Imagine

by Holly Burke

Writes Holly: Two years ago, I was inspired to write this poem in response to John Lennon's famous anthem. The main themes are Christ's redemptive work and our hope of eternal life through him.

Imagine there's a heaven,
A home for you and me
Where love, joy and peace abide,
And death and shadows flee.

Imagine there's a Savior
Who came to set us free,
He bore our sins and sorrows
On the cross at Calvary.

Imagine there's a Father
Who hears us when we pray,
He sees His own Son's glory
And not our feet of clay.

Imagine there's a Spirit
Who descends like a dove,
He convicts men of sin
And assures us with God's love.

Imagine all the people
Who live without the Lord,
They shun the call to repent
And trust His holy Word.

Imagine that He calls you
And whispers in your ear:
"Believe in me; do not doubt,
My love casts out all fear."

Thank the Lord this is all true:
It's better than a dream,
I hope someday you'll believe
And join the blessed theme.

Boric Acid for the Soul

by Lorraine Triggs

I attended Moody Bible Institute long before River North was even River North. Old Town still held its mix of seediness and charm and the only Crate & Barrel store in the country was on Wells Street. And a little farther north was subsidized senior housing.

The only reason I knew the housing existed was because it was my “practical Christian work assignment.” No sitting around in the classrooms for us Moody students. Get out there and serve. And so we did in public housing, city churches, at the infamous Cook County Hospital and the county jail (a male-only assignment).

One spring semester, my assignment was at the senior housing and it was there that I met Marie. She had signed up for help with chores and shopping trips. Marie was elderly, elegant and eager to see my partner and me each week. One afternoon, Marie wanted us to clean her cupboards. Simple enough task, right?

We opened the cabinets, took out a can or two of food and screamed. Cockroaches skittered out of the cupboard, fell onto the counter and scampered out of sight behind the floorboards.

“They don’t like the light,” Marie announced, “They will run from it.” She calmly handed us a tin of boric acid to sprinkle in the cupboards in order to kill the roaches.

I thought about those cockroaches the other day as I did my lesson for Women’s Bible Study. I’m sure it wasn’t the study’s intention to make me think of the cockroaches, but for me, it was a good metaphor for the passage we were studying—Ephesians 5:8-14.

One of the questions was “What are some unfruitful works of darkness (v. 11)? What do you think Paul means by telling us to ‘expose’ them?” And that’s when I thought of the cockroaches.

My sin has a lot in common with those cockroaches. They both prefer the darkness, they both run from the light and they both need a strong antidote to get rid of them. But what’s bad news for the cockroaches is good news for my soul.

I need the all-revealing light of God’s Word and a sprinkling of its boric acid-like truth to expose my sins. I need God’s truth—and his people—to block the floorboards and point me back to God’s grace and his forgiveness. I need to be reminded again to walk as a child of the light, and, oh, what joy that is. 

Breaking Free

College Church member Dan Haase writes about death and resurrction this Good Friday. (Dan first posted this on his blog, Gathering Wonder.)

Twenty-five years ago today my mother died.  "36 years young," as my father wrote in her obituary. It happened on Easter Sunday that year, or better stated: Resurrection Sunday.  

through broken soil

what was not there yesterday 

revelation 

Earlier this week, I came across the following simple and yet profound illustration provided by Henri Nouwen in his book, Our Greatest Gift: A Meditation on Dying and Caring.

Recently, a friend told me a story about twins talking to each other in the womb. The sister said to the brother, "I believe there is life after birth." Her brother protested vehemently, "No, no, this is all there is. This is a dark and cozy place, and we have nothing else to do but to cling to the cord that feeds us." The little girl insisted, "There must be something more than this dark place. There must be something else, a place with light where there is freedom to move." Still she could not convince her twin brother. After some silence, the sister said hesitantly, "I have something else to say, and I am afraid you won't believe that, either, but I think there is a mother." Her brother became furious. "A mother!" he shouted. "What are you talking about? I have never seen a mother, and neither have you. What put that idea in your head? As I told you, this place is all we have. Why do you always want more? This is not such a bad place, after all. We have all we need, so let's be content." The sister was quite overwhelmed by her brother's response and for a while didn't dare to say anything more. But she couldn't let go of her thoughts, and since she had only her twin brother to speak to, she finally said, "Don't you feel these squeezes every once in a while? They're quite unpleasant and sometimes even painful." "Yes," he answered. "What's special about that?" "Well," the sister said, "I think that these squeezes are there to get us ready for another place, much more beautiful than this, where we will see our mother face-to-face. Don't you think that is exciting?" The brother didn't answer. He was fed up with the foolish talk of his sister and felt that the best thing would be simply to ignore her and hope that she would leave him alone.

open palms ⎯ 

in the dark before dawn 

birdsong 

I have found a difference between being grateful for something and being grateful in something. My mother's death was a great pain in my life and even these many years later it looms large as a backdrop to my play. There is no gratitude for her loss. However, I have learned to be grateful in the loss and that has made all the difference. My mother gave me two of my greatest gifts: first, she gave me life; second, she gave me her death. Both of these together have caused the last quarter century to be full with meaning.  

sunrise ⎯ 

in the garden 

on my knees 

Psalm 116

 

For Palm Sunday: Fairest Lord Jesus

Reflect on the new lyrics Erik Dewar and Ruth Newby wrote for verses two, three and four of Fairest Lord Jesus as you anticipate King Jesus' arrival on a donkey this Palm Sunday. Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.

Fairest Lord Jesus,
Ruler of all nature,
O Thou of God and man the Son,
Thee will I cherish,
Thee will I honor,
Thou, my soul's glory, joy, and crown.

Humble in spirit,
Emptied as servant,
Thou, Living Bread, from heav'n came down;
Food for the hungry,
Truth for the simple,
To show Thy steadfast love abounds.

Great was Thine anguish,
Heavy was Thy burden,
All of our debt to Thy cross was nailed.
Bruised by the Father,
Mocked by the scoffers,
For sinners Thou hast torn the veil.

Sunrise so splendid,
Morning Star eternal,
Thy fullness shines in endless grace!
Glory-beholding,
Bowing, adoring,
We see Thee now with unveiled face.

Beautiful Savior!
Lord of all nations!
Son of God and Son of Man!
Glory and honor,
Praise, adoration,
Now and forevermore be Thine.

Providential Arrangement

Twenty years ago this month, Barbara Hughes, wife of our former Senior Pastor Kent Hughes, nearly died after a common surgical procedure went awry. Here is their story of God’s providence. Kent first told this story in a Sunday morning sermon in the Book of Luke, “Providential Arrangement.”

One Tuesday morning I checked my wife, Barbara, into a hospital for a common surgical procedure, then sat in the lobby to wait. As I was reading a Chicago Tribune, I was cheerfully greeted by Susie Luchs, who became a friend of my wife’s niece when they had worked together several years earlier in the hospital’s lab. We chatted for a few minutes, and Susie said she would drop by Barbara’s room the next day for a visit.

I did not know then that Susie had gotten up that morning feeling angry and abandoned by God because of constant pain associated with an infertility problem. I also did not know that she normally did not come to the area where I was sitting in the hospital that morning, but had done so to use a nearby ATM.

At 10:00 a.m., the surgeon met with my oldest daughter, Holly, and me and cheerfully told us that everything was fine. Barbara would be in recovery for an hour and a half, and then we could see her. I decided to go home and do a few chores, and we agreed to see Barbara together later. But when I returned, I was met by my worried daughter who informed me they had taken my wife back to surgery, which would take about “fifteen minutes.” Those “fifteen minutes” became another five anxious hours. (All told, I did not see my wife for ten and a half hours.) When the surgeons finally met with us, they told us an artery had been nicked during the original surgery and my wife had lost a liter and a half of blood. In fact she had almost died during surgery.

Thus began a very long, dark night. As the nurses repeatedly changed the dressings it became increasingly apparent that her bleeding was not stopping, and consequently she kept getting weaker. At 1:30 a.m. the next morning I called Susan Fullerton, my associate pastor’s wife, for prayer. I got more than I asked for when the entire church staff arrived within the hour along with several of our friends. They stayed and prayed with us for several hours.

Nevertheless, Barbara continued to decline. Her hemoglobin, which was 14 when she began surgery, hit 4.9. She was without almost two-thirds of her body’s blood. Her heart was racing at about 140 beats per minute in an attempt to keep what little blood she had circulating. And she kept bleeding.

A hematologist was called in and also a kidney specialist. As Barbara, surrounded by busy attendants, was being moved to ICU, Susie Luchs came in with some magazines for Barbara. Realizing she had walked in on a family crisis, she felt like she should not be there. But before leaving she heard Pastor Larry Fullerton tell Barbara’s brother and his wife, “You need to encourage her. She thinks she’s going to die—something about her blood not clotting.”

Susie suddenly remembered doing a blood test years ago on Barbara’s niece and showing the results to a hematologist who then warned the niece that if she ever suffered trauma such as a car accident, she could bleed to death due to a rare blood disorder she had. So Susie now ran to the lab, switched on her computer, called up Barbara’s niece’s records, compared them with Barbara’s workup, and found the same pathology that her niece had had. Susie contacted the doctor, who called the hematologist with the remedy—cryoprecipitate. As soon as the cure began to be administered, the hemorrhage began to slow down.

Later that afternoon Susie visited ICU, and when Barbara saw her, Barbara mumbled to the nurse, “Do you know who this is? This is the girl who saved my life! Do you know what happened?”

“Didn’t somebody accidentally stumble across something?”

“Accidentally?” my wife protested and fell back asleep.

Not only had God done something marvelous for my wife and our family but for Susie, reminding her that he is in charge of life’s complexities. If God could help Barbara, he could also take care of her fertility problems. She could trust him to do the right thing.

But this story is not about Barbara Hughes or Susie Luchs—it is a story about God. What happened to my wife and to Susie Luchs is an empirically verifiable miracle of divine providence. Thank about it:

  • Years ago two bored young lab technicians ran tests on each other, and one learned that the other had a rare clotting disorder. The one with the disorder is my wife’s niece, who now lives on the East Coast.
  • On the day of Barbara’s surgery, the other technician, Susie Luchs, decided to go to a part of the hospital she does not normally go to, saw me, and we discussed Barbara.
  • Susie wanted to see Barbara the next day, but was too to go to her room until her lunch break. Thus Susie arrived at just the right time to hear a revealing conversation about Barbara’s blood not clotting properly.
  • Susie remembered those tests from years before, thus coming up with the missing key for my wife’s recovery.

Susie saved my wife’s life, and she may have saved some of my family’s life in the future, because later tests revealed that Barbara’s brother and our daughter Heather have the same genetic disorder.

But was it Susie who saved Barbara? No. God did! (And if he had chosen not to do so, he would have been just as loving and just as good.)

How awesome God is. He is to be praised above all else. He is adequate in life and death. We can trust God and his glorious providence.

Reprinted with permission from the author, R. Kent Hughes, Luke Volume One: That You May Know the Truth, ©1998 by R. Kent Hughes. Published by Crossway Books.