Are You the One?

Are You the One?

"And said to him, ‘Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?’ And Jesus answered them, ‘Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them. And blessed is the one who is not offended by me’” (Matthew 10:3-6, ESV).

Dear One,

Occasionally in our walk with The Lord, we ask the question that John posed, "Are you the One?" Our faith sometimes falters especially when feeling attacked on all fronts. My sweet husband once told me that asking God this type of question was not a denial of faith but showed a hope for a response from Christ.

Mark elaborated that if my faith were totally depleted, I would not be begging for God to respond to me. Being hurt, ill, feeling alone, empty and betrayed does not mean that Christ is not the Savior. It simply means that we are living in a fallen world where His salvation is desperately needed.

Mark suggested for me to remember the times when Jesus showed up in my life.  I needed to recall His responses when I felt that He was not hearing, seeing, or caring about whatever was going on at the moment causing me to suffer and to wonder, "Where are you, Jesus? Are you the One?"

These principles still work for me today. When I am hurting and my faith feels weakened, I remember. I stop and remember when Jesus responded to my prayers. I remember the work of Christ in the lives of loved ones and friends. I remember what I have seen Jesus do.

Asking God questions is not a sign of lost faith. It is a sign of conversation and expectation.

Be Blessed,

Debbie

Judgment Seat of Christ

"For we must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each one may be recompensed for his deeds in the body, according to what he has done, whether good or bad" (2 Cor. 5:10, NASB).

I have heard people use this verse to suggest this scenario. All of us (Christians and non-Christians) will stand before the judgement seat of God and all of their sins will be displayed on a large screen for all to see.

This is a wrong interpretation of this verse. Saying that Christians will be judged for their sins, is nullifying the atoning work of Christ. The judgment seat in Corinth was called the bema seat. This was the place where athletes were rewarded. Christians will not be judged for their sins. Those sins have been forgiven.

In fact, Psalm 103:12 stated, "As far as the east is from the west, so far has He removed our transgressions from us) (NASB). Christians pass from the Great White Throne of Judgment. The judgment seat (bema seat) of Christ in Corinthians is referring to our work for the kingdom. These will be acknowledged and rewarded.

We are called to share the gospel and to complete the race. Sharing the gospel takes on many forms. However, we are not called to judge each other as to whether their way of sharing satisfies us. God equips each man or woman to share His Son according to their bent and making. Don't be concerned whether your neighbor is sharing Christ that way you are called to share Him. Be conscience, instead, of your own actions and motivations.

Share Christ as you are led and use the gifts He has given you to encourage those around you.

Be Blessed,
Debbie

Thoughts on Chambers Devotion of March 2

"Rarely, but probably once, He will get us into a corner where He will hurt us with His undeviating questions, and we will realize that we do love Him far more deeply than any profession can ever show" (Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest).

I had to read Chambers devotion for today a couple of times to get the clear meaning of what he was saying. Memories of the time in my life, my Peter moment, came upon me like a flood. I remember when I had to face the reality of my affection for Christ. It was about a year and a half after the kidnapping. Those days still seem a blur but one thing that I remember clearly was the pain. The wretched rawness of it much like an open wound that burns and throbs was still fresh and it could come upon me at the most inopportune junctures.

During that period, I did question the reality of my love and faith in Christ. Also, I questioned His love for my children, my husband, and me. I remember feeling isolated in those emotions and doubts. So, I tried to stay busy - busy raising my son, Michael. I tried to stay busy in ministry at church both in leading a children's choir and serving in the adult choir. I stayed busy at Michael's school helping a little girl who had reading difficulties. Being busy was my friend.

I had discovered that when I occupied much of my time, I did not have as much time to ponder my attitude toward Jesus or His attitude toward me. Denial of my emotional state was my attempt at keeping whatever sanity I had left protected. Of course, burying one's heart is never a healthy path.

Unexpectedly, a mothers of one my son's friends posed a question to me. She asked if Mark and I would still have chosen to serve Christ and attend seminary if we had known the future meant losing two of our children. To this day, I am surprised by the forceful assurance of my answer. Also, there was no hesitation in my answer. I replied that we had no choice and that loving and serving Jesus was not an option in our lives. I remember telling her that God called us not the other way around.

Later that evening as I related the conversation to Mark, I knew. I knew that despite my doubts and sometimes pitiful faith that Christ was the center of my soul. I knew that regardless the sorrows and my misunderstandings of His care and provision that I was called to trust Him, love Him, and serve Him until my last breath on this earth was completed. I have found that I am occasionally left standing and praying, "Lord, I believe. Help me in my unbelief."

Why I hide my Pain

Do you remember the story of Christ in the garden praying before He was crucified? He asked his disciples to stay awake with Him, but they could not. Do you remember how many of those closest to Him were at the cross when they crucified Him? All had vanished except for John. Eleven of His closest friends abandoned Him. One sold Him for 30 pieces of silver and Peter denied even knowing Him.

Now, let me tell you how I relate the sorrow of Christ with my sorrow and why I feel that I must wear my facade and allow no one save Christ to see the depth of my pain.

I did not just lose a son. I did not just lose a daughter. I lost all my blood relations except for my son, Michael. My mother was diabolical in what she did.

My sisters abandoned me. I loved my sisters - both of them very much. Patti and mother did not always get along. There were many nights when Patti would be knocking on my bedroom window and crying over a fight she and mother had. I would go unlock the door, and she would pile into my arms and tell me her troubles. I never said,"Go away." or "Why are you waking me up in the middle of the night (or wee hours of the morning)?" Instead, I was there for her - loving her.

After my sister, Sherry, had her first born, mother started making claims that Sherry was a bad mother and that she suspected that Rusty was doing inappropriate things to Sandy. I told my mother that she was way out of line and that she was wrong. I told her that Rusty was a good father and that Sherry loved her daughter. I defended them both adamantly and told her that if she continued with her lies that I would tell Sherry and Rusty what she was saying. Later, mother told me that she did not mean those things and that she was having a hard time emotionally and shouldn't have said them.

I loved my parents and my grandparents. We lived between Murfreesboro and LaVergne, TN. My grandmother stopped by my house one day and started complaining about my parents. My dad's business had gone bankrupt and my parents were experiencing financial difficulties. My parents also did not attend church, which was very important to my grandmother. Grandmother said several things very hateful about my parents - while I tried to defend them. Finally, grandmother told me that if Sandra wasn't her daughter that she would not have anything to do with my parents.

I was stunned. At that point I calmly replied, "Grandma, you need to leave now. I love you and Papa but I also love my parents and I will not allow you to come into my home and say such horrible things." At that point, I walked to the front door and opened it and told her good-bye.

About fifteen minutes later my phone was ringing. (This was before the days of cell phones or caller ID.) My mother was on the phone asking me to tell her about my visit with my grandmother. She informed me that grandmother had stopped at a pay phone and called her and told her that I had told her to leave my house. Grandmother told mother that she might have said some negative things about her and daddy and that when she told me, I made her leave my house. I told my mother it was true and I had asked grandmother to leave if she was going to say unkind things about the people that I loved. My mother told me that grandmother had said she would never do that again.

I am writing these stories to emphasize the fact that I loved my crazy family. I defended them from each other. I stood by them. Yet, NONE of them defended Mark and me when mother started saying horrible lies about us. Sherry who had run away from home twice as an older teen and again in her twenties without telling anyone where she was because (as Sherry told me) our parents were nuts, abandoned me. Patti who used to come to me crying about mother and my grandmother who told me that she did not want to have anything to do with her own daughter.... ALL of these people climbed on board the crazy ship with my mother and did nothing to help me when my mother brainwashed and stole my children.

When mother started making the accusations, I tried talking to my father and his response to me was, "Debbie, I have gone too far and there is no turning back for me now." I had NO idea that his going to far was accusing nearly every official in Murfreesboro as being in the satanic cult or that he had made plans to kidnap my children.

Instead of my sisters, my grandparents and my father telling mother to close her mouth and tell me what she was saying.... they abandoned me. Patti even lied in court for my mother and then confessed to the lie and the judge told her to get out of his courtroom. These people who I loved and still love did nothing except abandon me and probably helped my parents.

But, these people were my family and they were loved by me. And, I lost ALL of them. I did not just lose two of my children, I lost everyone that I loved because none of them defended me. None of them told me what mother and daddy were doing.

Can you imagine my pain? Can you even begin to think that you could endure me if I walked around and let friends or church members or neighbors really see the depth of sorrow that is in my heart? I think not. I believe like the disciples, they would abandon me and leave me hanging alone on my cross.

What does my sorrow look like? My sorrow is darker than the darkest black of the deepest cave. My sorrow has evil, hideous yet familiar faces waiting to tear into my flesh and rip out my heart. My sorrow contains more pain than the burning of flesh that I experienced when I was 8 years old. My sorrow cannot be endured by anyone save Christ.

So, I go to Him. I cry out to Him and He provides me with enough strength to face one more day. He provides me with enough sanity to live and believe that His return will rescue me from this tortured life I live. He gives me enough strength to try to walk among the breathing and pretend that goodness dwells in the land of the living. Yet, I am truly a shell and only exist because of His strength. Jesus daily picks up my sorrow and carries it. And, I know without any doubt that if I ever tried to let another living mortal carry that pain instead of allowing Christ to bear it, I would stop breathing.

No, I will continue to wear my facade and try to live in this world with the knowledge that He will not abandon me and that His love is the only strength on which I can truly count.  

God has provided me with friends but they only know me through the strength that Christ has provided. The few times I have tried to allow Mark to see this pain, he turns me off. He cannot bear it and he lost his children along with me. But, he didn't lose everyone.

Most of us only have one Jonathan (as to David) or John (as to Jesus) in our lives. If you have that one than count yourself blessed. I have one friend who comes close to truly seeing and knowing the agony of soul. And, she has never judged me or left me or pushed me away. But, even with her, I do not allow her to truly know all.

God has given me others who reach out in comfort, prayers, and support but I know that they would not  be capable of handling the totality of my agony. I am not ignorant to the fact the God does have His church here for a purpose but the church is not Christ. So, I will trust that the amount of pain that Christ lets others see, it is the amount they might can comprehend.

I hesitate to say that I will not hide my pain because those who have seen a portion of my pain usually do not begin to understand it. Often, they try to minimize it and this sorrow cannot nor should it be marginalized. My children are worth all this sorrow. The lost of all those that I loved is worth all the agony. After 25 years of allowing Jesus to keep a record of my tears, I will not give this task to another.

Memories and Poems

On occasion folks have inquired how I am able to continue and to live a relatively normal life. Of course, I am not sure exactly what normal is and I don't think that Mark and I have lived a normal life; however, we have prevailed with the help of the Father.

Today, I am sick most likely with the flu. I am sure that most Christians have experienced severe attacks from Satan when your body and health are compromised. Unfortunately, I am not immune from this type of spiritual warfare. So, this morning I continued  reading in Ezekiel (11 - 13). Such a lovely place to read when feeling ill and  melancholy. Not. I read today's devotion from "My Utmost for His Highest" and heard myself murmur, "I don't know what I just read."

My day continued and I decided that a shower was the thing that would invigorate me. Wrong. The shower nearly did me in. That's when my mind began to think on my sisters. Sisters that I loved and thought loved me. That's when my thoughts went to my oldest son, Bobby. I nearly gave in to my feelings of remorse but instead I heard myself say, "No, God. I am done. I can't deal with the sadness today. Take this away from me because I have no prayers left to cry."

I continued trying to half dry my hair when God spoke through another memory. - a better memory. As a little girl I got sick often. During some of those times, my mother would come into my room and put a cool cloth on my forehead. She also read me this poem.

Land of Counterpane
by Robert Louis Stevenson

When I was sick and lay a-bed,
I had two pillows at my head,
And all my toys beside me lay,
To keep me happy all the day.

And sometimes for an hour or so
I watched my leaden soldiers go,
With different uniforms and drills,
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills;

And sometimes sent my ships in fleets
All up and down among the sheets;
Or brought my trees and houses out,
And planted cities all about.

I was the giant great and still
That sits upon the pillow-hill,
And sees before him, dale and plain,
The pleasant land of counterpane.

Let's face it, I would rather one of my sisters or Christi and Bobby call me but for now I'll take a memory that isn't dealing with my mother's destructive plans. The fact is this, I have never stopped loving my family. While they continue to spurn me, I continue to pray for them. And, today.... I'll remember poems.

Be Blessed,
Debbie

A few thoughts on the Teachings of Marcus Borg

A friend posted on the death of Marcus Borg yesterday. She called him an inspirational and thinking theologian. Here are some of my thoughts regarding the theological thoughts of Marcus Borg.

I really have issues with his take on the events surrounding the birth of Christ. When speaking of the miracles concerning the birth of Christ Borg wrote:

"To be candid, I do not think that any of this happened. Of course, there is some historical memory in the stories. Jesus was born. He really lived. He was Jewish. His parents’ names were Mary and Joseph. They lived in Nazareth, a very small peasant village, perhaps as small as a few hundred. But I do not think that there was an annunciation by an angel to Mary, or a virginal conception, or a special star, or wisemen from the East visiting the infant Jesus, or angels filling the night with glory as they sang to shepherds.

Yet I am not a “debunker” of these stories. I do not dismiss them as “fables” or “fabrications” or “falsehoods.” Many in the modern world do see the two options as “it happened this way” or “it didn’t” – and if it didn’t, then we are dealing with delusions and deceptions. A few years ago, a television special on these stories posed the question that way: are they “fact or fable”?

There is a third option. Namely, the Christmas stories with their miraculous elements were not intended to be “factual” in the sense of reporting what actually happened. Rather, they are early Christian testimony, written roughly a hundred years after Jesus’s birth. They testify to the significance that Jesus had come to have in their lives and experience and thought. The stories are parabolic, metaphorical narratives that can be true without being factual" (From Dr. Borg’s blog on Patheos:http://www.patheos.com/blogs/marcusborg/).

Seems like many brilliant people cannot believe in the miraculous. They want to explain it away but still call themselves Christian theologians. Yet, the very creation of the earth was a miracle. Scientist cannot explain it. They try and they fail. A finite being cannot create something out of nothing. If you prefer to think it all began with a Big Bang, a lingering and sobering question still remains. Where did the elements come from that produced the bang? The cosmos had to have a beginning and the beginner of it (the creator), had to be one of superior intellect and with the ability to create out of nothing, which seems to suggest that the miraculous was involved.

Borg and others in his camp want to take this amazing fact away from God - God can do anything He desires to do. Man cannot begin to understand the mind or the workings of the Father. Yes, I have many questions. I want to know how God operates in the miraculous. But, for now I have to trust and wait.

1 Corinthians 13:12 sums up my attitude on many issues.

"For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known" (NASB).

The Look of Success

When the men came to Him (Jesus), they said, “John the Baptist has sent us to You, to ask, ‘Are You the Expected One, or do we look for someone else?’ ” (Luke 7: 20, NASB).

The Look of Success

Success when doing the kingdom's work does not always appear as success with mortal finite eyes. A popular false doctrine proclaims that when we are following God's direction, His blessings will be evident. However, that is not often the case with the one who has sacrificed his or her life to seeking and doing the will of the Father.

John the Baptist proclaimed the coming of Christ and yet, his earthly reward was prison and beheading. The world would not proclaim execution as success. In fact, many of our current popular Bible teachers and pastors would probably be telling John that he missed the mark. "John, if you were following God's direction and listening to His spirit, you would not find yourself in such a mess. Obviously, you went off on your own because God would have blessed you and your efforts."

However, the purpose of John's life was not to promote himself to a larger ministry, a bigger house and a newer car. His purpose was to point folks to Jesus. His question was not based on John's believing that he had missed the mark, but was an inquiry, "Are you Jesus, my cousin, the one?"

This question was not for John's ease of mind. John wanted to tell his followers either, "Yes, Jesus is the one." Or, "No, look for another." His concern was for his followers.

What great joy must have enveloped his heart and soul when the response from Christ  was, "Go and report to John what you have seen and heard: the blind receive sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, and the deaf hear, the dead are raised up, the poor have the gospel preached to them" (Luke 7: 22, NASB).

John died knowing that the Messiah, of whom He taught, had arrived in the flesh. John never assumed that he was commissioned to elevate himself. His life was to help prepare hearts to receive Christ as Lord and Savior.

Dear servants of God, your success is not based on worldly wealth or fame. It is based on one simple truth. Have you fulfilled the mission of pointing others to the saving knowledge of Christ Jesus? Sometimes, there will be material success involved but other times success is not evident in that way. Your purpose is to promote Jesus not self. Occasionally, success in the kingdom will cost you all you hold dear even to the point of your life.

Be Blessed,
Debbie

Today's thoughts...

Jeremiah 39:18 (ESV):

"For I will surely save you, and you shall not fall by the sword, but you shall have your life as a prize of war, because you have put your trust in me, declares the Lord.”

Despite the brevity of this verse,  it holds some significant meaning for us. First, Jeremiah said these words to  Ebed-melech the Ethiopian because this man trusted in the words of the prophet. God's chosen people and their kings had rejected the message. Unfortunately for them, they would surely suffer the consequence of abandoning God and his instructions. Yet, an Ethiopian's faith and trust in the man sent from God would save him. Most of us, like the Ethiopian are adopted into the family of God.

Secondly, this message should help define our behavior today. We are in the midst of a spiritual battle. Despite the injustice and the immoral behavior that is rampant in our nation, we are called to speak the truth of the scripture and to trust Christ. A watered down message has no power to overcome sin.

This may mean that we get dropped into a cistern and sink deep into the mud. But, we are called to passionately maintain and keep our faith. We are still called to speak the truth of God's words.

Remember, the truth is not only for you but for those who hear and heed it. An important point to notice here, Jeremiah, who was imprisoned and punished, kept saying the truth of the message. We want this short verse to be his reward; yet, this word was for an Ethiopian who had heard the message and trusted God.

Be of good cheer, you may be ridiculed and feel stuck in deep mud, but you are called to speak the truth of scripture. The calling to do this task not to simply save and bless yourself but to bless the listeners. Be resolved today to continue to preach the truth with your words and actions. Remember, your faith and trust in God has already saved you. You no longer face eternal damnation. Now, it is time to put on your spiritual armor and march into battle and bravely defend and live the gospel of Christ. Our task is not to kill the unbeliever but to point him to Christ so that he may be saved.

Surrender of the Will

"'My determination is to be my utmost for His Highest.' To get there is a question of will, not of debate nor of reasoning, but a surrender of will, an absolute and irrevocable surrender on that point" (January 1, Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest).

Yesterday's reading set the tone of this lovely daily devotion book. It also spoke to this rather broken heart of mine. The "surrender of will" is such a difficult thing to do. We are taught from earliest education to strive, to succeed, to think on our own. Then we come to the teaching of scripture and the apostle Paul tells us to surrender with complete abandonment to God. Surrendering to God can become an insurmountable task for those of us who have struggled. Trusting God is a difficult occupation when parents, family and people claiming to know Christ have wounded one deeply.

Much of our understanding for God develops from the people we come in contact with that claim to know Him. When these people prove to be impostors, those blasted wolves in sheep's clothing, they damage the entire body of Christ. In order for us to understand the intended relationship with God, He is often portrayed as Father. Yet, when one's earthly father has failed miserably in his duty and love as a father, this analogy is hard to understand, let alone accept.

This is the situation with which I battle. I have often felt like I was peering into the window of a neighbor's home where the father and mother truly love their children. Therefore, I have often described my relationship with God as His forgotten stepchild. Not as one who is truly His daughter or the recipient of His selfless love, but close enough to see a father's love poured out on His true children. Trusting God with my will is a challenge for me on occasions since I have rarely felt invited to the inner circle of His home and hearth.  When those who should have cherished you such as one’s parents, grandparents and sisters, have damaged your heart the picture of God as Father and Christ as Brother can be rather offensive and hurtful.

Yet, I long to have a Father who loves me and embraces me with the gentleness of a sweet summer's eve. I desire to lazily sit on the porch swing with Him and hear His direction and know that His advice comes to me because I am His beloved daughter and not an unwanted stepchild.

My heart's cry this year is to keep myself above the trappings and the pain of this world. I intend to trust God as Holy and Loving. To be an ambassador for Christ that draws people to Him and to not act as a repellant is my deep desire. Like Paul, I do not want to ever be ashamed but to continue to submit my stubborn will to Christ's will. True examples of this totality of God-living are hard to find in this world. My prayer is that I can be one of His children choosing to live my life with no thought of my will but only of His with a compete trust in Him.

I want to end my ramblings with a quote from Saint Francis de Sales (1567-1622) who explained complete trust with the following statement:

"Do not look forward to the changes and chances of this life with fear. Rather, look to them with full confidence that, as they arise, God to whom you belong will in his love enable you to profit by them... Be at peace then, and put aside all useless thoughts, all vain dreads and all anxious imaginations."

Be Blessed,
Debbie

A Time to Grieve

By Debbie Baskin

August 7, 2014

            Tragedy can enter into one's life in various ways. The most insidious involves the loss of one's child whether through death or kidnapping there can be no greater agony.

            Recently, two couples we know have lost a young son - one through an auto accident and another through suicide. I wish with all my heart that I could ease the horrible nightmare that these families are going through. But, there is one humble truth - I cannot. I can pray. I can send expressions of love but I cannot rip that pain from their hearts. This new pain will forever be part of the fabric of their lives.

            I remember over twenty-five years ago receiving the phone call that would forever change my life, challenge my faith, cause me to question truth, and bring an anguish so intense to my soul that breathing was a excruciating experience. Our phone call was from our attorney who coldly stated to my husband, "Mark, that thing you said could happen, has happened. Marvin and Sandra have kidnapped your children."

            Disbelief. After battling my parents for a year on horrible allegations of abuse and neglect, with all being disproved in court, we had been told that the following Friday our children would come home. Unknown to us or the court, the guardian ad litem had given my parents permission to take our beloved children out of school for a week for a vacation from which they never returned. We were already beaten up by the slander and thought that at last this horrible period was coming to an end. Instead, we were informed, "They have been stolen."

            When Mark hung up the phone and told me, I fell to the floor and became violently ill. Mark was able to get me up and we stood clinging to each other. No language has words to describe the unfathomable emotion we were feeling. Yet, we had to continue. We had to pack a suitcase, find a seminary friend to keep Michael, and drive to Tennessee so we could press charges and appear in court to be told that we were wonderful, self-sacrificing parents. I remember little of those days except the pain. I prayed to wake up from what had been the hell on earth we had lived through for the past year. I prayed to wake up to hear the sound of my three children's voices talking or singing. But, I never woke up from the nightmare because the nightmare had become our lives.

            At first I thought that surely the FBI or the TBI would find them any day. I believed that God would restore what the enemy had stolen but as the hours turned to days, the days to weeks, the weeks to months, and the months of years my faith faltered and grief, mourning, pain, anger, and hatred began to grow in my heart.

            People had no clue as to what to say. Most folks (even to this day) want to minimize the pain. Folks said things to us like, "Well, at least it was your parents who did this. You know that they love your children." Really, that was supposed to give me comfort? I thought that my parents loved me and yet they slandered me and stole my children. We had those who wanted to spiritualize everything and advised me to thank God for allowing me the opportunity to walk through this tragedy. And, of course there were questions. Questions that could not be answered: "So, why did they do this?" "How are you doing?"  And my all time favorite, "So, where are they?"

            A friend once told me that I did not act like someone with kidnapped children. I remember wondering where the rulebook was on how to act when one loses the loves of her life. I had no idea that I was supposed to act in a certain way. There was no script to follow. My response as best I can recall was, "If I acted how I felt, I would never stop screaming. No one would be able to stand to be in the same room with me. My thoughts, my sorrow, my pain is only between my God and me. I can only go to Him with these feelings because only He already knows."

            Only God was able to comfort me during those early days and years. Yet, most of the time I did not recognize that it was His strength and love that was carrying me. While I instinctively knew that only God could understand, I was also very upset with Him. I wrote a song that I defiantly sang throughout our seminary apartment about I how I was no longer going to praise an invisible God who had abandoned my children and me. Finally, after weeks or months (I do not remember the time frame), Mark asked me why I was singing this song to God if He did not exist. Without pausing to think about my answer I responded, "I am singing it loudly to make sure He hears me." Mark remained silent for a moment, looking at his aching wife for which he had no comfort. Finally he quietly stated, "So, you really just want God to know you are hurting." I never sang that song again. Even at my blackest moment, I knew that God was real. However, I felt like his forgotten stepchild.

            Most people, even well intentioned folks, attempts at comfort only brought more pain. Blessedly, I can recall a few souls that God put in my path that seemed to have an understanding that I needed time to grieve. They were the ones that gently embraced me and cried with me. I remember Jack and Carol Davis. They were fellow seminarians and the first people I told. Jack was getting his PhD in counseling. As I stood wailing in their living room, Jack made this statement, "I am so angry." He did not try to counsel me. He voiced an emotion that was real. I could recognize that I too was angry. Carol grabbed me and we stood crying. I know God led me to them because nothing reckless or insensitive came out of their mouths. They let me cry, grieve, and scream. They did not quote Bible verses; instead they stood as the reflection of Christ and wept with my husband and me.

            While at a meeting at church, Debbie Thomas came up to me and said, "I wish I could bear your pain one day for you." Later, I found out from another friend that she thought that was a thoughtless thing to say. It was not. I knew she meant it. If there had been anyway for her to carry my pain for that day, she would have gladly endured it. Knowing that she was willing to do this actually relieved some of my sorrow that day. Without realizing it, she was reminding me that Christ was carrying my sorrow.

            On another occasion, Denise Tillman showed up at our house one day with bags of groceries. She stood in my kitchen with red-rimmed eyes appearing very unsure of her actions. "I wanted to do something for you. But, there is nothing that I do about this situation. So, I bought you groceries. I hope this doesn't offend you." She recognized my pain and gave me groceries. I do not remember one thing in those many bags, but I remember her act of kindness. Groceries have nothing in common with the loss of a child; but she gave of herself and her time. She did not offend me; she loved me by helping to care for my family’s needs.

            God revealed a truth to me in the people who came to us as consolers over the years. There are two kinds of people - those who literally ache with you and those who try to sympathize but are really there hoping for information.

            The only questions that should be asked of grieving parents are, "What can I do?" "How can I assist you?" Never ask them how they are feeling. Never ask them how they are doing.

            Let me tell you, they are hurting beyond human expression. They are trying to function when in reality they want to sleep and never wake up until that child is back in their arms. That's how they are doing.

            Do not tell them that God is in control. Because honestly, when you lose a child it does not "feel" like He is even in the room let alone in control. Later, I realized the God was not only in the room but it was He holding me up from the inside. I could not see Him in the room because He had planted himself in the deepest places of my soul. It was He who was giving me the courage to face each day. But, at the beginning of the sorrow I was unaware of His presence.

            Also, do not tell them to thank God for viewing them worthy to walk through this fire!  People said, “God choose you and Mark to walk through this because He knew your faith was strong.” My faith may have appeared strong but it was only hanging on by a thread. I assure you as a person who has physically been on fire and also stumbled through the emotional fire of losing two of her children, no one thanks God for the fire when they are still burning and the flesh is falling off their body. That is an insensitive thing to say. I did not want to be His chosen vessel if losing my children was the cost.
            
            Often, the best expression of empathy is a hug. Hold them. Listen to them. Do not correct their feelings. Do not minimize their pain. Clean their house. Wash their clothing. Cut their yard. And, keep your mouth closed. I found those were the people that I poured my heart out to when I was ready.

            Most importantly, let them grieve. Accept their grief. Grieve with them.

            Later, much later, God may give you words of comfort for them. But at this moment, there are no words.