs. It shone so blindingly I had to turn away and avert my eyes.It  shimmered   and flashed like a mirror.   If earlier I’d admired   God’s blue iced Hands at work in the night, I was now speechless.   It was an exquisite moment and words failed me. When God breaks through at such unexpected times,  there are no words. We say   awesome, magnificent, breath taking, stupendous and even glorious but such words are pale.  What rises in the heart is far beyond ordinary language. Nothing suffices or satisfies. Looking out my window, I  saw  what God had wrought, but  sensed the  Presence of Him  who had wrought.

A few moments later clouds passed in front of the sun again. Immediately the fiery light was gone. Snow was white again, the tall trees stark  and dark in contrast. I felt a little disappointed. I’d been  smitten by  the same scene earlier and it was no less beautiful now. But something had come and gone and had changed in the   landscape. I’d seen the effect of light on the snow and how it changed everything.  The first was beautiful in its white-black starkness.  The second was indescribable.   I’d seen the possibility of light breaking through. It is an “intimation of immortality”  such as the poet Wordsworth expressed :

“The sunshine is a glorious birth But yet I know, where’er I go/That there hath passed away a glory from the earth”  Wiliam Wordsworth, “Intimations of Immortality”

One day, we’ll know a glory we can only glimpse at now. Just as I could not  look directly into sun light on snow for fear of snow blindness,  God’s glory is hidden from us. The Word tells believers we see only in part now but there will be a different time. While now…

we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. 1 Cor 13: 12

What splendid surprises await us! God promises us an eternal  life more breath taking than   November mornings  after a snowfall.

… what no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived” — the things God has prepared for those who love him. 1 Corinthians 2:9

Face to face with Christ we will know Him and be known by Him. There will be no more sun because Jesus is the bright and shining Morning Star.  There will be no more snow nor ice, nor heat nor cold. Pain and tears will be gone. Our eyes and ears will be opened to  unspeakable delights and indescribable,  overflowing  joy . Then, as the song asks, “ Will I be  able to speak at all? ”  Perhaps only without words.

Friede

I’ve missed being here in the Sheep Pen, writing about the things that are on my heart. Around the end of August, I wandered off into other pastures and just kept wandering. It feels good to come home!

One of my sojourns was travel to Japan. Last year my daughter Lisa was invited to teach English and Folklore at Ritsumeiken University in Kyoto for the fall semester. At the end of September Dan and I went to Kyoto for two weeks. It was a marvelous opportunity to see a part of the world I would never see otherwise, especially since Lisa was taking our two grand daughters with her. Back in the spring when we first learned they were going, Dan didn’t want to go and actually asked me, “Why would we want to go there?”as if there, Kyoto, Japan, would be no more interesting than a car trip to Costco on a Saturday morning.

I   not so sweetly announced that I was going anyway with or without his company. With that, he quickly changed his mind and then in true hubby fashion spent weeks and weeks planning the itinerary, making reservations and reading websites for everything Japanese. His efforts were well worth it. We had a great trip, truly memory making and again in true Gabbert manner never sat very still. During the 12 days we stayed with Lisa in her tiny Japanese apartment, spent 2 nights in a traditional ryokan in the mountain area and then stayed in Kyoto and Osaka at several hotels. The suitcases were never far away and never unpacked.

Our son Chris and grandson Christopher also came, overlapping a week with us. Sometimes our family members can’t even visit each other here in the states because of the distances, but there we were five thousand miles and 15 time zones away as the crow flies, negotiating a foreign country. I feel greatly blessed that three of our grand kids had such an educational experience with the bigger world. I know they’ve been impacted by it already. The girls are learning Japanese in school. Christopher got his dream wish to ride the Bullet Train. Today Lisa told me that during last week’s fall school vacation, she, Gretchen and Bridget visited Hiroshima and the Peace Memorial Park. The past horror and future hope depicted in the memorial affected them hugely. They will return home changed, more compassionate and hopefully never forget their own blessings.

There’s much I’d like to write about my Japan experience before the details fade, before the busyness sets in and the holidays take over.  Chris and I took hundreds of digital photos of the overcrowded city, the beautifully sculpted gardens and the arching red Shinto temples, of the shopping areas and of course, food arranged like art work on the table. It’s been a chore to sort, discard and arrange the pictures into files on my computer, but amazingly pictures do speak a thousand words of narrative. They also make for sloppy, neglected writing!

Visiting the Buddhist and Shinto temples gave me a rare insight into the spirit of the Japanese people, into their religion and the demands of their religious practices. Two weeks do not make any one an expert on a nation or people, certainly not me, but the Lord showed me His love for the Japanese people by imparting a special love for them into my own heart. As I seek Him for more revelations in this particular area, I’m asking the Holy Spirit to move and breathe His life over the region. And to gift me with words to write “a good theme” such as the psalmist:

My heart overflows with a good theme; I address my verses to the King; My tongue is the pen of a ready writer. Psalm 45:1

After our trip, there was an unexpected “side trip.”  After 27 hours of traveling through 4 airports and an overnight in Boise to crash, we came home to New Meadows and Dan had a stroke . I can only thank God that we were already home, close to local hospital care and that he was immediately treated. It wasn’t a lot of fun that week, but I am so thankful to God who is ever present, ever watchful and ever protective of us. There were no “what ifs” because God had taken care  those  dangerous possibilities. Our friends and church family prayed a lot for Dan and for me. The miracle happened for  Dan is already healed and healing; he’s almost back to normal. It might be a little wake up call for both of us.

But that’s another story narrative for Sheep Pen.

Even as I’ve asked God for a greater measure of courage, the tests come, ongoing insomnia being one of the hardest. My first response is to complain: “God, not another night of shredding my bedcovers! I’m supposed to sleep and rest. Why, why, why? How do you expect me to do kingdom work unless I can sleep?” There’s not even a glimmer of courage in these laments. I act as if my Father’s shining a spot light into my eyeballs like a terrorist. I forget that He is Love, love is kind and love encourages the weak.

I love books and since God always knows what I need, He directed me to a book, The Red Badge of Courage. We may vaguely remember it from American lit classes. I found my old copy almost immediately on a bookshelf. It’s inscribed with my maiden name so it’s almost a collectible. The pages are yellow and brittle. I need glasses to read the microscopic print.

The story is a classic quest for courage. The hero Henry Fleming is a young, untried Union soldier who encounters an enemy battalion in the Civil War – and runs away in fear. Filled with guilt and shame, he then longs to be wounded, to bear “a red badge of courage” as a sign of his bravery. Most of the story deals with Henry trying to hide his cowardice from his regiment. In the end he carries his regiment’s flag into the final battle and finds peace. In rereading the story, it’s very clear that Henry is fighting two battles. There’s the terrifying physical battle against the unseen ‘feds in the trees. But there’s a greater battle paralyzing Henry’s heart as he tries to justify, make sense of and vindicate his action. His introspection is an accusing voice constantly reproaching and condemning him, filling him with excuses and glutting his pride that he is after all superior to his fellow soldiers and above their opinions.

We know that hateful, haranguing voice of the enemy. It snickers the same lies: we’re useless, cowardly, fearful and anxious. Sooner or later we’ll be exposed to everyone. Or it whispers that we’re above the fray, more than mere men and justified in all the evil we give in to. Then, completely beat up with guilt and shame, like young Henry we want “a red badge of courage “ to make our souls well again. The voice spoke in the Garden to our first parents and we their offspring have been fearful, lacking in courage ever since. We’ve tried to justify the Lies in our hearts ever since as well. After the fall the eternal battle for man’s heart unfolded. The LORD of Hosts would become The Lamb That Was Slain for mankind’s salvation and overcome.

The Lord Jesus Christ’s suffering on the cross and shedding of blood is the greatest “red badge of courage” ever known. His heart was wounded and pierced for all sin and for every sinner, be he a coward or a hero. Jesus knew every temptation and fear we have, warning the disciples,
Watch and pray lest you fall into temptation. The spirit is indeed willing, but the flesh is weak. Matt 26:41

Facing his own agony on the cross Jesus took his closest friends with him to pray. He was not without fear, even to sweating blood. Still, he prayed,
If this cup cannot pass away from Me unless I drink it, Your will be done. Matt 26:42

Well yes, you might argue, but that was Jesus, not me. How can I have that kind of supernatural courage? It comes through obedience. As Jesus was obedient to His Father, trusting in the Father’s will, the heart of God opened up to the Son, pouring in divine love and extraordinary courage. Obedience is the key. If Henry had obeyed his superior officers to fight, he might have discovered that he really was very brave. If Adam and Eve had obeyed God, they surely would have found courage to tell the Serpent “No Way! Depart from us.” If we heed the voice of the Holy Spirit, trust God’s will and obey Jesus’ commandments to love one another, His perfect love will cast out fear and make us brave.

Jesus told his disciples over and over, “Do not fear. I am with you always. I’ve overcome the world. Don’t let your heart be troubled.” Why would Jesus say that and not provide? For here’s the amazing promise. When Jesus speaks peace, he gives peace. When he speaks love, he gives love. When he speaks life, he gives life. So when the Lord says, “Don’t be afraid, dear, I’m right here, “ take heart and believe Him. His presence is courage.

When danger comes and you want to bolt, look to the cross of Christ and find courage where his heart bled. When the enemy directs a cannon ball into your mind, put on Christ’s mind instead. Be obedient to Christ, resist the enemy and he will flee. Speak the name of Jesus, most majestic, magnificent, heroic Redeemer – and watch hell’s cowardly minions scatter.
Friede

Lately I’ve been thinking about courage. I am inspired by the thousands of young firefighters on the front lines of epic fires in the West and their courage in the face of extreme danger. As a friend commented: “What is it that makes a person stand in front of a raging inferno of burning trees, violent wind and intense heat and decide to jump into the maelstrom?” It’s a good question. It raises another more personal, more troubling question: “Would I be able to jump into harm’s way for the sake of another? Am I capable of courage? And then a deeper question nags. Am I at all brave for anything dangerous, anything threatening my own very safe, very comfortable life?

Courage is defined simply as “being able to do something that frightens one” or as John Wayne put it, “Courage is being scared to death…and saddling up anyway.” A richer definition in Webster says courage is “mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty.” It is more than an impulsive physical response for it actively involves the will and the mind within a moral core. Courage is both a selfless response to another’s peril and the measure of our response to private fears and calamities. C.S.Lewis adds that “Courage is not simply one of the virtues, but the form of every virtue at the testing point.” Courage will define whether the faith, hope and love we profess are alive in us or merely nice concepts we display like a string of paste diamonds.

Our English word courage comes from the Latin root cor and the French coeur, meaning heart or inner feelings. Heart and courage can be synonymous. We tell a troubled friend, ”Take heart” or “ Don’t lose heart.” We’re speaking words right out of the Old Testament Bible which connects courage and the heart, especially in the Psalms.
Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD. Psalm 31:24
I would have lost heart, unless I had believed…Psalm 27:13
Wait on the Lord.: Be of good courage and He will strengthen your heart. Psalm 27:14

I’m not a particularly brave woman. A snake in the garden can still keep me inside the house until Dan goes after it. The evening news of rising persecutions, riots, and random violence makes me question whether I have courage to withstand evil. Nightmares spike my heart rate to jump rope levels. I’ve been asking God for courage because the testing of my moral courage may still lie in the future. With that comes the risk of my prayer being heard. If I pray for courage, for sure I’ll get an opportunity to face a fearful unknown. Jesus says to take heart even in the testing.

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”John 16:33

By trusting, hoping and waiting on Him, on His Word and most of all on His heart, courage will reside in my heart to rise forth like wings of an eagle.