A FIVE Word Question With a Line Into Hope

Therefore.

Years ago a pastor in St. Louis, during a Bible study, one hand raised in the middle of a Scripture reading by an overly articulate study participant, said, “WAIT! Stop.”

Hm? Now why would you interrupt such a beautiful reading?

The word, “therefore,” should always make you pause, he explained. And when you pause, ask yourself, “What is it there for?”

The verses preceding it were pivotal to…something.

Everything…is pivotal to something. Nothing is wasted.

What. Is. It. There. For?

Maybe out of desperation to maintain some sense of positivity, maybe out of the fact that I can be a little *off* at times, maybe out of experiencing some years that I can say were much worse than 2020, those five words are life changing, life saving.

On Christmas Eve, my friend Erin woke me with an article by text about a hymn derived from a poem Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote during the Civil War.

We sing it at Christmastime. Casting Crowns made a contemporary Christian Christmas song out of it. Yet I’d never pondered its origin.

“And in despair I bowed my head…
‘There is no peace on earth,’ I said.
‘For hate is strong and mocks the song…
Of peace on earth, good will to men…’”

(“Christmas Bells” Longfellow)

See, Longfellow had lived some tragedy. His lens into a holly jolly Christmas clouded by the tragic loss of his wife two years earlier.

She was sending some mail, using candle wax to seal envelopes, when her dress caught fire. Engulfed in flames, she ran into his study for help, where he was badly burned by the flames that would in coming days prove to take her life. Random, huh? Life can feel that way. Death, too.

Fast forward two years, called to the side of his war-injured son as December was just beginning to paint frost on the ground, and Longfellow penned that most brutally honest Christmas-poem-turned-hymn.

I wasn’t there with him when he did it. Because I’m not that old. But I would venture to say he was hanging on because of those five words: What is it there for?

I wonder if under some candlelight, one hand holding his son’s, tears streaming through a scraggly beard, he begged God to show him what it’s all there for.

I’m not sure. But it seems as though, in contemplating the birth of Christ, he quickly turned the corner to contemplate the death of Christ. 

What is this beautiful thing there for? What is this tragic thing there for?

“Then pealed the bells more loud and deep…
‘God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men.’"

Peace on earth. Good will to men. Because God is not dead, He doesn’t sleep.

So we had a hard year. Many say it was the worst they'd experienced. But for every little distracting or disastrous…or beautiful…or frustrating or devastating impact this year has brought, the question offers a line to hope.

What...Is...It...There...For?

For you to be closer to God? For us to be brought to our knees, asking Him to show us what it’s there for, while knowing we may not quite understand this side of heaven, but that none of it is wasted? For YOU. It’s there for you. For us. 

We "want the dets," as the kids say. But...God has the details worked out for you. Look at the story of a Savior born in a manger because his parents were told there was no room for them to stay. 

1 Corinthians 13, 12-13…These are our family verses. You can have them as your family verses, too. Or just cling to them during the times you wish you had the answer to that question.

“For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”

RAWR: A Note to Moms of Sons

 "Few mothers do it willingly; very few do it well. But the boy has a question that needs an answer, and he cannot get the answer from his mother. Femininity can never bestow masculinity.” – John Eldredge

Ouch. That hurts. But it’s true. For most boys it happens in their teenage years, Eldredge explains in “Wild at Heart.”

Sometimes it gets ugly. A teenage boy pushing away from the comfort of mom will often get pretty stinkin’ rude. It’s hurtful to mom, boy feels guilty, but it’s a necessary thing.

I remember this clearly with my oldest, Daniel. The whole family around the table for dinner on a calm, Tuesday evening, and his testing of some choice words.

Shocked, I dared him to use those words again. And he did. Standing to his feet, towering over me at 15, tall and lanky, fiery green eyes meeting mine, the rest of the family mortified.

And so it began. A painful, teary separation for a mom, a bold declaration from a son: I’m a man. Move outta the way.

Now, the words weren’t acceptable, and he knew it, but lashing out was his way of saying it. I might not have heard it otherwise maybe.

In one look toward his Dad that said, “He’s all yours,” I stepped aside.

Fast forward, and my youngest is in that bold place now, at 22. My husband, his Dad, passed away when he was in high school, so we remained close. Sure, he had his moments, but the loss tamed them, and we were a family that needed each other closer for a little while longer.

Now, he's engaged to be married, the joy of the season also marked by a quick transition that says, "move outta the way." My role? Step aside.

Femininity cannot bestow masculinity.

You might be thinking, “Uh-oh. She’s got a situation. Who do you turn to with the, 'He’s all yours now,' look? You’re all alone, girlfriend."

I can answer that for you.

I have prayed good men into his life since even before Dan, his Dad, passed away five years ago. When Dan was diagnosed with cancer, that became a passionate prayer.

After the loss, our worship leader took him under his wing, and to this day, even though we are halfway across the country, he still plays a critical role in my son’s life.

With the engagement, I dropped to my knees even harder. I’m just a girl, I don’t have the “rawr!” for this. Back up, please, God! I can’t do this, but I know YOU can.

Enter…a good friend who, like my son, likes to shoot guns. (rawr!)

Enter…a connection through a WayFM coworker who began a small group for young men. A good group of young guys who are also either engaged or newly married? Rawrrrrrrrrrr!

Moms, God loves our boys even more than we do. Crazy to even try to wrap our momma minds around that one. But, it’s true. And, He knows just what they need. God can interpret our moans apparently, so I am sure He will understand you when you pray for, "Rawr."

And, move outta the way. That’s the hard part.

WORDS

Social media has become a hateful place lately. People are divided, pride is strong, and the façade of hiding behind a screen, convincing.

But words…they yield power. They can heal. Or, they can destroy. 

When my late husband Dan was battling lung cancer, he’d just begun a new chemotherapy when his voice began to quickly fade. 

At first, he sounded like he was developing laryngitis. Hoarse…to raspy. Then he sounded whispery. Then…nothing. 

Baffled, we called his cancer doctor, who referred him to a throat specialist. 

On a looming monitor above a procedure chair, the specialist took us on a tour of Dan’s vocal cords.

He pointed that one looked like it was ready to form a word, bowed out. As Dan attempted to speak, it would move. The other though, was like a teenager being told to take out the trash. It just sat there, refusing to do its job. 

To form a word, both of your vocal cords need to cooperate, the doctor explained. But one wasn’t meeting the other; it was paralyzed. 

The solution? To inject the cord with silicone. Yes. They were going to put plastic in his throat to help him speak again.

I was asked if I’d like to stay in the room to watch the procedure. My nerdiness about all things medical, which Dan and I shared, was competing with my passy outty-ness.

I had been in nursing school out of high school, only to realize I pass out easily at the sight of blood. I spent a lot of time talking to patients, and realized I was more useful as a talker than as nurse who might be passed out cold on the floor.

I stayed for the procedure though. The doctor lifted the hugest needle I’ve ever seen from a tray off to his side. 

As he prepared Dan, and the solution he needed to fill the failing cord, I began to ponder this question: WHY…why…would a vocal cord be affected by treatment for cancer in the lungs? It just didn’t make sense.

Dan had stage four lung cancer, terminal, at diagnosis. He was 42. It was a very specific mutation that often affected non-smokers like Dan. The new chemotherapy had caused tumors within and surrounding the lungs to get very angry as they realized they were being challenged, and they were inflamed. This was good news. It meant it was likely going to help shrink them.

But I was baffled that his voice would somehow be affected. 

So, as the doctor began to pierce the skin on Dan’s neck with that gigantic needle – yes, that’s how they went in – I asked the question. Why?

The doctor said, “Oh I know. Isn’t it crazy? It’s a mystery why our nerves are arranged this way.” He explained that the nerve that supplies our vocal cords could have taken the easy road, and simply began in the brain, and made their way to the cords, and boom, you got words!

But, no. The nerve leaves the brain and takes a deep dive around your aorta, near your HEART, before it ventures back up to supply your voice. That’s why inflammation in Dan’s chest caused him to lose his voice.

So, let me get this straight…our words are run past our hearts, literally?

I don’t see that as a quirk.  I see a clever God.

“For the mouth speaks what the heart is full of.” (Matthew 12)

5 Things to Do Instead of Freaking Out...

Control Freaks, unite. 

FIVE THINGS TO DO instead of buying more groceries. 

1. Have a dance party. Do you still know the lyrics? 

2. Open your windows. (My neighbors know I still know the lyrics!)  

In nursing school, which I was in until I realized I’m very passy outy, I learned that WWII nurses would sing, “fling high the windows!” as they worked with a lot of sick and injured people under their care in tight places. 

Light and air will reduce germs and your stress level. I still sing this in my head as I open windows. 

3. Do squats. You’ll come out of this with a great butt. 

4. Send a silly video to your friends. They’ll laugh a little, and you’ll have a little piece of history to refer to, which will offer perspective when this passes.  

5. Write. A poem, a song, your thoughts, a blog, a book.

6. Clean, rearrange your furniture, put together some things to donate. I know this is six, but in the long history of Five Things, there’s always at least six, always more. We’ll get through this. There’s more.

The Ripple Effects of Grace

“I don’t wanna abuse Your grace.

God, I need it every day.

It’s the only thing that ever really makes me wanna change…”

These lyrics from We The Kingdom, “Holy Water,” were on repeat in my mind as I ran, er, was dragged on a run, with my dog a few nights ago.

It’s the only thing that ever really makes me wanna change.

Wait. The very grace that forgives us is a grace that transforms us?

I knew as I was running, er, being dragged on a run by my dog, that I had some work to do.

There are a few people who I need to forgive.

One situation in particular involves the home in which my late husband, Dan, and I raised our children. I made the mistake a few years ago of deciding to rent it out. Now, I knew there were risks, I did. I knew. But I felt the need for us to leave this home stronger than the need to hang back to continue to try to sell it. I had tried for more than a year.

Besides, the property managers I had in place to watch over it promised all would be just…fine.
But let me say again, I had a bad feeling. And, I am learning bad feelings are a gift from God too. Intuition is a gift. Learning where to trust intuition over logic is key. 

Well, fast forward a few years…and I was the owner of a home completely destroyed by renters, under the management of people who seemed to not care. A home with a mortgage in my name. Not just debt, but scary debt, because I had little control over what had happened to the home.

How could they? Who treats property that doesn’t belong to them like that? I was heartbroken as I surveyed the damage, visible from the outside and discovered mostly by a roofer I sent in to do work after a strong Midwestern storm.

He found…are you ready…bullets in the roof material. “I can’t imagine what the inside looks like,” he said. “Who is living in your home?”

This was last Spring. The year and a half that followed was a roller coaster ride of promises from the managers or tenants to have the property repaired, to purchasing it, to them…washing their hands of it...to…well, it goes on.

“Every time I hear you mention your friend Dave, I hear ‘advocate,’” my friend, Erin, said.
We were sitting on her couch in St. Louis, lamenting the situation, considering solutions. She is one of my best friends, and the wife of our worship leader back home. She’s the kind of friend who gets mad with you. Or sad. OR…celebrates with you. Erin has the kind of empathy that melts into your situation to the point that you can’t tell who this is really happening to, but you know you are not alone. 

The Dave she mentioned is another incredible friend who happens to be an attorney. Now, I didn’t want to sue anyone, no. Dave had been my advocate on many occasions, but never any that included a court case.

I met Dave not long after his son, Colin, passed away in 2006. Colin was only 19, and Dave had begun a foundation in his honor. I can’t imagine this kind of loss. No parent can even allow their mind to go there, because it’s so painful. Dave and I became quick friends, and I was honored to help serve with his foundation, making some connections for him through my work in radio. My husband passed away just a few years later, and grief would become another connection between us.
With Dave as my “advocate,” and a whole community of people praying, there was recently…just weeks ago…a miraculous answer to the home mess.
One of the managing partners began to come up with a solution to purchase the home. A solution I was sure would never happen.

I felt like I was in a long line at Six Flags, just waiting to get on another ride, a coaster that would probably take a tremendous dive as I came unbuckled, and would throw me into some neighboring woods where bears would eat me. Do bears eat people? I don’t know for sure, but in my head that is what was about to happen.
Dave, the advocate, gave him just a short window of time to show this was authentic: fourteen days.
And, he met the deadline.

After nearly two years of anxiety and fear, tears and anger, it was over. The manager purchased the home.

I was so in disbelief, I had to call the mortgage company. Seven times.

 “Your debt,” said a woman wearing an audible smile, “has been paid in full.”

The conversations with the property manager who brought the solution are now laced with apology and thankfulness that we never sued, that we gave him this opportunity to redeem himself, and make the situation right.

“Thank you SO much for your grace.”  Those were his words. Thank you for MY grace? I’d felt less than graceful throughout the process.

As I ran, er, was dragged on a run with my dog, it hit me:

Our doling out of grace, our offer of forgiveness, runs deeper and wider than a command, an example on the cross, and a clean slate for us. The very grace WE offer can change hearts.

This certainly didn’t sound like the same property manager I’d spoken to at the start of this painful process. This was a man softened by a trial, thoughtful because of all the thinking, changed by grace.
So when my friend Erin asked me after all this was finally over, a nearly two year struggle, “But still, what was the purpose?”

I wondered if it had to do with something God was accomplishing within me and all involved. And I believe that’s correct, and I also believe we won’t even know the extent of God’s work within our hardships this side of Heaven, because it’s so much bigger than we could ever understand.
I’m thankful it’s all over, and even more thankful to get a clear view of the change that can happen when God’s grace is paid forward.

“It’s the only thing that ever really makes me wanna change.”

5 Clichés that offer Truth

Christians say the funniest things.

Well, it isn’t so much that the things we say are funny, it’s that we say them so much they begin to sound funny.

Like when you say “Little Italy” seven times really fast. Go ahead. Say it. Out loud. 

Just because “Little Italy” sounds funny when you say it over and over doesn’t mean Little Italy isn’t real. Here are five trite phrases that are truth:

1.     “If God brought you to it, He’ll bring you through it.”

It sounds kinda silly. Maybe because it’s a really lame rhyme. I mean, anyone can rhyme “it” with “it.”

But it’s true. If you are attempting something God has called you to, He will equip you. (In Exodus 4, there is a great example of God equipping Moses, who said he is just not a good talker!)

2.     “You can’t take it with you.”

Typically this is said when someone is trying to downplay gain…or loss. How weird is that?

But it’s true. When my husband was alive, it wasn’t until he was very sick and on Hospice that I sensed this clicked with him. He was no longer concerned things that had consumed him just six months before. (1 Timothy 6 talks about how money/things can cause some big issues, and we came into this world with nothing, and…will leave with nothing.)

3.     “Withholding forgiveness is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.”

This is truer than we even realize. It’s just a little cringy. Because I don’t know about you, but I can’t relate. Outside of a couple Diet Coke’s in my 20s, I’ve not ever consumed poison. But, not only does not forgiving someone else make us feel we’ve eaten nothing but gummy bears and Diet Coke for a year, we’re actually commanded to forgive.

Forgive. 

(Verses in Ephesians 4, Colossians 3, Matthew 6 all talk about forgiving and being compassionate toward one another, relative to how God has done that for US.)

4.    “Worry is like paying interest on a debt you may never owe.”

Think back to something you were worried about one year ago. Social media “one year ago” reminders are really good for jarring our memories. Chances are, the thing you were worried about didn’t happen. But you worried about it.

If you can’t think of anything, try to recall “Y2K,” or look that up.

5.     “Let go, and let God.”

You just rolled your eyes. This is something your Gramma has probably said to you. 

Well, your Gramma is right.

A friend once told me that I needed to open my clinched fists and face them upward. Because something amazing happens when I surrender, and just ask God how HE is going to write the next paragraph:

My hands are open to receive the plan of a God who DOES see the big picture I cannot see. And by the way, He is a God who LOVES you like crazy. His plan is to offer you “hope and a future.”  (Jeremiah 29:11) 

I sometimes think I can mess up God’s plan, even after I’ve surrendered a situation to Him. I can’t. Consider Sarah, wife of Abraham. She wanted to have a child, and even when God promised her she’d have a baby despite her age, she considered how she might take control and make that happen. Her way.

That got messy.

But despite that, God came through on His promise, and she gave birth to a child of her own. (This dramatic story, Genesis 21) 

I guess you could say God turns our mess into a message…a test into a testimony.

But I won’t say that. 

Thanks so much for listening, and for reading. - Kelly

5 Ways to Better Love Your Coworkers (even the ones you don't like)

Workplaces are filled with people. And wherever humans gather, there is bound to be conflict.

And love is a choice, even at the office!

Here are some ways to help you better love even your most difficult coworkers. Five Ways to (choose to) Love Your Coworkers:

1. Take a quick look in the mirror to understand your part in it all. Is there really a conflict, or do you communicate or work differently, creating misunderstanding? It's best to avoid sarcasm, inside jokes and assumptions in general in the workplace, until you really, really know someone, and you're sure they "speak sarcasm" too.

2. Talk to them. If there seems to be a real conflict, or a misunderstanding, go to them, one on one, and discuss it.

Approach gently, and just as is suggested in marital conflict, let them know how something made you feel. "I felt disrespected when..." is far better than, "You were disrespectful when..." Because chances are, they didn't intend disrespect. That's what you are trying to clear up. Avoid involving a supervisor or a third party unless you are at an impasse and your job is directly negatively affected by the conflict.

3. Practice empathy. It's often said that hurting people hurt people. And, guess what? We're all hurting in one way or another. I recently heard that our actions are really expressions of need. Helping to understand where a coworker has come from, or is coming from, personally and professionally, might help you with #4.

4. Forgive. Often and actively. Make grace a daily practice.

5. Accept. We really are all pieces of a big ole puzzle. Consider how you fit in, and how your coworkers fit in, and understand that you were built to offer your own unique gifts to the team, as were they.  Actively work to respect your coworkers' talents, and how you all work together to make a whole.


Thanks for reading! - Kelly