A Christmas Concert for Those Who Hurt

          Blessed Christmas, dear reader (and listener)! This blog post is unusual in that it’s loaded with music, chosen just for you.

          Oh, you may say, “I don’t want to hear music now—especially Christmas music. I’m raw. Broken. At the end of myself. The hurt in me is so deep, nothing can give me joy. Not even the birth of Jesus.”

          We might not have experienced the same hurt you hold. But I can tell you there was a time we were so deeply sunk in despair that my husband—a singer his whole life—stopped singing for years.

          What carried us through the most difficult years of our lives? Prayers of caring believers for sure, but in a big way music was our balm. Healer. And, although we didn’t want to go through Christmas when our emotions were so raw, in time we came to realize Christmas didn’t hurt us. It brought Hope—the Promised One Who heals us from our hurts.

          The coming of the promised Messiah—Savior of the world—foretold long before the Babe was born! Here’s a portion of Old Testament Scripture sharing this promised Hope to the broken:

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me, because the Lord has anointed Me

to preach good tidings to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,

to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound…

To comfort all who mourn, to console those who mourn in Zion,

to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning,

the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called

trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”

Isaiah 61:1,2a, 3

          This year a number of our friends have experienced deeper pain than I can even fathom. So much sorrow! I thought, Sarah, what can you share this Christmas that will minister to them?

          Music! More specifically songs from ones who hurt, who knew incredibly deep pain, who’ve “been there.”

          My gift to you, dear hurting souls? A Christmas concert, so to speak.

          Let’s begin our “program” with a carol of yearning, waiting, expecting the birth of the promised Messiah—Come, Thou Long Expected Jesus—original words by Charles Wesley, no stranger to tragedy. Charles and his wife suffered deep loss. Only three of their eight children lived beyond infancy. Can you imagine their grief?

          When I listened to this selection, I was struck to the core by these words:

“Come to earth to taste our sadness, He Whose glories knew no end.

By His Life He brings us gladness, our Redeemer, Shepherd, Friend.”

 

          Beautifully presented to you by Keith & Kristyn Getty—please listen and let the words of promise help lift you.

Keith & Kristyn Getty sing:

Come Thou Long Expected Jesus (Performance Video) - Keith & Kristyn Getty - YouTube

 

          Another couple who’d empathize with families like the Wesleys lived in my lifetime—Roy Rogers and Dale Evans Rogers—well known in the last century of radio and television.

          Roy and Dale both experienced broken marriages. Then Roy lost his second wife due to complications from childbirth. Later with wife Dale they would bury three of their nine children. They both came to know Jesus as their Savior and Lord, and they gave the credit to Him for bringing them through their grief and sorrow.

          I’ve chosen one of the songs from the Roger’s Christmas album—this one because so many people asked this year if I was ready for Christmas.

          My reply? “I have Jesus in my heart and life, so it’s Christmas all year. Yep, I’m all set!”

          Some smiled and moved on, others gave it some thought, and a few added, “I have Him in my heart too!”

          Dale expresses this in our next concert number.

Dale Evans Rogers sings:

Christmas Is Always

 

          Our next segment holds four carols along with thoughts from Ken & Joni Tada and a friend. (You may wish to listen to all of it or go to the time stamps where Joni sings.)

 

          Now, Joni also shares from a life that’s been broken—quite literally. As a teen she dove into shallow water and broke her neck, leaving her paralyzed from the neck down. She battled with anger, bitterness, and depression a long while before she accepted her “new normal” and her sitting-downness. Yes, the rest of her life in a wheelchair. Joni wasn’t healed in her body, but her mind and spirit were. She uses her life gloriously for the God she adores!

          I met Joni nearly fifty years ago. I remember telling my mom then, “I think she’s the most charismatic person I’ve ever met.” The real deal! Her exuberance for life bubbles over.

          Joni also suffers with chronic traumatic injury pain and has battled cancer twice, yet she still holds to her faith in her Savior.

          In the broadcast Joni says, “Here we are, preparing for another celebration of the birth of Jesus into our dark world. It’s what Advent’s all about. Preparing our tired hearts to receive in a fresh new way our Savior and our King.”

Joni Eareckson Tada sings and shares:

The Spirit of Christmas with Joni Eareckson Tada

(Carols are at time stamps 0:18, 3:29, 12:44, 18:29, & 24:09.)

 

          A bereaved mother who buried her three-and-a-half-year-old daughter this summer introduced me to this next song. It speaks deeply to many roots of brokenness. Here are portions of its writers’ testimonies:

          Lisa: “I was struggling…a long year and a half. Finances were stressful, I miscarried twins…I was battling a deep relational bitterness...

           ‘O come all you faithful, joyful and triumphant.’ I remember hearing those words and thinking, I have been so unfaithful. My joy has dwindled, and I am a triumphant failure. Is that really who is invited to come to Jesus? The faithful? The joyful? The triumphant? If so, then I am hopeless.

          Thankfully, later that afternoon the Holy Spirit reminded me of Jesus’s invitation in Matthew 11:28—Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest…Rest found in his life, his death, and his resurrection, not my own.

          That evening I had a strong conviction to write a song for myself and for the weary, the broken, and the ashamed. (from “Worship Matters” – The Story Behind O Come, All You Unfaithful)

          Bob: “…fear, hopelessness, depression, detachment anxiety, and emptiness became my daily companions…Apart from Jesus, I was completely hopeless and had every reason to fear. But Jesus died on the cross to save hopeless and fearful people. And I was one of them.

          That thought process…pointed me again and again to the Savior I needed more than I had ever realized. He gave me a deeper trust in the care of my heavenly Father, a more passionate love fore Jesus and the gospel, and a greater awareness of his Spirit’s presence.” (from “Desiring God” – May 16, 2019)

Bob Kauflin & Lisa Clow with O Come, All You Unfaithful:

O Come, All You Unfaithful • Official Video - YouTube

          Poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow found himself in deep despair during the Civil War. But this wasn’t his first meeting with sorrow. Years before, his beloved wife’s dress accidentally caught fire. Although Henry tried to extinguish the flames, being badly burned himself, he couldn’t save his wife.

          Their oldest son fought in the War Between the States. When Henry received word his firstborn took a bullet near the spine with fear he’d be paralyzed, he again mourned.

          It was then he heard the bells ringing out and penned the transition his heart and spirit went through when the meaning of Christmas reached him.

          Here’s a beautiful rendition of Mr. Longfellow’s poem:

The Collingsworth family sing the words of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow:

I Heard The Bells on Christmas Day | The Collingsworth Family | Official Performance Video

 

          Thank you for “coming” to this Christmas Concert. My hope and prayer? That you grasp hold of Hope—Jesus, sense the peace He freely offers you while you rest in His Arms, and come to firmly understand He can heal your brokenness if you but allow.

 

“…lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” –Jesus

(Matthew 28:20)

 

This concert is dedicated in memory of

Everly Grace, Samantha Grace, & Hannah Marie.

 

 

#Christmas #suffering #hurting #tragedy #death #depression #nativity #birthofJesus #music

#JoniEarecksonTada #BobKauflin #LisaClow #HenryWadsworthLongfellow #CivilWar

#KeithKristynGetty #RoyRogers #DaleEvansRogers #carols

 

Credits: stockadobe.com & YouTube 

An Odd Christmas

           Travel back with me to the late 1990s. We’re going to revisit what I’d call an odd Christmas. At least it seemed that to me.

          Our dear friends, Glenn and Karen had recently moved his dad to live near them. Ed was a most pleasant gentleman. A Korean War veteran, avid model plane maker, and Christmas enthusiast extraordinaire! He also had a heart of gold and would’ve given the shirt off his back to anyone in need.

          Ed had a child-like faith. He knew of God from his Catholic upbringing, but we didn’t know how much he understood about a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.

          This particular year, Glenn and Karen invited us to come celebrate Jesus’ Birthday with them—dinner, gifts, the works! We were thrilled with this invite and set out to purchase our gifts for them.

          “What should we get Ed?” I asked my hubby.

          “Does he have a Bible?”

          “I don’t know. Maybe I can check with Glenn and Karen about that.” But I didn’t because, for some reason, although a Bible would’ve been our first choice, I didn’t have a peace about it.

          No peace about giving someone a Bible? What! That seemed crazy. Here we were—missionaries to the area, there to present the Gospel in any way possible. And inside myself says “hold off on the Bible?”

          I pondered this and thought maybe it was because such a precious Book should be given to Ed by his family. That’s it! Must be! We’re just not supposed to be the ones to get him a Bible.

          So next, being I’m the chief gift-buyer in the family, I figured we’d buy Ed some Christmas CDs. Of course! That must be what God would want us to do.

          But the same sense came over me as I explored a special catalog we bought our music from. It offered discounted prices not only on Christian music options but classical and more down-to-earth secular selections too.

          What in the world! Ed absolutely loves Christmas. Why wouldn’t we get him the next best thing—good Christmas carols?

          I didn’t realize it at the time, but we were being led in a different direction—one I entirely didn’t understand, and one—I admit—I didn’t even consult with my husband lest he wonder what had come over me.

          Inside myself, a voice kept saying, “Glenn Miller and his orchestra.” You’ve got to be kidding!

          But the whisper repeated the message.

          So, I ordered Glenn Miller and His Orchestra CDs. Not a Bible. No Christmas carols.

          I was embarrassed.

          The day came when Brian asked, “So did you get Ed some nice Christmas music?”

          “Um, no.”

          “So what did you order?”

          I stood there sheepishly. “Uh, something else. Glenn Miller and His Orchestra?”

          “Why did you choose that?”

          I knew why. That whisper. The one repeating the message, but I couldn’t confess that. “I, um, I just did.”

          “Ooo-kaaay.” Brian’s bewildered expression faded.

          No more was said about our gift. Our secular gift with no ties to Jesus.

          The evening arrived when we traveled across town to Glenn and Karen’s with our share of the meal and wrapped gifts for the couple, their kids…

          …and Ed.

          I carried our casserole dish into the kitchen and placed it near the other food.

          Karen gave me a hug then asked, “What did you get Ed for Christmas?”

          She had to ask me that??? “CDs. Glenn Miller and His Orchestra.”

          Karen clapped for joy! “How did you know?”

          “Know what?” I asked.

          “That Glenn Miller’s his favorite! That’s the reason he named his son Glenn!”

          I could hardly believe my ears. “Seriously???”

          “Yep. He’s really gonna love his gift!”

          Now, jump forward to present time. I still wonder about that message—the whisper. Still small voice. I mean, it seemed so odd.

          Did we just need to get acquainted with Ed on a friend level first? Would a Bible or Christian Christmas music have been too much too soon?

          Reader, what do you think?

          I think sometimes we believers, in our efforts to spread the Good News, proverbially hit people over the head with the Gospel rather than forming a friendship with them first. Yes, there are times we need to share Christ immediately because we won’t see a person again—maybe ever—and we mustn’t miss an opportunity to plant a Gospel seed.

          But are there truly times when we need to become friends first? Build a trust? A bridge? And that Christmas decades ago—were we obeying a command that, in turn, opened other times when we’d talk with Ed about Jesus?

          And may I not forget Ed was in very good hands with his son and daughter-in-law who loved the Lord with all their hearts, held a deep understanding of The Word, and lived out Jesus in their home. Ed was, in that sense, with loved ones who would minister to him. Undeniably.

          In this particular instance, I believe we did the right thing, strange as it seemed. It only happened that way once. Never since. And we did become friends with Ed and shared other visits over the remainder of his years on earth. He even invited our kids, who didn’t have a grandfather, to call him Grandpa.

          Reader, has this ever happened to you? Oh, I don’t mean that the Holy Spirit necessarily whispered, “Glenn Miller.” But did He prompt you in another direction for a time while you formed a friendship?

          As you prepare for the birthday of the Christ Child—our Lord and Savior—don’t be overly shocked if God directs you to a gift choice you question. Maybe by waiting to give the other gifts—a Bible, Christian music, biblical reads, etc.—He’s preparing the receiver to listen to someone whom he calls “friend.”

          Glenn (no, not Miller), Ed’s son, said his favorite Christmas song is O Holy Night, so I’ll share that with you now. And guess who’s playing it! Glenn (yes, Miller)!

Glenn Miller Orchestra - In the Christmas Mood (1991) [Full Album]

Click on the link. O Holy Night is on Track 2 which starts at timestamp 3:50.

 

          And here are the lyrics to verses one and three:

 

“O holy night! The stars are brightly shining;

It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,

Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope- the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!
Fall on your knees! O hear the angel voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night, O night divine!

 

Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother,
And in His name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we;
Let all within us praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! O praise His name forever!
His pow’r and glory evermore proclaim!
His pow’r and glory evermore proclaim!”

 

P.S.—Glenn (Ed’s son) carries on his father’s love of Christmas and decorates beautifully in- and outside their home. The Christmas village at the beginning of this post was part of Ed’s collection. Neighbors and family came to see his display each year.

Yes, Ed was “Mr. Christmas” to so many.

 

#Christmas #JesusBirthday #GlennMiller #Christmasmusic #friendshipevangelism

Photo credit:

Glenn & Karen

album cover from online

When Sharon Came Out of Her Shell~An Adoption Story

          A very special friend accepted my invitation to guest blog during Adoption Awareness Month. Sharon Fieker Cummins, co-founder of Adoption Triad of the Ozarks in 2003 (a peer support group for lives affected by adoption decisions) and co-facilitator of the Birth Parent Peer Support Group for Adoption Knowledge Affiliates, has connected with many on their adoption journey.

          Why is Sharon so involved with adoption? She can tell you best…

          “I recently attended a Concerned United Birthparents Retreat. We were asked to tell our stories, starting with: “If only I had said…”

          Here’s what I shared: “If only I had said: Mom, would you and Dad let me move back home with my baby until I can get a job and settled again?”

          My Adoption Awareness began in 1969 when I learned I was pregnant. My boyfriend's reaction? "I don't care what you do; it's your problem." He left, and I haven't seen him since.

          I felt adoption was the only option so my baby could have both a loving mother and father. I went to Kansas City, Kansas, to live with my oldest brother and his family until my baby was born.

          I hemorrhaged, almost died, and received blood transfusions after my daughter's birth. I didn't see her. Signs on the doors prevented her from being brought to my room, and I wasn't allowed to leave mine.

          A social worker told me to go on with my life like this didn't happen. I tried to do just that, smiling often so no one would notice how I really felt on the inside.

          I was raised in a Christian home but strayed from God because I felt so unworthy. I returned to Springfield, Missouri, after my daughter's birth and worked as a legal secretary.

          Five years after her birth, I began employment at the local police department in a non-sworn capacity. Four months later, a lady named Jeanette started working there.

          A former co-worker told me, "You're going to have a new employee. She's a birth mom. She gave up her baby for adoption. Can you believe that?"

          I changed the subject and didn't discuss it further—not even with Jeanette, the first birth mom I ever met. We worked side by side 21 years before I told her my story.

          In 1993, I reunited with Jesus Christ.

          On February 2, 1995, I received a phone call that quickly got my attention:

          "In 1969 you gave up a baby girl for adoption; she wants to see you now."

          I started crying.

          She told me, "Your daughter's name is Lori, and she was raised in Kansas City. Can she call you later tonight?"

          "Yes!"

          Lori called, and we were reunited nine days later.

          The past 29 years, I attended Lori's wedding and later became Grandma Sharon twice. Nineteen years ago, I married for the first time. Lori and her family were there for Roger and me, along with his 2 sons. I also became Grandma Sharon to Roger’s grandchild. I was happier than I ever thought possible!

          Because of how my life changed, I wanted to help others. I published a book, co-founded a local peer support group in Springfield, and vowed to help adopted adults in Missouri be able to request their original birth certificates—like Lori did in Kansas.

          Jeanette and I retired from the police department the same day after 28 years. Lori and her family came to our retirement party. I asked Jeanette to join me on several trips to Jefferson City to talk with legislators. It took many Missouri volunteers 16 long years, but we got the laws changed!

          While in Jefferson City, Jeanette met a lady named Heather who later found her son—a sheriff in another Missouri county. They met for the first time at an informational meeting my local group held near his city to bring awareness to the change in Missouri’s adoption laws. She attended her grandson's wedding last month.

          I spent 20+ years helping adopted adults and birth parents find each other.

          I’ve been called “The Turtle Lady” because of my turtle collection, started almost 50 years ago. I use the analogy of a turtle going into its shell when danger approaches and staying until it’s over to demonstrate keeping my secret for 25 years. Roger and I have matching turtle wedding bands!

          The past 29 years have been amazing. Why would I want to change any of it?

          Don't hear me wrong. I am thrilled Lori had such a beautiful life: Everything I always wanted for her. I just didn't realize how difficult surrendering my baby would be.

          Still yet, sometimes, I wonder what would have happened if only I had said, "Mom, would you and Dad let me move back home with my baby until I can get a job and settled again?" We cannot go back and change anything in our past, but we can change our future.

          My favorite Bible verse is Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, plans to prosper you and not to harm you; plans to give you hope and a future.” And my favorite song is…

…Because He Lives!

Because He Lives - Grace Larson

 

Sharon’s website is https://ichoosethisday.org.

Her book, I Choose This Day: Mournings and Miracles of Adoption

by Sharon Fieker is available at Amazon & AbeBooks as a pre-owned book.

She’s also a public speaker, sharing her story.

 

#adoption #birthmother #adoptionlaw #adoptees #reunion

#Missouriadoptionlaw #birthcertificateaccess #Novemberadoptionawareness

Photo credit:

freepik.com, online book cover photo, & S. Cummins 

To Our Veteran Sons

          Today we went to the polls to vote. You were on our minds. Why? Because we’re conscious how we vote for several reasons—one of those being you volunteered years of your lives and even the outcome of your well-being by serving in our military.

          I think the way our country’s gone since the time you fought to preserve our freedom must make you sad, if not angry. Maybe you feel like we wasted your service. I think I’d feel that way if I were in your shoes. Your boots.

          No one made you go. You volunteered. In fact, you did so at a time the United States suffered the worst terrorist attack ever on our soil. You could’ve just gone on with plans for college, but you didn’t.

          You were boys turned men in an instant.

          I must say this wasn’t the coming-of-age method we’d envisioned. Ever. But here you were, dressed in camouflage.

          Oh, you’d done that in your youth. You know, those crazy paint-ball parties you had that also made me cringe, but this?

          This was different.

          Way different.

          Our hearts were in our throats all those years—intensified times three when the Military called you into active duty with overlapping deployments.

          Seven in all.

          I remember when you all went at once. I couldn’t grasp the magnitude of this ripping away. We hurt to the nth degree. Both of us.

          Your dad cried. He didn’t do that often, but he did every time you left and now let tears flow times three. And his parting words to you, our toweringly tall sons? “Don’t forget to duck.” That made us smile—blanketing our fears.

          I recall phoning a friend to tell her you’d all be in the warzone at one time. I remember my idiotic statement, which I likely screeched in a higher pitch voice than usual. “I can’t take this! I feel like opening the window and jumping!”

          “Sarah, don’t you live in a ranch-style house?”

         “Yeah,” I cried.

          “Then all you’ll likely do is sprain an ankle. And you really don’t want to hurt yourself. Right?”

          “No, but I just don’t know how to handle this!”

          When my wits were about me again, I cried hard.

          Long. Agonizing tears.

          And I prayed, asking God to protect our sons, and—if it be His Will, that we’d have no gold stars to put in our window. Ever.

          Then I prayed for the ones who did. Grieving parents who’d never welcome home their soldiers.

          I remember the times you were able to call from overseas—Afghanistan and Iraq. We’d be in the midst of a conversation when you blurted—“Gotta go!” and we heard BOOM before the connection failed.

          Please, God, protect our sons!

          The wait until the next phone call seemed endless, not knowing if you’d survived the blast we’d heard in the background. After three weeks, we half expected someone in uniform to knock on our door. We dreaded that thought.

          Then another call would come from you, and we’d heave a sigh of relief.

          Thank You, dear God!

          Although you returned with marks of war—some that will never go away, some that will—you did come home. You fought honorably. Served well.

          To you, our sons, we thank you. Honor you. Love you. What you sacrificed can never be yours. That’s gone now. In the past. But what you gave changed the times we lived in during that period of history.

          Sons, warriors, we thank you. We salute you.

God Bless the U.S.A. — Lee Greenwood

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yH61hFsma24

 

 

Dedicated to three amongst thousands who served in this century’s wars—

Michael, Nathan, & Stephen,

in honor of all who served & are still serving in the United States Military,

and in memory of our fathers—

Thomas Archer Burns & John Richard Hampshire! (World War II)

 

 

#vote #elections #Veterans #war #Military #terroristattacks #serve #volunteer #sacrifice #deployments

#tears #prayer #PTSD #disabledveteran #elections #UnitedStates #freedom #GodBlesstheUSA

Lipstick and the Economy

          Well, folks, you’ll probably think I’ve totally lost my mind when you hear what I do when a president is elected whom I believe will be destructive to our economy. I buy lipstick! Two, three, or more. I call it my “lipstick stash.”

          You see, I told my husband years ago, “If the economy crashes, I’m at least going to be able to rosy up my lips and use spots of that rubbed onto my cheeks to give me that natural look!”

          I’ve gotta tell ya, my husband just laughed, shook his head, and silently wondered (I think because I don’t read minds) if his wife was one brick short of a full load.

          This has gone on since the 1990s. Being the conservative, Bible-voting gal I am, I’ve bought more lipstick these decades than might be usual—at least for me who normally buys two basic shades.

          Low ’n’ behold, not too long ago an article by a prominent publisher appeared on-line backing my lunacy (if you think it’s that and not just careful planning).

          So, I went right away to my husband with the good news. No, not the economic. That’s not good! But I had to tell him, “Apparently, I’m not the only savvy wanna-be-beauty out there. There are others. Maybe a whole following!”

          “How did you come to that conclusion?” the skeptic asked.

          “An article popped up on my computer confirming, when there’s a recession, lipstick sales go up.” I gave myself a proverbial pat on the back. “And ya know what?”

          “Do tell,” he answered not looking overly impressed.

          “There’s even a name for this phenomenon,” I replied, feeling quite proud of myself.

          “A name?”

          I whipped my pointer finger straight in the air and announced, “The ‘lipstick index!’ See? I’m not nuts! Not about that anyway.” I thought a moment then added, “This reminds me of the sons of Issachar.”

        Now I had Brian’s full attention. You see, hubby may not be lipstick-minded, but he is sons-of-Issachar mindful. Here’s how that came about:

          While studying end times, Brian discovered a Bible verse, catching his attention. 1 Chronicles 12:32 …“the sons of Issachar, men who understood the times…” These sons of Issachar were wise men “…with a knowledge of what Israel should do…”

          They were in tune with God and prophecy. They knew what and when the Israelites needed to do because they totally “got” the times in which they were living. Precarious ones!

          So, what was happening that these men understood? That King Saul no longer sought God, led the nation away from Him, and was bringing about the end of his rule and lineage. For Jonathan (Saul’s son and heir) died in battle, and Mephibosheth (Jonathan’s son) became maimed during his escape from the opposing army under David’s command.

          From Issachar’s four sons descended (at that point) over 200 men who fought with David—the one God anointed to be the next king, the warrior victorious in battles, and the leader who’d see the Ark of the Covenant returned to Jerusalem—the Ark being God in their midst.

          These sons of Issachar, this tribe descended from Jacob, fought on the side of God.

          Now, back to our present times—also precarious for our nation and world.

          With an election imminent and two diametrically opposed candidates running for President, do we have good, wise understanding of the times we’re in? Do we comprehend what will happen if a dangerous person wins? Is it clear that evil in command could likely destroy our country for ages to come if not for all time?

          Is there enough money in the bank to buy the amount of lipstick needed to cover the years in jeopardy? I’ll wait until after the election to decide how many I’ll need on hand … if I can afford any then.

          But the whole point of my seemingly silly lipstick story is serious, and I pray we’ll be wise when going to the polls, like the sons of Issachar, because we understand the deeper calamity that could befall us, and we know what to do.

          Yet—no matter what the outcome—don’t lose Hope, all ye who love the Lord! No matter what happens in the future, as long as we trust the Savior, we’ll have all we need to face whatever comes.

In Times Like These by Ruth Caye Jones

(written to give hope and encouragement to people during World War II)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j3jK3x3iMOM&list=RDj3jK3x3iMOM&start_radio=1

 

#lipstick #economy #elections #President #sonsofIssachar #KingSaul #Jonathan #David #Mephibosheth

#endtimes #lipstickindex #recession #future #hopeintheSavior

 

Photo credit:

png.play & freeimages.com

Don't Sell the Harp!

“By the rivers of Babylon,

There we sat down, yea, we wept
When we remembered Zion.
We hung our harps
Upon the willows in the midst of it.
For there those who carried us away captive asked of us a song,
And those who plundered us requested mirth,
Saying, ‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion!’
How shall we sing the Lord’s song
In a foreign land?
If I forget you, O Jerusalem,
Let my right hand forget its skill!
If I do not remember you,
Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth—
If I do not exalt Jerusalem
Above my chief joy.”
 
Psalm 137:1-6 nkjv

   

Rivers of Babylon

Jeff & Sheri Easter - Rivers of Babylon [Live] - YouTube

 

Dear Reader,        

          The Psalm above shares the cries of the Jewish people held in captivity. Ripped from their homeland, they sorrowed to the point they couldn’t sing the songs of God that lived in their hearts, so they hung up their harps, not imagining they’d ever use them again.

          To make matters worse, their captors tormented them to sing, knowing full well how distressed they were.

          Yet, in time, the captives hearts were restored, their joy returned, and they took down their harps and lifted their voices to the Lord.

          Have you ever been so hurt you cannot fathom healing? Have you, too, “hung up your harp?”

          Although I may not have been through the same hurt as you and definitely haven’t experienced the level of the hurts our world is enduring now, all grief holds something in common.

          Decades ago, my husband and I hung up our harps. Weighed down by the circumstances of our grief and pain, we literally could not sing. Not a note. I wouldn’t’ve dreamt then that we’d ever sing again when we could barely face the next day.

          But eventually we did. It didn’t happen overnight. In fact, the healing took decades as the Holy Spirit ministered to us in our brokenness and eventually led us to the willow tree where we’d hung our harps.

          There they were. Waiting.

          Reader, your weeping may endure for a night—or countless nights. But Joy does come in the morning! Psalm 30:5 That’s promised!

          So, dear one, please consider these words:

1)     Don’t sell the harp! It’s okay for it to hang in the willow tree for all the time you need to move forward in your healing journey.

2)     When you’re ready, take down that harp. Dust it. Tune it. Run your fingers across the strings. Pluck a few. You may try playing a simple song, most likely hesitate, then try again.

3)     Now add your voice. That takes great courage, but you can do it! Tears will fall, but you also might find you get through a stanza.

4)     The next time, you may yearn to sing more than one verse. Try looking to Heaven as you lift your voice. Tears may still well in your eyes, but you’ll notice you feel some better. Good job!

5)     It might very well catch you unaware when one day you realize mid-song that Joy harmonizes with you, lightening your heart—something you never expected when you hung up that harp so very long ago; something you would’ve never realized if you’d sold it.

          There’s a great secret—maybe not so secret—that some don’t know, but you will learn now. Here it is:

          When a song’s been restored after brokenness—after the incident that made you hang up your harp—it possesses a richness, a depth of purpose it didn’t have before you were hurt. Before you grieved.

          The song lives, and so now will you. Your song will never be the same. It’ll be better.

          And you just may find yourself saying, “I’m so glad I didn’t sell my harp!”

Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus

Cynthia Clawson - Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus [Live] (youtube.com)

 

 

#captivejews #hangingupharps #lostsong #grief #pain #sadness #music #Godrestores #Joy #sing

 

(Disclaimer: I’m not a professional counselor. My advice simply comes from

what I’ve gleaned during my own grief journey & walk with God.)

 

Photo Credit: creazilla.com