"Safe in the Father's Arms"

I have been reading from Steve Fry's book. "Safe in the Father's Arms. It's a fantastic book into the depths of suffering and walking through the disappointments that life can throw at us. I think many of us are brought up thinking that if we do good, honor God, and the church, and love Him with all of our hearts that we will be free from trials, loss, rejection, fear, and death. I love the verse, "It rains on the just and the unjust." It's very true that often times, when we are good or not, we must face our giants.
In chapter 16 "Forsaking it All." Steve gives us a really good look at the nature and character of Moses, and the nature and character of God. Moses had just come down from the mountain top and he carried with him the very laws of God. When he reached the bottom of the mountain, the people had made an idol to the Egyptian God's and had received the wrath of God in return for their sin.
After Moses had smashed the tables and vented his frustration onto the people he told them that he would speak with God and see if He would forgive them. Here enters that part that was really something I hadn't thought about until now. Moses asked God to forgive the people, then he said, but, if you can't forgive them, then blot my name out of your book... That was amazing. He was willing to endure eternity without God, for the sake of others. I wondered wether or not I would do something like that. If I knew the entire world would go to heaven, if I would go to hell. I don't know, but there was a lesson in this, that I really feel applies to me right now. Steve asks... " How does this speak to us? How do we bear the consequences of others' faults, mistakes, and sins? By patiently enduring their criticism, allowing them to vent their anger, while remaining kind and open-hearted so they will be emotionally released to find Jesus. By becoming the scapegoat, the one on whom the blame is laid, we can bring about reconciliation.
This was absolutely amazing to me because I am enduring something to which I feel this has tremendous application. a little over a year ago my wife left me. She never told me why originally, she tried explaining later and it had to do with her not feeling loved, feeling I was negative and pessimistic, and controlling. The ironic thing about those statements is that I am, in fact, none of those things. If you know me you might say, annoying at times, forgetful, loud, or unorganized, but of the afore mentioned, I found myself scratching my head. I realized, in the interim of the year that passed, this was not about me. It was about something that had gone on before that my wife had not fully dealt with and as a result of being forced, by the sheer nature of relationship, to examine herself and her feelings, she began to realize that she was truly discontent with who she was and in fact was, more to the point, miserable in our relationship. The feelings of maladjustment, she attributed to our relationship, and so the came to me. I became the reason.
Steve's note on Moses struck a chord with me. I had always asked God to help me love my wife like Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her. That was it. It was time to love unconditionally, to allow her to express her anger, to criticize me, and place blame without reason and love her none the less. I love my wife so much, and I can think of nothing that I would rather do than run to her, scoop her up in my arms, and hold her, but I cannot. At this moment all I can do is love her, forgive her, and, at the present, bear the consequences of those mistakes in the hopes that it will bring about reconciliation. If not between us, then at least in her own life, that she can walk in freedom.

Family Tales

Can you remember where you were when you were growing up and your father told you a story? I hope you had that experience, as it was so foundational in my development. His story's often came to him as he told them and they were new and fresh and exciting. One of my favorite and most memorable occasions came when we were in England. My family had moved there when I was eight. My father was writing stories. We had traveled to Wales. As we were crossing the rolling hills, my mom spotted an especially large hill and at it's base a place to park and walk. My dad immediately followed her hand and pulled the car over. We walked to the top of that mountain. My sister, mother, dad, and me. On the top of the hill, sat, like enormous old men, stuffed from Thanksgiving, immense round rocks. It seemed odd that they had settled this hill top, as the trip to the top seemed more than a fat man would attempt. Yet, there they were, as if dropped from heaven, and on one of the rocks we sat. My young eyes peering in wide excitement at the green blanket stretching as far as I could see. A river, like a silver ribbon, wound its way among the hills. Dad pointed to a large bend where the river wrapped around so sharply that it nearly touched itself again, before veering off in a new direction. "There," He said, "Is where our story begins..." I remembered looking up at his face, ruddy from the cold air and the long climb, and smiling as he began the story of a small boy that lived in a cottage, on a river, by that bend. I became that boy, as I sat, mystified by the hero and his quest to find the reason his river was drying up. Of course, there was a dragon, there has to be a dragon, and as he masterfully worked the story until the sun began to get drowsy and nod its head, fighting to the bitter end to hear the fate of the boy. The ending never came. It was getting dark and the trip back to our car was a long one. I still haven't heard the end of the story, but my dad promised, that when my daughter was old enough, we would return to that hill and hear the rest of the story. For now, the river is dry and our hero frozen with the dragon that caused it all. I hope he can hold still long enough.