Jennifer L. Wright's Blog, page 2

But By Your Endurance…

“I don’t believe in God because of all the bad things in the world.”

How many times have you heard this sentence? Or its sister, “I stopped believing in God because of all the bad things in this world.”

It’s a pretty common objection to God and Christianity in particular. And, on the surface, it makes sense. We Christians like to go around preaching the goodness of our God, and yet one small glimpse of the world shows us the opposite: things are not good. In fact, most of the time, they are pretty doggone awful. If God is so good, why are there things like disease, divorce, or murder? Why is there lying, betrayal, pain, rejection, and loneliness? Why do kids die young, families break apart, and countless others spend their days suffering?

It’s a great question, and one that does not have an easy answer. We could speak for days about the brokenness of this world and the fallen nature of man, which has left nothing unsullied. We could talk about the mysterious sovereignty of God and the fact that He can (and does!) work all things ultimately for our good and His glory.

But, no matter how true, these are still hard sentiments to swallow when faced with personal pain.

Yet, while I can understand why an atheist might take umbrage at the seeming dichotomy of the world’s evil and God’s goodness, it’s a little bit harder to reconcile Christians facing the same struggle. However, this seems to be all the rage: believers leaving the faith because of the evil they are witnessing in the world around them.

Again, part of me understands this: the world is a mess. But a larger part of me is flabbergasted.

Flabbergasted because Jesus Himself told his followers they should not only not be surprised by evil in this world–they should expect it.

In Luke 21, we hear Jesus talk the coming age: “Nation will be raised up against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. There will be violent earthquakes, and famines and plagues in various places, and there will be terrifying sights and great signs from heaven.” (Luke 21: 10-11)

Pretty terrible, right? It gets worse. Jesus goes on:

“…they will lay your hands on you and persecute you…you will even be betrayed by parents, brothers, relatives, and friends. They will kill some of you. You will be hated by everyone because of my name.” (Luke 21:12a-17)

Not only are things in the world going to get bad; your life as a believer will also be hard.

God is good, yes, but there is zero reason for us as believers to expect the world to be a good place as well. Jesus spoke of coming hardships, and this truth was echoed by several New Testament writers such as Timothy and Paul. Bad things happen in this world because they are supposed to happen this side of heaven. As humans with sinful hearts who have been given free will, there is simply no other outcome to be expected. And yet to use humanity’s choices as a reason to walk away from God, the One who warned us all that this was going to happen in the first place?

Why?

But, before you accuse me of being heartless, rest assured I do understand. It’s one thing to speak about evil or hardship in an abstract sense; it’s quite another to speak of it personally. When you are struggling through a broken heart, the prophesy of said adversity brings little comfort, and the goodness of God can seem a lot smaller or more distant than the badness of this world.

So, friends, if that’s you right now, can I offer a word of encouragement? Because, not only did Jesus promise affliction; He also promised hope. At the end of His rather depressing speech about coming tribulations, He offers this one small sentence:

“By your endurance, gain your lives.” (Luke 21:19)

Yes, there will be pain. There will be suffering. There will be hardships. There will be bad things in this world. But if you, in your faith, endure, there is also life. Don’t walk away from God because of evil you witness or experience; cling to Him. Hold fast to what you know is true about Who He is, even if every fiber of your being is screaming otherwise. Endure the trials, the tests, the heartbreaks by never taking the eyes off the One who never takes His eyes off you. Your faith may be battered, bruised, broken, hanging by a thread, but if you endure, you will gain your lives. You will gain unexplainable peace, comfort, and strength. You will gain His Holy Spirit, which will never leave you. You will gain a love that never breaks, bends, or fades away. You will gain a closeness to Your creator, Who will enable you to see things through His eyes, not your own.

You will gain an eternal spot in His house, where all the troubles of this world will cease to be.

Hold on, friends.

Expect bad things in this world.

But also expect rewards from your Father if you don’t fall away because it.

Endure…and gain your lives.

One Man’s Decision

President Franklin Roosevelt passed away on April 12, 1945, just weeks before the end of World War II in Europe, leaving his Vice President, Harry Truman, to gather the reins of the presidency and steer a reeling nation through what promised to be several tumultuous months. The Allies were advancing on Berlin, but victory wasn’t yet a given. On top of that, the war in the Pacific showed no signs of slowing; in fact, the battles being waged there seemed to grow bloodier by the day. Roosevelt’s warm steadfastness had been a constant source of comfort through the long, grueling years of conflict; opinions were varied on whether smaller, meeker Truman would have the same effect on the American people. He had some big shoes to fill.

And, he was soon to find out, some even weightier ones.

On this day back in 1945, two weeks after Roosevelt’s death, Secretary of War Henry Stimson and General Leslie Groves met with Truman to discuss a project, one authorized by his predecessor but so top secret, even the then-vice president wasn’t allowed to know of its existence. It was called ‘The Manhattan Project.’ And its goal? To create the world’s first atomic weapon.

The project had been approved under Roosevelt at the urging of several top scientists who believed the Germans were working on something similar. However, the war in Europe was drawing to a close, and intelligence had informed the U.S. that the Nazis had been unsuccessful in their attempts; the threat posed by Germany was rapidly dwindling. On one hand, it would be entirely plausible to abandon the project.

On the other hand, the war in the Pacific was still raging. The bomb could be useful rectifying that. Plus, there were whispers of Soviet subterfuge. An atomic weapon in the hands of a Communist empire could only spell disaster…unless the U.S. held one in their arsenal too.

But, ultimately, the decision was entirely up to Truman. Roosevelt was gone; Truman was commander-in-chief. He alone would decide whether the Manhattan project would halt or move forward, whether the U.S. would kindle or smother the birth of the atomic age.

On April 25, 1945, Harry Truman gave the scientists permission to proceed with their work.

And the world was never the same.

What’s So Good About Good Friday?

Today is Good Friday.

And, outwardly, there is nothing good about it.

Because today is the day we remember Jesus’s death on a cross.

An innocent man. A good man. A perfect man.

Murdered.

And not just murdered. Whipped. Flogged. Beaten. Mocked, jeered, and spat upon by the crowds. Bloodied by a crown of thorns, stripped of any basic human dignity, forced to march up a hill carrying the instrument of his own demise. Then and only then were the nails driven into his hands and feet, yet another source of agony as he was lifted into the sky for all to witness his slow, brutal death.

Good Friday was not good at all.

In fact, it was absolutely horrific.

Even more so when we take our eyes off the cross long enough to realize that we were the ones who put Jesus there.

So what’s so good about Good Friday?

Absolutely nothing….if the story had ended there.

Good Friday is a good Friday because Jesus took my sin with Him to that cross. It’s good because His death paid the penalty once and for all for all of the ways you and I had ever–and would ever–choose ourselves over our God. It’s good because, with His blood, Jesus washed us cleaned and forged a pathway to everlasting communion with the Father. It’s good because He did what I could have never done for myself: He made me righteous.

He gave me life.

He gave me hope.

Good Friday is good because it reminds us of the need for our own death and resurrection in this life. It illustrates God’s love and inspires us to live a life honoring it. Not because we are worthy but because God is. Mostly, though, it reminds us that there is no victory without sacrifice.

Jesus made that ultimate sacrifice.

For you. For me.

For us.

But He also assured our ultimate victory.

Good Friday is good, friends, because Sunday is coming.

A + B + C = ???

I have a control problem.

Ever since I was a little girl, I have had a very clear-cut image of the way my life is supposed to be. Granted, when I was younger, that vision looked like a high-rise apartment in New York City where I had a chauffeur drive me to and from my job as a well-respected investigative journalist. When I got older and began to realize that wasn’t really what I wanted, it didn’t stop me from visualizing a picture of my new ideal life. And I never had any doubt I would achieve it; it was simple math. If I did A + B + C, naturally it would equal D.

And, because of this very black and white way of thinking, it became imperative that I do everything I could to control things around me. If D would only come about because of a carefully orchestrated A, B, and C then, naturally, it was my job to make sure A, B, and C came to fruition.

The problem is that life isn’t black and white. And A + B + C + doesn’t always equal D, no matter how much we want it to. We can do everything right, and still not end up remotely close to the vision we want for our lives. This is why surrender is so important. Scripture tells us over and over again that submitting to God’s will is key.

“Then Jesus told his disciples, ‘If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.'” (Matthew 16:34)

“ You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had. Though he was God, he did not think of equality with God as something to cling to. Instead, he gave up his divine privileges; he took the humble position of a slave and was born as a human being. When he appeared in human form, he humbled himself in obedience to God and died a criminal’s death on a cross.” (Philippians 2: 5-8)

“Submit to God, and you will have peace; then things will go well for you. Listen to his instructions, and store them in your heart.” (Job 22: 21-22)

And, of course, this line in the Lord’s Prayer: “Your kingdom come, Your will be done in earth, as it is in heaven.” (Matthew 6:10)

As Christians, we know this. If you’re anything like me, surrender is even a part of your daily prayer. Or, at least, it’s part of the words of your daily prayer.

The problem is in the execution.

Because truly living out “Your will be done” requires a relinquishing of control.

And that’s not an easy thing to do.

But what I’ve discovered is that when I say I want God’s will to be done in my life and yet continue to pursue my own (especially when its obvious God is trying to steer me in another direction), I make my desires an idol. That’s heavy language for sure, but an idol is anything we deem as equal to or greater than God. And when I resist God’s plan for my life–a plan God promises is ultimately for my good (see Jeremiah 29:11)–and pursue my own wants, I am essentially raising those things above God; the achievement of those goals is more important that obedience to Him.

It’s a tough truth to swallow. Surrendering to God with my lips….and then bowing down to idols with my choices.

True surrender is a daily–or perhaps hourly–struggle, especially for a control freak like me. A + B + C = D….except when God decides it actually equals E. Or F. Or maybe even a letter of the alphabet we haven’t even invented yet. But I never want to be so bound up in the outcome that it itself becomes an idol. May I never start to worship the dream over the Dream-Maker.

Let’s direct our love toward the only One is worthy of it. The One who directs our steps and holds the future in His hands.

His equation may not look like mine.

But it is always the right answer.

Which Flag?

The first “official” flag of the United States was “the Continental Colors,” also known as the “Grand Union Flag.” It consisted of thirteen red and white stripes with the United Kingdom’s flag in the upper-left-hand corner, also known as the canton. It was the same design as the flag for the British East India Company that flew from 1701 to 1801. However, the British East India Company’s flag ranged from nine to thirteen red and white stripes and was usually only flown when it was sailing in the Indian Ocean. Though some remain skeptical, there is reason to believe the similarities between the two flags was intentional. Benjamin Franklin is said to have been a strong proponent of aligning the new American flag with the company’s as a way of symbolizing American loyalty to the Crown as well as the United States’ aspirations to be self-governing, as was the East India Company. Some colonists also felt that the company could be a powerful ally in the American Revolutionary War, as they shared similar aims and grievances against the British government’s tax policies. Colonists, therefore, flew the company’s flag to endorse the company as well as proclaim their support for the new nation.

However, the “Grand Union Flag” wasn’t the only one flown during this time period. Christopher Gadsden designed “The Gadsden Flag” in 1775. This flag depicts a rattlesnake with the phrase “DON’T TREAD ON ME” in a field of yellow and was used by the Continental Marines. It is still sometimes flown today. Another flag known as “The Moultrie Flag,” was designed by Colonel William Moultrie and depicted a white crescent moon with the word “LIBERTY” inscribed within it on a field of navy blue. It was flown during the American victory at the Battle of Sullivan’s Island in June 1776.

With all of these competing flags, the Second Continental Congress decided an “official” flag was needed. On June 14, 1777, they passed the Flag Resolution which stated: “Resolved, That the flag of the thirteen United States be thirteen stripes, alternate red and white; that the union be thirteen stars, white in a blue field, representing a new constellation.”

However, the Flag Resolution did not specify any particular arrangement, number of points, nor orientation for the stars and the arrangement or whether the flag had to have seven red stripes and six white ones or vice versa. The appearance was up to the maker of the flag. Some flag makers arranged the stars into one big star, in a circle or in rows and some replaced a state’s star with its initial. In 1795, another resolution was passed, increasing the number of stars and stripes from 13 to 15 (to reflect the entry of Vermont and Kentucky as states of the Union) but still not specifying a precise design.

It wasn’t until April 4, 1818, 207 years ago today, that Congress finally standardized the flag: 20 stars (the current number of states at the time), with a new star to be added when each new state was admitted. The number of stripes was reduced to 13, honoring the original colonies, and the placement of stars was to be linear, with points facing upwards.

Let Down Your Nets

I heard a rhetorical question the other day that really got my mind spinning.

In a podcast hosted by a well-known, respected Bible teacher, the guest was discussing a story found in Luke 5. In it, Jesus was preaching to a crowd on the shores of Lake Gennesaret when “he saw two boats at the edge of the lake; the fishermen had left them and were washing their nets. He got into one of the boats, which belonged to Simon, and asked him to put out a little from the land. Then he sat down and was teaching the crowds from the boat.” (verses 5: 2-3)

The story goes on to say that “when he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, ‘Put out into deep water and let down your nets for a catch.'” (verse 4)

The guest explained that this was a counter-intuitive request for Jesus to make of Simon. Fishing was done in the early morning hours, when the water near the surface of the lake was cool. At this point in the day, the surface waters had warmed considerably, forcing the fisher toward the bottom of the lake in search of cooler temperatures–way beyond the reach of Simon’s nets. What He was asking of Simon was an exercise in futility, something Simon, as a well-seasoned fisherman, understood.

And yet, when we read the story, we tend to focus on Simon’s response (and understandably so): “‘Master,’ Simon replied, ‘we’ve worked hard all night long and caught nothing. But if you say so, I will let down the nets.'” (verse 5)

The amazing faith this man showed at this particular moment. Keep in mind–this was before he had been called to be a disciple. Before being called Jesus’s “rock” and before witnessing so many of the miracles that would define Jesus’s earthly ministry. For a man weary from a fruitless night on the job to take up his nets one more time, no matter how ineffective he understood the exercise to be, simply because Jesus said so?

Incredible.

But the guest on this particular podcast asked something I’d never thought before:

“Why didn’t Jesus just tell the fish to get into the boat?”

The guest said it with a laugh, a kind of tongue-in-cheek lark as she moved on to more important topics. But I couldn’t get it out of my head. Because it’s a good point. After all, we learn all the way back in Genesis that God created all things, a sentiment echoed all throughout Scripture that “for in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him.” (Colossians 1:16) The Book of Job says “but ask the animals, and they will teach you, or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish in the sea inform you. Which of all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.” (Job 12:7-10)

And not only did God create all things; He has dominion over all things, a fact we see illustrated so beautifully in Matthew when, during a story, Jesus “rebuked the winds and the sea, an there was a great calm.” (Matthew 8:26b)

All of creation is held in God’s hand. All of creation bows to His commands.

So, if He wanted to prove something to Peter, why didn’t He just tell the fish to get into the boat? It sure would have saved a lot of effort, time, and sweat on Simon’s part and, quite possibly, would have been just as effective miracle-wise. I mean, if I had been there and witnessed a bunch of fish jumping into a boat on command, I most certainly would have sat up straighter and taken notice. In fact, one might argue it might have been more effective; without the need to push off shore and go out into deep waters, this particular miracle could have been seen by the hundreds gathered around, listening to Jesus teach.

And yet that wasn’t what He did.

Instead, He told Simon to push off shore and let down his nets again. Simon obeyed and “when they did this, they caught a great number of fish, and their nets began to tear. So they signaled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them; they came and filled both boats so full that they began to sink.” (Luke 5: 6-7)

Knowing Jesus doesn’t make mistakes or do anything haphazardly, we can know that the way He chose to perform this miracle was just as intentional as the why. Yes, He could have just commanded the fish to hop into the boat, but He didn’t. Instead, He had Simon become an active participant in the event; the miracle would occur…but only if Simon engaged with what Jesus was telling him to do.

I think Jesus chose to do this particular miracle in this particular way because He was preparing Simon for his calling of discipleship. Jesus was, in essence, telling Simon that He was going to be doing amazing things–and He wanted Simon to be His partner in it. Simon’s humility and willingness to obey–even when it didn’t make any sense–was the first step in a lifetime of walking with Jesus, both before and after His crucifixion.

And you know what?

Jesus wants the same thing for us.

God is still doing amazing work all around….and He wants us to be a part of it! He doesn’t want us to sit on the sidelines, twiddling our thumbs, waiting for a few Old Testament miracles to fall from the sky (or jump in our boats). He wants us to obey, to engage, and to participate; then and only then will our eyes be open to His presence, active and moving, in every facet of our lives. You see, God can work in any way He wants. He created the world, after all. And yet He chooses to do so much of His work through us! We get to be partners with the God of the universe. What an amazing gift!

So what are you waiting for? Get out there! Let down those nets! You never know what fish you’ll catch–or what miracles you’ll witness–when you simply bow before Jesus and, in humility, offer Him a “because you said so, I will.”

Hogs, Bitterness, and Blood

It started with a possible murder and pig-stealing.

It ended, almost thirty years later, with a wedding.

The McCoy family, headed by patriarch Randolph McCoy, lived on the Kentucky side of the Tug Fork River. They were a lower-middle-class family, owning a 300-acre farm and subsisting mainly from its bounty.

On the other side, in West Virginia, lived the Hatfield family, led by William “Devil Anse” Hatfield. The Hatfields were affluent, thanks in no small part to Anse’s successful timber operation, and benefited from many political connections.

Despite their economic disparities, the families shared some key similarities. Both families dabbled in the manufacture and selling of illegal moonshine. And both families fought for the Confederacy during the Civil War, with the lone exception being Asa Harmon McCoy, Randle’s brother, who fought for the Union.

And that’s where the trouble started.

In 1865, Asa was wounded in battle and returned home to convalesce. Before he could recover, however, he was murdered. A group of Confederate Home Guards known as the Logan Wildcats were held responsible, but rumors persisted that Devil Anse Hatfield, though he may not have pulled the trigger, was somehow involved. By all accounts, Hatfield did not take the death of the Confederacy well.

Nothing was proven, however, and the conflict between the two families didn’t escalate until thirteen year later, in 1878, after a dispute about the ownership of a hog.

Floyd Hatfield, Anse’s cousin, claimed ownership of the hog, but so did Randolph McCoy, who said the notches on the pig’s ears were McCoy, not Hatfield, marks. The matter was taken to the local Justice of the Peace–a Hatfield named Anderson “Preacher Anse”–who, unsurprisingly, ruled in favor of the Hatfields. He based his judgment on the testimony of Bill Staton.

In June 1880, Staton was killed by two McCoy brothers, Sam and Paris, who were later acquitted on the grounds of self-defense.

Tensions between the two families ratcheted up when Roseanna McCoy entered a relationship with Devil Anse’s son Johnson, known as “Johnse,” and left her family to live with the Hatfields in West Virginia. Roseanna eventually returned to the McCoys, but when the couple tried to resume their relationship, Johnse was arrested by the McCoys on outstanding Kentucky bootlegging warrants.

It only got worse from there.

A year later, Ellison Hatfield, brother of Anse, was stabbed twenty-six times by three of Roseanna’s younger brothers: Tolbert, Phamer (Pharmer), and Bud during an Election Day party. The McCoy brothers were eventually arrested. Before they could be transported to Pikeville to stand trial, however, a large group of Hatfield vigilantes, lead by Anse, ntercepted the constables and their prisoners. The brothers were taken by force to West Virginia where each was tied to pawpaw bushes and shot numerous times. Soon, another McCoy, the second son of the murdered Asa named Larkin “Lark” McCoy, was ambushed by an alleged West Virginia posse led by the Hatfields.

Warrants were issues, but political wrangling and back-room deals ensured no parties were ever truly held responsible. Over the next several months, dozens more Hatfields and McCoys were found dead, with each body claiming to be revenge for the one before it.

The feud reached its peak on January 1, 1888. Several members of the Hatfield surrounded the McCoy cabin and opened fire on the sleeping family. Awakened by the shooting, the McCoys managed to grab their weapons and fired back. The cabin was then set on fire in an effort to drive the McCoys into the open. Panicking, the McCoys rushed to every exit they could find. Randolph managed to escape and hide inside the pig pen. Most of his children managed to escape into the woods. Two of Randolph’s children, Calvin and Alifair, were shot and killed near the family well as they exited their home. Randolph’s wife, Sarah, was caught, beaten, and eventually killed. With his house burning, Randolph and his remaining family members were able to escape farther into the wilderness; his children, unprepared for the elements, suffered frostbite. The remaining McCoys moved to Pikeville to escape the West Virginia raiding parties.

With over two dozen dead on either side, the governors of West Virginia and Kentucky threatened to have their militias invade each other’s states in order to restore the peace. On August 24, 1888, eight of the Hatfields and their friends were indicted for the murder of Randolph’s young daughter, Alifair McCoy , who was killed during the New Year’s Massacre. Eventually, the men were tried in Kentucky; all were found guilty. Seven received life imprisonment, while the eighth, Ellison “Cottontop” Mounts, was sentenced to death. His last words on the gallows?

“The Hatfields made me do it.”

Although the trials provided some closure to the feud, most believe it didn’t end officially until the March 21, 1891 wedding between Rosanna McCoy’s daughter, Nancy McCoy, and Devil Anse Hatfield’s son, Johnse Hatfield, 134 years ago today. The couple was married in Pike County, Kentucky, with the ceremony attended by members of both families.

The marriage between Nancy and Johnse did not immediately quell all animosity, as suspicions and tensions still lingered. However, as the years passed, the families began to coexist more peacefully, with the younger generations intermarrying and forging friendships that would have been unimaginable during the height of the feud.

Today, The Hatfield and McCoy Reunion Festival and Marathon are held annually in Kentucky and West Virginia, attracting thousands. In addition to the races, there is also “a tug-of-war across the Tug Fork tributary near which the feuding families lived, a live re-enactment of scenes from their most famous fight, a motorcycle ride, live entertainment, Hatfield–McCoy landmark tours, a cornbread contest, pancake breakfast, arts, crafts, and dancing.”

What Doesn’t Kill You…

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

It’s an old adage, one you’re probably familiar with, and, on the surface, it does have its merits. It’s used to encourage stamina, perseverance, and an overall positive attitude in the face of difficulties. You can do hard things, it seems to say, and it will make you stronger (i.e. better) in the process. Which, yes, is often the case.

But, all too often…does it? If something doesn’t kill us, does it really make us stronger?

I can think of plenty of people I know who have gone through tremendous hardships–death of a loved one, divorce, serious illness–and have come out of these experiences absolutely, 100% changed for the better. There’s an internal light in these people, a beautiful sense of wisdom and grace.

But I know too many more who have gone through awful circumstance and not come stronger. I have witnessed people fall into drugs, alcoholism, and other abusive/destructive behaviors. I’ve seen people withdraw, becoming shells of themselves, or else lash out, transforming into people who are either unsafe or impractical to be around. I have seen people fall away from faith, never to return.

So…why the disparity? Why does “what doesn’t kill us make us stronger” only apply to some?

I am no expert. But I suspect it has little to do with internal fortitude or character and way more to do with trust.

I think back to the story of Joseph found in the later chapters of Genesis. Admittedly, Joseph was not a perfect person (no one is) but even that was no excuse for the brutality he endured at the hands of his brothers: being thrown into a pit and ultimately sold into slavery in Egypt. On top of that, once in Egypt, he was thrown into prison through no fault of his own and even forgotten there for years by someone he had helped who promised to put in “a good one” to the Pharaoh for him.

I’m not quite sure those same circumstances wouldn’t have broken me. But they didn’t break Joseph. Nor did they kill him. They did, indeed, make him stronger. So strong, in fact, that when his brothers came to him years later, begging for food due to a famine in the land, he chose to bless them rather than curse them, to provide them home and substance rather than letting them starve. Of course, I’m just speculating here, but I can’t help but wonder how Joseph would have reacted to their request if it had come earlier. Say, a week, a month, a year after his arrival in Egypt? If he hadn’t gotten through those difficult circumstances, would he have become the type of man who could have forgiven his brothers?

In Genesis 50:20, we hear Joseph say: “You intended to harm me, but God intended it all for good. He brought me to this position so I could save the lives of many people.”

He’s speaking to his brothers here, but he could just have easily have been speaking to the enemy. The things that had happened to Joseph were a result of human actions, but they were ones spurred on by the enemy seeking, as he always does, to “kill, steal, and destroy” (John 10:10). And he would have been successful had Joseph not allowed God to take the problems the enemy had created and use them for good.

When we trust in God–really trust in Him–we can view any and all hardship in His light. We can see it as an exercise in trust as well as learning to be intentional in seeking out the good–no matter how small–within in. Because, although the bad things of this world do not come from God, they are allowed by Him. On purpose and for a purpose. And I believe it’s only by holding steadfastly to this truth that we can come through our hardships not only alive, but also stronger.

That’s how we defeat the enemy, friends. He uses the bad things of this world to pull us from God. To make us question Him, to lead us to other things he promises will fulfill us or numb the pain. But it’s those very same empty promises that break us, that lead us through our difficult circumstances into someplace even worse than we were before.

But, if we let Him, God can use the bad things of this world for good. He can take those attacks from the enemy and make us stronger–physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. He can help us see Him and others in a whole new light. He can draw us closer, rather than further, away.

So perhaps the old saying should be: “What doesn’t kill you can make you stronger–if you give it to God.”

I’m Henry the VIII, I Am…

I’m ‘Enery the Eighth, I am,
‘Enery the Eighth I am, I am!
I got married to the widow next door,
She’s been married seven times before
And every one was an ‘Enery
She wouldn’t have a Willie nor a Sam
I’m her eighth old man named ‘Enery
‘Enery the Eighth, I am!

I was not even alive in the 1960’s, but please tell me I’m not the only one with this ear-worm stuck perpetually in her head. Although it’s been sung by dozens of different British musicians, it’s the Herman’s Hermits version that lives in my head rent free. So, when I sat down to write this week’s History Friday post about the actual Henry VIII, I couldn’t help but–once again–start to sing along.

Sorry for ruining your day if it’s stuck in your head now too.

Henry VIII was the second Tudor monarch after his father, Henry VII. He was king from 22 April 1509 until his death in 1547. During that time, he expanded the Royal Navy, oversaw the annexation of Wales to England, and was the first English monarch to rule as King of Ireland.

But almost none of that stuff is remembered.

Because he was also the king with six wives.

In November 1501, Henry’s brother Arthur married Catherine, the youngest child of King Ferdinand II of Aragon and Queen Isabella I of Castile. However, Arthur died just 20 weeks after the wedding, leaving Henry as heir to the throne. Still keen on securing a martial alliance between England and Spain, Henry VII offered his other son to the widowed Catherine. On 23 June 1503, a treaty was signed for their marriage, and they were betrothed two days later. When Henry VII died on 21 April 1509, 17-year-old Henry succeeded him as king the following day and vowed to make good on his promise to his father. He and Catherine were wed at the friar’s church in Greenwich on 11 June 1509.

Soon after marrying Henry, Catherine conceived. She gave birth to a stillborn girl on 31 January 1510. About four months later, Catherine again became pregnant. On 1 January 1511, New Year’s Day, a son–also named Henry–was born. Tragically, however, the child died seven weeks later. Catherine had two stillborn sons in 1513 and 1515, but gave birth in February 1516 to a girl, Mary. By all accounts, relations between Henry and Catherine were understandably strained during this time period. But, rather than uniting in their grief, the king sought solace in the arms of other women.

One of these was Mary Boleyn, Catherine’s lady-in-waiting. In 1525, as Henry grew more impatient with Catherine’s inability to produce the male heir he desired, he became enamored of Mary Boleyn’s sister, Anne Boleyn. Unlike her sister, however, Anne, resisted his attempts to seduce her and refused to become his mistress, forcing King Henry’s hand. Rather than another dalliance, he sought an annulment of his marriage to Catherine.

And on this day in 1530, Pope Clement VII sounded rejected the monarch’s request.

What followed was a mess of modern-day soap opera standards. Enraged, Henry broke with the Catholic Church and married his mistress anyway. He initiated the English Reformation, which separated the Church of England from papal authority, and appointed himself Supreme Head of the Church of England, dissolving convents and monasteries.

It was no surprise he ended up excommunicated.

Not that things got much better on the home front.

Henry’s marriage did not prosper. Anne, too, suffered several miscarriages and refused to play the submissive role expected of her. Unpopular reforms only added to the tension. Although Henry carried on many affairs during their time together, Anne was ultimately arrested, accused of treasonous adultery, and beheaded on 19 May 1536.

A third wife Jane Seymour did present him with a son, the future Edward VI, before dying of childbirth complications. His fourth wife, Anne of Cleves barely lasted a few months before an annulment.

History repeated itself when Henry accused his fifth wife Catherine Howard of adultery, having her beheaded as well.

His last wife Catherine Parr survived him…but perhaps only because he died less than four years after their wedding.

Such a catchy song for a, um, not so catchy man.

Don’t Walk Away

“It’s hopeless.”

This is a common refrain around my house, usually arising from my thirteen year-old when he has to study for a test. A little bit melodramatic for sure, but that’s my son (or, rather, this age) in a nutshell. There are times when he feels it is physically impossible for his brain to hold any more information. This is usually where I suggest he take a break, take a walk and, when he returns, let me help. And, this is also usually where my son will mutter (once again), “Why? There’s no point. It’s hopeless.”

Even though he knows I am willing and able to help, he refuses to ask because, in his mind, there’s nothing I can do in this hopeless situation. I can’t implant the knowledge in his brain, can’t learn it for him. So why bother?

Do you ever feel that way about Jesus sometimes?

When faced with a situation that seems completely and utterly hopeless, do you ever neglect asking Him for help? You know it’s what you’re supposed to do–what He wants you to do–but you simply don’t have the heart to do it. Because, honestly, what could He possibly do? When you lose a loved one, when your marriage is past the point of repair, when your wayward child makes yet another bad choice. These situations are heavy. Difficult. And, especially when you’ve pleaded for intervention over and over again, there sometimes comes a point where you just don’t have the energy to ask anymore.

I get it. I understand. And so did the people in Jesus’s time.

In Luke 8, we meet a man named Jarius. He was a leader of the synagogue and…his twelve year-old daughter was dying. Though it doesn’t explicitly say, I can imagine this man had prayed a hole through the floor of heaven, begging for healing for his daughter. We don’t know exactly what was wrong with her or how long it had been going on. All we know is that, when Jesus showed up, “he fell down at [His] feet and pleaded with him to come to his house.” (verse 41b) These are not the actions of a man full of confidence and energy. These are the actions of a desperate man, down to his last thread of hope.

However, before Jesus could do anything for Jarius, “someone came from the synagogue leader’s house anded said, ‘Your daughter is dead. Don’t bother the teacher anymore.'” (verse 49)

Pause for a moment here. Picture the scene. A large crowd of people, all pressing in to Jesus, all with their own worries, illnesses, needs. And, among them, Jarius, an anguished father, shooting a shot in the dark at the eleventh hour…only to be told it’s too late. His daughter is dead.

And–worst of all–people telling him he should not bother Jesus anymore because his particular request is no longer relevant. The situation is, without a doubt, hopeless. There’s nothing Jesus can do now. So stop asking; leave Him alone. Can you even imagine?

Thankfully, I have never experienced the death of a child. But…I think I can imagine what the man was feeling. I, too, have been in situations so hopeless that a part of me has wondered if I should just leave Jesus alone. Maybe the situation has been going on so long without a resolution or else I can’t imagine any possible way He could fix it.

It’s hopeless. I should stop bothering Him.

And, friend, I can imagine that you might know what that feels like too.

But here’s the beautiful thing: Jesus never sees things as we do.

Things are never hopeless…so long as we keep the faith.

“When Jesus heard it, he answered him, ‘Don’t be afraid. Only believe, and she will be saved.’ After he came to the house, he let no one enter with him except Peter, John, James, and the child’s father and mother. Everyone was crying and mourning for her. But he said, ‘Stop crying, because she is not dead but asleep.’…So he took her by the hand and called out, ‘Child, get up!’ Her spirit returned, and she got up at once…” (verses 50-55a).

Please notice several things here: first of all, Jesus wasn’t governed by what those around Him said was impossible. Secondly, amid the press of the crowd, He took Jarius and a few of His disciples to Jarius’s house. In that moment–Jarius’s weakest–His attention was solely on the man and His need. The noise, the crowds, the words: none of it mattered to Jesus. His heart was with Jarius and his family. And, lastly, Jesus did the impossible: he brought Jarius’s daughter back to life.

But what if Jarius had listened to the voices in the crowd (or, perhaps, the voices inside his own head), telling him he should walk away from Jesus? To not bother Him anymore because the situation was hopeless. He would have missed this beautiful opportunity for faith and restoration.

So friends, let us not stop praying. In hopeless situations, let us cling to hope, even if it’s only by a string. Let us search out light in the darkness, warmth in the cold, peace in the chaos. Even when those around us–or our own hearts–beg us to stop seeking Him, trusting Him.

Bothering Him.

Because you’re never really bothering Him. And you never know when Jesus is going to step in and make the impossible possible.