During this week of absolution a common phrase had been rallied, even stalwart at times: “Forgive and forget.” After some open-minded discussions we settled upon one definite conclusion about forgiveness. It is a means of expecting a positive change—whether behavioral or emotional, a lesson to be learned. If a child breaks a lamp while rough-housing, his pleas for atonement should be met with an understanding that there are consequences to his actions. In this case, the child would need to understand that he should replace the lamp by forfeiting his allowance or working off the cost in chores. In the end, the child learns to be more careful and sensitive to his surroundings by accepting accountability. However, not all offenses are as easily remedied as broken material items; we also confront matters of varying degree and compile a laundry list of memories we’re not sure we want to sustain.
What we need to understand is that is God’s purpose for us. For us to forget would defeat the very reason God wanted us to learn from the experience when he allowed us to go through the pain in the first place. How can we be expected to forgive if we try to forget the heartaches and affliction God is giving us insight into? We must retain our hardships so we can be of service to Him in reaching out to others. This is how we can begin to show love in return for hatred and not focus on our own needs while neglecting the distress of others. Jesus said in Ephesians 4:31-32, “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” Let this be our instrument to carry out God’s will.
Heavenly Father: Thank you for allowing us to experience our heartaches, disappointments, and sorrows. Allow us to use these as tools to establish your kingdom. Amen
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Older Lifeline Devotionals: Week of November 21, 2007 (Day 4)
It is amazing how the topic of forgiveness can get those figurative wheels turning inside one’s brain. Another student of mine approached me about her struggle with amnesty toward her mother.
When Brittany was eight she walked in on her mother having an affair with someone who was not her father. Such a traumatic experience shaped her spite around her mother—especially when at that moment her mother’s words to her were, “I hope you’re happy” Her mother’s words have echoed in her head and pierced her heart repeatedly like little daggers, causing a rift between her and the slightest chance for reparation. She was even more devastated when her father was diagnosed with a disease similar to ALS. Even amidst his depreciating health, Brittany’s father forgave her mother, something of which she has never been able to understand—until now.
She told me that although it is difficult for her to look at her mother once again with admiration, she is learning through her father’s remaining time that making amends may outweigh the alternative. And even more impressive were her words in retort to her mother’s: “I know that not only will I be happy when I can let go of all of this, but maybe my mother will be, too. I pray that day will be soon, for both of our sakes.”
Heavenly Father: Guide our words so that they fall like feathers on our foes and not like bricks on their toes.
When Brittany was eight she walked in on her mother having an affair with someone who was not her father. Such a traumatic experience shaped her spite around her mother—especially when at that moment her mother’s words to her were, “I hope you’re happy” Her mother’s words have echoed in her head and pierced her heart repeatedly like little daggers, causing a rift between her and the slightest chance for reparation. She was even more devastated when her father was diagnosed with a disease similar to ALS. Even amidst his depreciating health, Brittany’s father forgave her mother, something of which she has never been able to understand—until now.
She told me that although it is difficult for her to look at her mother once again with admiration, she is learning through her father’s remaining time that making amends may outweigh the alternative. And even more impressive were her words in retort to her mother’s: “I know that not only will I be happy when I can let go of all of this, but maybe my mother will be, too. I pray that day will be soon, for both of our sakes.”
Heavenly Father: Guide our words so that they fall like feathers on our foes and not like bricks on their toes.
Older Lifeline Devotionals: Week of November 21, 2007 (Day 3)
As an English instructor I try to discourage the use of clichés. However, last week my class proved that sometimes they are the teacher and I am the student.
Excited about this week’s sermon, I was curious to hear what my class of diverse, troubled teenagers had to say about forgiveness. Jerome asked if he could share his journal entry with the class—and you.
When he was six years old, Jerome’s mother lost her battle with cancer. At the funeral, family members hugged him, kissed him, told him he “was going to be ok—his father would take care of him.” During the viewing, his father lifted him, clutched him, and let him see his mother one last time. When his father set him down they were both crying. What Jerome didn’t know was that he would lose both his parents on that day. Jerome’s uncle brought him a picture of his mother and his father walked away—right out of Jerome’s life.
Now 16, Jerome explained that during his transition he resented people, especially any man that tried to be a father figure. He didn’t talk about his experiences. Instead he acted on his anger. In middle school he realized that his actions were hurting others and he did not want to scar other people the way he had been. Alone one day, Jerome spoke out loud: “Father, wherever you are, whatever your reason for leaving me that day—I forgive you. I am sorry, too.” Jerome now seeks out those whom he has hurt.
Even with my fancy degree framed and hanging on the wall, once again, they are often the teacher and I the student. In Matthew 18: 3-4 Jesus states, “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”
Heavenly Father: Help us to discern that some things are not our fault, yet forgiveness is still a means to set us free. Amen
Excited about this week’s sermon, I was curious to hear what my class of diverse, troubled teenagers had to say about forgiveness. Jerome asked if he could share his journal entry with the class—and you.
When he was six years old, Jerome’s mother lost her battle with cancer. At the funeral, family members hugged him, kissed him, told him he “was going to be ok—his father would take care of him.” During the viewing, his father lifted him, clutched him, and let him see his mother one last time. When his father set him down they were both crying. What Jerome didn’t know was that he would lose both his parents on that day. Jerome’s uncle brought him a picture of his mother and his father walked away—right out of Jerome’s life.
Now 16, Jerome explained that during his transition he resented people, especially any man that tried to be a father figure. He didn’t talk about his experiences. Instead he acted on his anger. In middle school he realized that his actions were hurting others and he did not want to scar other people the way he had been. Alone one day, Jerome spoke out loud: “Father, wherever you are, whatever your reason for leaving me that day—I forgive you. I am sorry, too.” Jerome now seeks out those whom he has hurt.
Even with my fancy degree framed and hanging on the wall, once again, they are often the teacher and I the student. In Matthew 18: 3-4 Jesus states, “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”
Heavenly Father: Help us to discern that some things are not our fault, yet forgiveness is still a means to set us free. Amen
Older Lifeline Devotionals: Week of November 21, 2007 (Day 2)
A dear friend of mine, we’ll call her “Dee”, took one of her dogs to a new veterinarian. While in the waiting room, a large man entered with a box of puppies. She describes this man as tall in stature, like John Coffey from the film The Green Mile. His pit bull puppies were in bad condition, gnawed ears and tails. The mother had been killed by a car. One of the rooms had been contaminated with parvovirus, a deadly disease of dogs. Dee was asked to sit in the waiting room. The man with the puppies attempted to come out into the waiting room as well, and Dee, whose dog had not been vaccinated for parvo, told him to wait until she moved, a gesture in which he took as racist action. He immediately took offense and belittled Dee with choice language and told her his money was as good as hers, again adding explicit language and catching everyone’s attention. Dee paid for her visit, but at that moment she said she felt overcome by Christ and also wrote a blank check to pay for the impolite man. The woman behind the counter stood amazed and said, “After all he said to you?”
Dee did not know the direct impact her action of forgiveness had until weeks later when she received a letter in the mail:
“I don’t know your name, but we met not on the best of terms. I don’t know why GOD put you in my pathway, but now I want to say thank you for the GIFT from you to me and my puppies. They are doing fine now and maybe one day our paths will cross again. Thanks again. Signed, with love and peace.”
Heavenly Father: Help us to travel our pathways and give the gift of forgiveness that you grant us. Amen.
Dee did not know the direct impact her action of forgiveness had until weeks later when she received a letter in the mail:
“I don’t know your name, but we met not on the best of terms. I don’t know why GOD put you in my pathway, but now I want to say thank you for the GIFT from you to me and my puppies. They are doing fine now and maybe one day our paths will cross again. Thanks again. Signed, with love and peace.”
Heavenly Father: Help us to travel our pathways and give the gift of forgiveness that you grant us. Amen.
Older Lifeline Devotionals: Week of November 21, 2007 (Day 1)
This week we look at Luke 23:33-43 and concentrate on forgiveness.
“Forgiveness”, as defined by Webster’s New World Dictionary, means “to give up resentment against or the desire to punish; pardon (an offense or offender).”
As nails were being driven through his hands and feet, Jesus still forgave his oppressors: “Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” He forgave them still as people stood throwing insults at him, mocking him, taunting him to come down from the cross “if you are the king of the Jews.” Notice Jesus didn’t strike them down right on the spot, or smirk with animosity. He speaks on their behalf to God asking that they be exonerated. How often do we refrain from bantering confrontation? From thinking “I deserve an apology”? Or from thinking we need to get even because we have been wronged? How often do we seek out the one we have hurt, mocked, or ostracized and said, “I am sorry, please forgive me”?
Jesus’ forgiveness toward those who crucified him in action and word is understandable in the Bible, but what about modern day? Where do we fit in? How are we supposed to replicate these actions? As this week continues we will witness one of God’s greatest gifts in action in the “here and now.”
Heavenly Father: Please help us humble our hearts to “forgive those who trespass against us” and more importantly, seek out those who would need to forgive us. Amen.
“Forgiveness”, as defined by Webster’s New World Dictionary, means “to give up resentment against or the desire to punish; pardon (an offense or offender).”
As nails were being driven through his hands and feet, Jesus still forgave his oppressors: “Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.” He forgave them still as people stood throwing insults at him, mocking him, taunting him to come down from the cross “if you are the king of the Jews.” Notice Jesus didn’t strike them down right on the spot, or smirk with animosity. He speaks on their behalf to God asking that they be exonerated. How often do we refrain from bantering confrontation? From thinking “I deserve an apology”? Or from thinking we need to get even because we have been wronged? How often do we seek out the one we have hurt, mocked, or ostracized and said, “I am sorry, please forgive me”?
Jesus’ forgiveness toward those who crucified him in action and word is understandable in the Bible, but what about modern day? Where do we fit in? How are we supposed to replicate these actions? As this week continues we will witness one of God’s greatest gifts in action in the “here and now.”
Heavenly Father: Please help us humble our hearts to “forgive those who trespass against us” and more importantly, seek out those who would need to forgive us. Amen.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Mean It
When I was a summer camp counselor an instructor once taught us about positive reinforcement when reprimanding a camper. He guided us to say, “Love you—mean it!” I found this saying to be silly at first, but I am not one to just ditch a constructive idea without at least trying it first. So as I began lecturing a camper about sneaking out at night to visit the girls camp I paused for a moment and while he held his head low I said, “Hey—love you. Mean it.” His demeanor changed after that encounter; he began to seek me out in confidence about personal matters and would ask me for advice. Regretfully, I never heard from him again after his two weeks at camp.
Years later as I began my career as a teacher, I attempted to carry this same concept into my classroom, but I would not let it end after a two week stint.
It is an unwelcome custom for teachers to share gossip about certain students before the first few days of school—to make them aware of what they had to look forward to. I found that when exposed to this ideal I would have preconceived judgments about such students and this only complicated our encounters. After some thought about how God does not hold grudges, I considered, “Who am I to prejudge?” After all, He knows our every thought and still continues to hold us dear. The next year I avoided the naysayers and opened each class by stating, “I don’t care about what negative image you may have. You have a chance to be a new person in here. In this classroom you will be loved. Starting today you have a new family— a family that will accept you and love you any time you need it. The only stipulation is that you must be willing to love others.”
I am not writing this to imply that I am God’s gift to teaching, but I know that I am one of God’s gifts. Just like all of my students—just like all of you. Jesus was God’s gift to the world much in the same way salvation is a gift to you. But the best part is you don't have to earn it. You don't have to overcompensate by justifying your existence or do something wonderful or important to "make your life meaningful." You are loved by God through Jesus Christ. And in response for the life Jesus gives, and even eternal life, he asks of us to be his church. To take care of His sheep. To love others. To love Him—and mean it.
Years later as I began my career as a teacher, I attempted to carry this same concept into my classroom, but I would not let it end after a two week stint.
It is an unwelcome custom for teachers to share gossip about certain students before the first few days of school—to make them aware of what they had to look forward to. I found that when exposed to this ideal I would have preconceived judgments about such students and this only complicated our encounters. After some thought about how God does not hold grudges, I considered, “Who am I to prejudge?” After all, He knows our every thought and still continues to hold us dear. The next year I avoided the naysayers and opened each class by stating, “I don’t care about what negative image you may have. You have a chance to be a new person in here. In this classroom you will be loved. Starting today you have a new family— a family that will accept you and love you any time you need it. The only stipulation is that you must be willing to love others.”
I am not writing this to imply that I am God’s gift to teaching, but I know that I am one of God’s gifts. Just like all of my students—just like all of you. Jesus was God’s gift to the world much in the same way salvation is a gift to you. But the best part is you don't have to earn it. You don't have to overcompensate by justifying your existence or do something wonderful or important to "make your life meaningful." You are loved by God through Jesus Christ. And in response for the life Jesus gives, and even eternal life, he asks of us to be his church. To take care of His sheep. To love others. To love Him—and mean it.
Embraced
To say that Tash had a short temper would be a huge understatement. He once put another student into the hospital with a busted face and few broken ribs for taking a potato chip from him. Tash may have been 5 foot 3, but he walked the halls as if he were 7 feet tall, and the rest of the student body saw him that way too. His presence in any classroom was as the alpha male, and Tash didn’t even have to say a word. When he did speak, it wasn’t much but still carried the same weight as his punch. So when I showed clips from the film The War during class one day, I wasn’t prepared for what happened. In the film there is a sentimental moment between a young boy and his father where they embrace in tears and the father tells his son, “I love you.” The class was silent as they answered questions on their viewing guide, except for one voice which said, “I’d give anything for that.” We didn’t need to look up to know who said it; we all knew whose deep and quiet voice it belonged to—Tash. One student was brave enough to ask Tash what he meant. “I’d give anything for my father to hold me like that. I’d give anything to hear my father tell me he loves me the way he just told his son.” As his teacher I could only imagine what pain Tash had been through to encourage his aggressive behavior and what would prompt him to say that.
The cry of Tash's heart spoke volumes to me and my entire classroom. We all long for the assurance of knowing we are loved and when things are missing from our lives, be it a father, a career, a loved one or whatever we may cling to, we feel lost. That is, until we hear the cry of Jesus' heart and realize that His heart longs for us greater even than Tash longs for his father, and we hear Him call us gently to follow him (v. 19). He proved this love when He died for my sins, your sins, and Tash's sins. We have assurance in a Father who will embrace us and tell us, "I love you" over and over again—no matter what our past holds.
The cry of Tash's heart spoke volumes to me and my entire classroom. We all long for the assurance of knowing we are loved and when things are missing from our lives, be it a father, a career, a loved one or whatever we may cling to, we feel lost. That is, until we hear the cry of Jesus' heart and realize that His heart longs for us greater even than Tash longs for his father, and we hear Him call us gently to follow him (v. 19). He proved this love when He died for my sins, your sins, and Tash's sins. We have assurance in a Father who will embrace us and tell us, "I love you" over and over again—no matter what our past holds.
Letter to the Debtor
My past is laden with sin. I have mocked and teased people because of physical and mental disabilities. I have stolen money and other items. I have slandered people I love and even those I do not know. I have knowingly defied God in deed and in word. And I have hit rock bottom. It was there that Jesus asked me for the countless time, “Do you love me?” When I finally submitted fully it was then I heard Him say, much in the way He said to Peter, “Then take care of my sheep.”
I didn’t really know what it all meant. I had self doubt in my abilities to do anything to honor God. I felt a calling to be a high school teacher and was drawn to struggling students who held a similar past to mine. I prayed for acknowledgment to make sure I was tending to the herd. He answered in a letter from Brittany.
“Dear Mr. Collier—I just wanted to take the time to write that you are definitely one of the best teachers I have had. Your class has taught me a lot about life, choices, and has made me have a different attitude about teachers. When I first got in this class I thought we would be reading book after book, taking no thought in the meaning of the literature or make any connections to our lives. As we started this class, I realized you took our class to a more personal level, and as you’ve said, you try to make the feeling of family. By you sharing your personal past, and taking the time to allow us to do the same, I realized that you are here for more than just a paycheck. I know that when we started reading Tuesdays With Morrie I actually made a connection to Morrie and you. Unlike other classes, every film we watched in here made me feel that I could do anything when I walked out the door. I hope that on days when you get discouraged you remember that even if students don’t admit it, you have made a difference in peoples’ lives, even if only for a day….because you have in mine.”
Even when our pasts are riddled with sin we can take heart in Christ's call on Peter even after Peter had denied the Lord three times. God redeems our past and gives us promise for the future. Although I falter daily in my walk and promise to take care of His sheep, I keep this letter to remind me that God uses even the chief of sinners for His glory and that when I am willing to do God's will He is eager to respond in affirmation.
I didn’t really know what it all meant. I had self doubt in my abilities to do anything to honor God. I felt a calling to be a high school teacher and was drawn to struggling students who held a similar past to mine. I prayed for acknowledgment to make sure I was tending to the herd. He answered in a letter from Brittany.
“Dear Mr. Collier—I just wanted to take the time to write that you are definitely one of the best teachers I have had. Your class has taught me a lot about life, choices, and has made me have a different attitude about teachers. When I first got in this class I thought we would be reading book after book, taking no thought in the meaning of the literature or make any connections to our lives. As we started this class, I realized you took our class to a more personal level, and as you’ve said, you try to make the feeling of family. By you sharing your personal past, and taking the time to allow us to do the same, I realized that you are here for more than just a paycheck. I know that when we started reading Tuesdays With Morrie I actually made a connection to Morrie and you. Unlike other classes, every film we watched in here made me feel that I could do anything when I walked out the door. I hope that on days when you get discouraged you remember that even if students don’t admit it, you have made a difference in peoples’ lives, even if only for a day….because you have in mine.”
Even when our pasts are riddled with sin we can take heart in Christ's call on Peter even after Peter had denied the Lord three times. God redeems our past and gives us promise for the future. Although I falter daily in my walk and promise to take care of His sheep, I keep this letter to remind me that God uses even the chief of sinners for His glory and that when I am willing to do God's will He is eager to respond in affirmation.
What About Him?
Any time I hand back an essay, test, quiz, or project it usually doesn’t take long for one of my students to approach me and question me about the grade they received. The numerous remarks and comments I write on their papers do not seem to quench their desire to ask me, “Why?” So I sit down with him/her and try to point out the strengths and areas for improvement. This is sometimes followed by the student’s emphatic reply of, “But I worked harder than (insert name) and he/she got a better grade!”
This type of student behavior is also conjured when I have to reprimand a student for his/her inappropriate behavior in class: “But what about (insert name)? He/she said the same thing and didn’t get in trouble!”
When Peter questions Jesus about His intentions for John, he is basically saying, “Hey, if I have to die for Your name, Jesus, what about this guy? Will he be martyred too?"
How similar a comment it is to that of my frustrated students. And how similar a retort it is to when God calls us to do something that we may find unfair or uncomfortable.
This type of student behavior is also conjured when I have to reprimand a student for his/her inappropriate behavior in class: “But what about (insert name)? He/she said the same thing and didn’t get in trouble!”
When Peter questions Jesus about His intentions for John, he is basically saying, “Hey, if I have to die for Your name, Jesus, what about this guy? Will he be martyred too?"
How similar a comment it is to that of my frustrated students. And how similar a retort it is to when God calls us to do something that we may find unfair or uncomfortable.
Love Is Like Ice Cream
This past Thanksgiving holiday I made the two and a half hour trip from Monroe to Etowah to visit with my mom. My mother had invited others over from the community who either had no one coming to visit or did not have a place to go, including her neighbor Dorthy, an 86 year old widow. During other stays with my mom I usually stop in to see Dorthy and bring her meals and talk. She and I will sit in her dated kitchen and discuss life and television programs that disgust her. But all conversations are a segue into her past life with her late husband Tony. She met Tony while he was stationed in Belgium during WWII. In her thick accent she uncovers a love story that is still being written, a tale that seems right out of a novel or off of the silver screen, a chronicle of a young soldier who told a woman he would not return to the states without her, who sat on a couch in front of her parents separated by a language barrier and explained his intentions to marry. Tears are never in short supply while Dorthy turns each page.
After forty years of marriage, the happily ever after tale came to an abrupt halt when Tony went to the hospital one night seven years ago. Because Dorthy was unable to travel easily, my mother visited him and would report back the news each day. Tony did not take to the hospital food easily, so my mom would bring him strawberry milkshakes, something of which he looked forward to each day and would skip his trayed food. After a few days Tony passed away and Dorthy’s storybook ending was crushed.
Seven years after Tony’s death Dorthy sat across from me at the dining room table and shared how she and Tony still held hands up until his death. She ate turkey, stuffing, and casseroles. She gave a traditional after meal blessing in French. And as she ate ice cream for dessert she broke into tears. She said the ice cream reminded her of when Tony was in the hospital and my mom would visit him. Although she misses Tony and is often moved to tears, she shared with me that their time together was one of God’s ways of letting her know He loves her.
Sometimes we take things for granted and don’t see God’s love in every day things or the people we encounter. In some ways these experiences are miracles—they can be God’s way of taking care of His sheep. So how then do we fulfill Jesus’ request to take care of His sheep? How will we answer when Jesus asks us, “Do you love me?” Will we love Him like ice cream?
After forty years of marriage, the happily ever after tale came to an abrupt halt when Tony went to the hospital one night seven years ago. Because Dorthy was unable to travel easily, my mother visited him and would report back the news each day. Tony did not take to the hospital food easily, so my mom would bring him strawberry milkshakes, something of which he looked forward to each day and would skip his trayed food. After a few days Tony passed away and Dorthy’s storybook ending was crushed.
Seven years after Tony’s death Dorthy sat across from me at the dining room table and shared how she and Tony still held hands up until his death. She ate turkey, stuffing, and casseroles. She gave a traditional after meal blessing in French. And as she ate ice cream for dessert she broke into tears. She said the ice cream reminded her of when Tony was in the hospital and my mom would visit him. Although she misses Tony and is often moved to tears, she shared with me that their time together was one of God’s ways of letting her know He loves her.
Sometimes we take things for granted and don’t see God’s love in every day things or the people we encounter. In some ways these experiences are miracles—they can be God’s way of taking care of His sheep. So how then do we fulfill Jesus’ request to take care of His sheep? How will we answer when Jesus asks us, “Do you love me?” Will we love Him like ice cream?
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