Lora Jones's Blog, page 2

A Change Worth Making

Change is hard.

That’s the theme of life right now. In nearly every aspect of our lives we are facing change – school, work, church and home. Even family relationships are being affected because many are not free to be with the ones they love, and others are now cooped up together!

I’ve always enjoyed time at home alone, but to be told to stay there for three weeks is a bit overwhelming. The change feels strange, and could easily be discouraging if I don’t focus on accomplishing something worthwhile.

So, I decided to try something new (at the insistence of many of you!)

Last week, I posted my very first Facebook video, “Change is Hard”. I simply hoped God would use it to bring encouragement to everyone who saw it. The trial run went so well that I posted another one yesterday. This time, I presented a challenge to everyone during this time of great change:

Give yourself some alone time with your God and your Bible during this “stay at home” order.

In order to help everyone get started, I suggested the book of Ruth. If you haven’t read it lately, I encourage you to do so. First, if you haven’t watched the second Facebook video “Where to Start,” I encourage you to do so, because I shared some facts about the story which will help you understand it better. Then, either open your Bible, or follow this link to read the Book of Ruth. Don’t worry, it’s only 4 chapters long.

The story of Ruth and Naomi is a tender one for me. My heart goes out to Naomi for obvious reasons. I know what it’s like to lose my husband and my children. And I understand what it’s like to become bitter. But I also know the God who brings hope back into a broken life through the gift of a daughter.

That’s the story I would like to tell you today.

After the accident, I continued attending the church where my husband preached and my family attended. There I found comfort and support. A few months later, the youth pastor asked me to lead a Bible study for college students through our church. Even though my brain still struggled to think clearly at that point, I thought I could try since I expected only the three college students who were in our church at that time.

That’s not what happened.

Instead, those three invited their friends to come hear “the lady who lost her family.” I was surprised and a bit overwhelmed, but that night started something big in my life. On a whim, I invited the kids to do their laundry at my house instead of paying for it at the laundromat. In no time at all, my home filled with students doing laundry, working on homework, and having great current day event debates around the dining room table.

I didn’t really know who “Lora” was, without my family, and I didn’t know how to find her. God used these students to help me take steps forward in that process. They became my bridge to life.

But God was up to much more than that.

Three years later, I moved back to Liberal, Kansas for a job at First Baptist Church. The church allowed me to hire an intern to help me with summer camps and Bible schools. Of course, I messaged my college kids from Miami. Teresa answered that message and moved to Liberal for the summer. In fact, she lived with me the next three summers.

A special relationship began to form between us. Little by little. God knew what I needed, and God knew what was coming in Teresa’s life.

Unexpectedly, and without warning, Teresa’s mom passed away. Then, shortly thereafter, her father was diagnosed with cancer and suffered a stroke. Teresa was still young, and very much afraid. We began to spend more and more time together. With great sorrow, we said goodbye to her father a few months later.

Finally, the lightbulb came on. God had prepared the way for us, years ago. Without us realizing what He was doing, He had been creating a mother-daughter relationship between us. We needed each other, as family.

Just like God gave Ruth to Naomi, God gave Teresa to me. (If you would like to read more of the details of my story with Teresa, you can find it in Song of a Wounded Heart, Chapter 17.)

But God is up to so much more than that.
He has an amazing gift for ALL of us.

Just like Boaz became Ruth’s rescuer, Jesus wants to be our rescuer. He is our kinsman redeemer. Let me explain. First, He qualifies as our kinsman because He was born of Mary, making him human like you and me.

Just like Naomi, we have a problem we cannot fix on our own. God requires everyone who has sinned to be separated from Him in eternity. We can’t buy or earn our way into heaven. Just like Naomi didn’t have the money to buy her property back, we need someone to provide a way for us to be right with God again.

In His love for us, God allowed Jesus to pay the penalty of separation for us. He became separated from God through His death on the cross. And then He proved He had the power to give us eternal life by rising from the grave. Jesus willingly became my redeemer and rescuer when He bought back my heritage as a child of God – a heritage I lost through sin. He made a way for me to return to God’s family.

It’s an amazing, life changing gift – it’s everything you need, and even more than you hoped it could be.

Believing in Jesus is a change worth making.

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Highlights of Israel – The Mount of Olives

Photo taken from the Mount of Olives

Stories filled my mind as I sat on the Mount of Olives. The view was spectacular. From here I could see the entire Temple courtyard. In Jesus’ day, the temple stood in its glory in the center of that courtyard, approximately where the golden dome now stands.

Jesus spent a lot of time with His disciples here, on this mountain.

John 11

The disciples feared traveling near Jerusalem because they knew the religious leaders hated Jesus and wanted Him dead. But they couldn’t deny Jesus the trip to see his friends Mary and Martha after their brother Lazarus died. So, when they arrived in Bethany, everyone was on high alert for conflict.  They were only two miles from Jerusalem, on the southeastern slope of the Mount of Olives.

But Jesus boldly walked up to the tomb and commanded Lazarus to come out. The disciples blinked in shock at his suggestion. Then suddenly, Lazarus came walking out of the grave. I bet the disciples weren’t the only ones wide-eyed – imagine the look on Lazarus’ face! Silence broke into celebration. Fear disappeared in the face of resurrection from the dead.

The next few weeks seemed normal. They traveled further away from Jerusalem and resumed their ministry.

Jewish Cemetery on Mount of Olives
Thousands of graves face Jerusalem.

 

Jewish graves cover the Mount of Olives. Once the body has decayed, the bones are placed in small boxes on the hillside. This graveyard has been in existence over 3000 years and holds 150,000 graves. Unlike our country’s tradition of flowers, the mourners leave small pebbles on the grave boxes of their loved ones. I wonder what Lazarus felt as he walked among the bones.

 

 

Matthew 21:1-17

We find Jesus at the Mount of Olives a few weeks later. They returned to see Mary, Martha and Lazarus at Bethany, on the southeastern slope of the Mount of Olives. Following their visit, the disciples climbed the Mount with Jesus and waited for His instructions concerning Passover, only a few days away. I’m sure their emotions fluttered between fear of the religious leaders, and the joyful memories of Lazarus coming back to life.

The narrow, steep path descending from the Mount of Olives.

Jesus sent them for a donkey in a nearby village. Then he sat on the colt and rode into Jerusalem from the Mount of Olives. A celebration awaited them. People lined the streets cheering the one who could raise the dead. Crowds shouted “Hosanna” and laid their coats and palm branches on the road before Him in His honor.

Maybe this trip to Jerusalem wouldn’t be so bad after all! The disciples probably started daydreaming about reigning with Jesus in His kingdom instead of worrying about dying.

The city streets of Jerusalem are narrow. I envisioned the crowds of people and the noise of the Hosannas as we walked down the Mount of Olives, and then back up the hill of Jerusalem. Jesus probably entered the eastern gate into Jerusalem, which is now sealed.

Matthew 26:17-29

The disciples spent the week in Jerusalem with Jesus, as the city began to fill with pilgrims coming to celebrate Passover.

On Thursday, Jesus led the Passover meal with the disciples in a gathering room above a home in Jerusalem. The disciples expected a relaxing evening, filled with the meaningful story of God’s miraculous rescue of the people of Israel from Egyptian slavery. They knew the story by heart. That was the point – retell the story every year so future generations never forget the love and power of our God.

Each Passover, they ate unleavened bread and roasted lamb, re-enacting the night the angel of death “passed over” their homes, and took the life of every firstborn son in every Egyptian home. That’s the night Pharaoh freed the Israelites. He feared our God.

But Jesus didn’t follow the traditional story line. Instead, when he passed the unleavened bread, he said, “Take and eat; this is my body,” (Matthew 26:26) and when he passed the cup, he said, “this is my blood of the covenant which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.” (Matthew 26:28)

Suddenly, the room filled with sorrow.

Matthew 26:30-35

“When they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.” Matthew 26:30

At the Mount of Olives, Jesus explained more to the disciples. He told them that the shepherd will be struck, and the sheep will be scattered. When Peter claimed that he would never run away, Jesus solemnly told Peter he would not only leave, he would deny even knowing Jesus.

Gulp.

Olive grove on the Mount of Olives

As I looked at the olive trees scattered across the hillside, I imagined Peter walking among them. This is the place where Jesus and his disciples retreated from the crowds of Jerusalem. This is where they talked and laughed and learned from Jesus. And I’m sure this is where the disciples spent time thinking among the olive groves as they considered the difficult words of Jesus.

We know what happened next. Jesus was betrayed, abused, crucified and died. Willing to pay the price of separation from God in exchange for me, God’s son paid my penalty – and yours.

And then He rose from the dead proving He has the power to raise us from the dead. Then He spent 40 more days with them, teaching them and building their faith.

Acts 1:6-14

Guess where Jesus met his disciples for the last time? Yes, the Mount of Olives. There, he rose into the sky while the disciples watched in awe.

Monumental, true stories of the past happened in this special place. But none of them hold a candle to the moment still to come – when He returns to the Mount of Olives.

“On that day his feet will stand on the Mount of Olives, east of Jerusalem, and the Mount of Olives will be split in two from east to west, forming a great valley, with half of the mountain moving north and half moving south. . . The Lord will be king over the whole earth. On that day there will be one Lord, and his name the only name.” Zechariah 13:4,9

(This is part 3 of a series from my recent trip to Israel. If you missed the others, you can find them here: Swaddling Clothes and The Western Wall.

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Highlights of Israel – the Western Wall

Many of you have asked me to share more about my recent trip to Israel. I am delighted to do so!  It’s an overwhelming feat to begin writing about it because I learned so much in such a short period of time. And then there’s the fact that I took over 1400 pictures!  Don’t worry, I won’t make you look at them all. . .at once. LOL

My opportunity to go to Israel came through my husband’s little brother, Jack. His children attend a Christian Academy. Their school plans a trip to Israel every year for their senior class, and their families. When they called to invite me to go along, my excitement couldn’t be contained. It was like a dream come true!  Going with the Jones family was like having the heart of my husband along with me. It was priceless.

I’m going to write several blogs about my trip. I hope you will come along on the journey. Please feel free to ask questions – and please add your own knowledge to the discussion. Some of you have also journeyed to the Holy Land, and I would love to hear from you and see your pictures! (In case you missed my first blog about Israel, I wrote about my experience in Bethlehem in a recent blog called Swaddling Clothes.)

For this week’s blog, I want to begin with the Temple Mount. You may know that the temple itself no longer exists. Let me share a little of the history of the Temple of God.

Jewish Temple History

King Solomon built an amazing, elaborate temple for God Almighty in the tenth century BC. The process took thousands of people and 7 years to build. He quarried the stone with the help of 80,000 stonecutters. Then he imported cedar and pine to line the interior walls. Fine artisans carved cherubim, palm trees and flowers on the olive wood doors, and overlaid them with gold. You can find the detailed descriptions in the Bible in I Kings 5-8.

For many years, the Israelites worshiped the Lord at their temple in Jerusalem. They didn’t always obey His teachings, however. God sent messages to the people through prophets, warning them to return to their God, but the people didn’t listen. So, after many years of warnings, the unthinkable happened. The Babylonians conquered Israel, destroyed the temple and deported the people in 586 BC.

God always makes a way for His people when they return to Him in repentance. Just as God promised, the people returned from captivity and rebuilt both Jerusalem and its walls. (See Ezra and Nehemiah to read the stories.) Finally, 70 years after the temple was destroyed, a new temple stood in its place in 515 BC.

Again, the years went by. Wars plagued the people of Israel, and the people continued to fight to defend their land and their temple. Sometimes other nations desecrated the temple and forced the people to worship other gods. Finally, during the time of Judas Maccabees, the temple was rededicated to serve God in 165 BC.

In the days of Jesus, King Herod renovated the temple and massively expanded the courtyard around it. But the glory of those days didn’t last long. The Romans destroyed the temple in 70 AD. The courtyard still exists.

Western Wall
Western Wall of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem.

The hill where the Temple once stood is known as the Temple Mount. The Western Wall of the Temple Mount is perhaps the most recognized place in Jerusalem for the Jew. In this special place, the Jews come to pray.

Several things greatly affected me in this place.

It touched me to watch them pray with tears streaming down their faces. I felt as if I was invading their privacy with the Lord to be in this place. (For this reason, I did not photograph them.) And yet, they came, unashamed of their tears, or of the fact that there would be an audience.

                  Unashamed of their devotion to God.

Another thing got my attention. They hold God in such high esteem that they backed away from the wall, determined to not turn their backs on His presence.

Notice the layers of stonework, changing each time it was rebuilt.

Fully aware of God’s majesty and power.

The wall itself intrigued me. It’s magnitude alone is impressive, standing at 105 feet high. This picture shows only 62 feet, with the remaining 43 feet of wall being underground! I wondered how the laborers stacked stones so huge without modern day equipment. But even more than that, I stood amazed at the evidence of repeated rebuilding. Different types of stones made the different phases obvious. No matter how many times the walls were torn down, they were rebuilt again.

                    Determined to try again.

Heartache

This place is holy. This wall is the place where Jews can come to worship for now, but they long to rebuild their temple and have a special place for God’s presence. In their temple, that place was called the Holy of Holies. There the High Priest met with God once a year in order to receive forgiveness for the nation’s sins.

I’m so grateful for God’s continued offer of forgiveness for everyone, including me. As I watched all of the people around me, of every nation, race and creed, my heart ached for everyone to know the power of God’s love and the joy of His forgiveness through His Son, Jesus Christ.

May I be as courageous as my Jewish friends – unashamed of my devotion to God, fully aware of His majesty and power, and determined to try again to share the good news of forgiveness. I believe Jesus is the hope for all nations. I’d love to tell you about Him.

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Swaddling Clothes

There’s nothing sweeter than a tiny baby wrapped in swaddling clothes, nestled in my arms. When I close my eyes and imagine that moment when Joseph placed Jesus into Mary’s arms, I see her face relax, and a gentle smile grace her lips. It no longer mattered that they traveled all day on a donkey, or that there was no room in a comfortable house to give birth, or that there were sheep over in the corner watching . . .

Or maybe the sheep were still with their shepherds out in the field, where suddenly, the dark night lit up with the light of an angel!

Terror!

“And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.”  (Luke 2:10-12)

I find it difficult to memorize anything, and yet, this beautiful story slips easily off my tongue. Mom and Dad read it to me long before I could read it for myself. I can close my eyes and see the pictures in the children’s Bible book I loved and read often. Every year, before opening our Christmas presents, we read the true Christmas story together.

When I came to understand Jesus’ love for me, the story became even more precious. It’s hard to comprehend – the Creator of the universe wrapped in swaddling clothes in the arms of a young momma. The plan was simple, and yet unbelievably sacrificial. He left heaven and became one of us, so that He could offer us forgiveness for our sins. Jesus planned to pay the penalty for our sins himself, so we wouldn’t have to be separated from God in eternity. He chose to die in my place.

My heart overflows with gratefulness.

These skies filled with the words, “You will find the baby wrapped in swaddling clothes.”
Modern day Bethlehem in the distance.
Great Joy!

This year, the story came to life for me in a new way as I stood on a hill overlooking the shepherd’s fields in Bethlehem. My eyes opened wide as I imagined the air filling with angelic light. “Fear not, for behold I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people.” (Luke 2:10) I could recite the words with our Jewish guide as he spoke.

I listened, intrigued, as our guide described the lives of the shepherds of Bethlehem. They would quarry rock from the ground, or the hillside, in order to make a rock tower. Standing on this tower, they could watch their sheep and protect them from harm. The place where they dug out the rock created a cave. There they could gather their sheep in storms, or guard them from predators.

Theirs was considered a lowly job, yet a very important one. Each year, the Jewish Passover festival required the availability of many lambs. Each family was to bring a lamb to offer God as a sacrifice for their sins. Without a doubt, this provided a livelihood for the shepherds of Bethlehem, which lay only 5 miles from Jerusalem.

But the Passover lambs were to be perfect, without blemish.

Perfect Lamb

As I looked at the rocky terrain, the guide explained how easily the lambs could trip, fall, or wound themselves on the jagged rocks. So, the shepherds often wrapped the lambs in cloths to keep them from hurting themselves. The word we translate “swaddling clothes” is the word used specifically for the cloths used to wrap a Passover lamb – or to wrap a dead body. They never used that particular word to describe cloths to wrap a baby.

I gasped.

“Unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior . . . You will find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.”

The message told the shepherds where to find the baby. He would be in a shepherd’s cave, wrapped in the cloths of a Passover lamb, laying in the feeding trough. Maybe he was even in their cave – but certainly they knew the shepherds in the area, and where they lived. It would not have been difficult to find.

But the words also told them the entire plan. This baby would replace the Passover Lamb. The Saviour would pay the penalty of our sins, once for all.

It’s little wonder that Mary pondered these things in her heart. The angel told her that God would give Jesus the throne of David, and that His kingdom will not end. And yet, here is her baby, wrapped like a Passover Lamb, visited by the shepherds. Mary, did you know the price He would pay?

This year, as you celebrate Christmas, remember this is only the beginning of the most amazing story of love ever lived. The baby wrapped in swaddling clothes became your sacrificial lamb.

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Presence or Presents

Two words have been on my mind lately: Presence and Presents.

Only 35 days left!

Of course, I’m thinking about Christmas. It’s time to buy presents. I always stress over finding just the right thing for each person. As nieces and nephews get older, I find it particularly difficult to come up with something creative. They don’t mind simply receiving money, of course, but that takes the fun out of it.

On the Webb side of the family, we have a tradition. My adult nieces and nephews delight in the simple gift of chocolate chip cookies. It reminds them of Grandma Webb (my mom), who made the best cookies in the country, of any kind.

It’s my honor to give these presents, because I miss her presence.

Christmas brings a longing in my heart. I love to celebrate with each of my families here on earth, but I can’t wait to be in the presence of God with my heavenly family. One by one we will each arrive for the greatest of family reunions – together in the presence of God.

Thinking about it gets me to daydreaming. Which isn’t such a bad thing. It gives my mind a break from all of the lists of things which need to be done. It’s been a fabulous year, but it’s been so busy I’ve hardly been able to keep up. I simply prepared for the next thing on the calendar. If I looked forward any further, I got overwhelmed.

But sometimes I had no choice. When the speaking calendar required me to be gone for four consecutive weeks and prepare for 3 retreats and 7 speaking events during that month, I had no idea how I could possibly do it. (You wondered why I’m blogging less? lol)

That’s when I started pondering presence.

Have you ever found yourself looking into the face of a friend and realizing that they are expecting an answer to a question you didn’t hear? Yeah, I sure have. Have you ever realized you are looking at someone and they are talking, but your head can’t stay present where you are because there’s so much on your mind? Yeah, me too.

It’s so easy to fall into the trap. I’m afraid I’ll forget things, so I rehearse them over and over in my mind. Or I’m struggling to figure out how to accomplish what’s left to be done before the next event or trip. Technology keeps me continually interrupted, so I can’t finish one thing before a beep commands my attention. We all know how frustrating it is to try to have a conversation with someone who keeps looking at their phone, and yet sometimes, I find that person to be me!

My prayer became, “Lord, help me be present where I am. I don’t want to miss what you are doing ‘here,’ because my mind is ‘there’.”

It made all the difference. My stress level reduced. I enjoyed the traveling, the adventure, and the individual people in front of me. I became more aware of God’s presence, and I saw His hand at work. He made sure I didn’t forget anything – or made a way when I did.

Oh, I’ll never stop daydreaming of the day I’ll enjoy the presence of God and my heavenly family, and I’ll probably always have a list of things to do. But for now, I’ll seek the presence of God on earth, and strive to keep my mind focused on the person in front of me.

This season disconnect from your list and your phone. Be present where you are. Everyone deserves your full attention. Maybe it’s the best gift we can give our families – all year long.

Not presents. Presence.

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Whose Side Are You On?

Whose side are you on?

Does it matter? The answer depends on the topic! Whether you are thinking about the next football game, the next election issue, or the last family argument, makes a huge difference in the significance of the question.

Several weeks ago, I began reading through the Bible again, following J’s Bible Reading Plan. It’s been good to get back to reading out of obedience, not just out of preparation for a Bible study or for speaking. It gives God the chance to give me new things to ponder.

This morning, I read from Joshua 5-6. There Joshua asked the question: Whose side are you on?

Here’s the background:

God used Moses to rescue the people of Israel from Egyptian slavery over forty years earlier. He promised the people a land of freedom and plenty if they would obey Him. They said they would, but they did not. As a result, God didn’t let them come to the promised land until all of the adults who refused to be obedient had died.

Now, those who were children in Egypt are adults. Their new leader, Joshua, has proven himself to be full of faith and courage. Once again, the huge group of people began to travel toward the promised land. When they reached the Jordan River, the water stopped flowing and the people crossed on dry ground. It was just like they remembered it as children! The Red Sea did the same thing when they left Egypt. Oh, some of them had only heard about it, since they were born later. But now they saw it with their own eyes.

So, when Joshua asked them to do something radical, they trusted his words from God. All of the men were circumcised on the same day in obedience to the Lord. It was a sign of their total loyalty to their God.

While the army rested and healed, Joshua stood alone at the edge of the promised land. Taking possession of the land would be no small task. It required great faith and dedicated obedience. I have no doubt that he was praying for guidance for the battles ahead. His heavy responsibility to lead must have overwhelmed him. Perhaps he was remembering the story Moses told him about his own calling. I can imagine Joshua hoping for his instructions from God to be as clear and concrete as it was for Moses at the burning bush (Exodus 3).

He needed to hear from God.

Suddenly, He saw a man standing in front of him with a drawn sword. I’m sure he went into fight mode. Having no idea if he was facing friend or foe, Joshua responded,

“Are you for us or for our enemies?”

“Neither,” he replied, “but as commander of the army of the Lord, I have now come.” Joshua fell facedown to the ground in reverence and asked him, “What message does my Lord have for his servant?” The commander of the Lord’s army replied, “Take off your sandals for the place where you are standing is holy.” And Joshua did so.  Joshua 5:14-15

Puzzled, I pondered this passage awhile.

Clearly, this is the Lord meeting with Joshua. You can see that in Joshua’s humble reaction as he falls to his face before Him. You can also hear it in the Lord’s repetition of the same words He said to Moses at the burning bush. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” (Exodus 3:5) And you can see it in the following verses as the Lord gives Joshua clear and concrete instructions for the battle at Jericho, in direct answer to the prayers of his heart.

But why does the Lord say he is not on their side? (Joshua asked, “Are you for us or for our enemies? God said, “Neither.”)

I had to find some commentaries to help me on this one. I like to go to www.biblehub.com for help on the original language and to read other’s thoughts on the passage when I’m stuck.

There’s a simple answer.

I don’t know why I missed it.

The question was not: Is God on the Israelite’s side? No, the question was: Are they on God’s side? This is the Lord’s battle, not theirs. The people presently in the land are God’s enemies, not theirs. It’s His battle to fight. They are simply to obey. He will defeat His own enemies, and in doing so, keep His promise to the Israelites to give them the land. If they will simply obey.

Wow. No wonder the walls of Jericho simply fell down. They had no defense against God.

That changes my perspective on lots of things. It’s easy to feel like God is not on my side when things are going wrong in my eyes. And it’s easy to ask God to bless the things I’m doing in my own effort to serve Him. But those feelings and questions are focused on me instead of focused on God.

He’s not on my side. That makes me in charge.

He is the commander. I’m on His side.

Whose side are you on? Making that choice changes everything.

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Seashells

I’ve never searched for seashells in a place where both the ocean and the mountains were in front of me!

Sitting cross-legged on the beach, I searched through broken seashells for a treasure. I took a long, deep breath as my new friend and I talked and laughed in the afternoon sun. This flatland Kansas girl hardly knew what to do with the beauty of the mountains and ocean in front of me. From where I sat, I could look across the ocean bay to see the Olympic Mountains further southwest of me.

My body and soul soaked up the sunshine and rest.

The opportunity to share my story brought me here to Northwest Washington. And, as usual, enabled me to hear other women’s stories. The peacefulness of an afternoon on the beach afforded us the time to really talk – and the quiet space to hear God’s voice.

 

What fun to discover these seashell treasures among the rocks!

We found several treasures on the beach. Intact seashells of all sorts and sizes. But when we each discovered a tiny, perfect seashell buried in the broken ones, it hit us.

This is how we need to look at life.

It’s easy to see the brokenness. All around us, every day, we see sorrowful people, each wounded by difficult circumstances or the selfish choices of humanity. Often, I can see in their faces that it has become so overwhelming, they have become convinced that nothing is good.

Hope can get buried in the broken pieces.

But if we look, really look – even dig for it –

we can see the beauty of God in the middle of it all. If we ask for eyes to see. . .

The little things. The beautiful things. The seashells.

This tiny seashell is both beautiful and perfectly formed.

So, at the end of the day, I can make a mental list of all the brokenness I’ve seen or experienced today – or a mental list of the one thing of beauty I saw – no matter how small. And suddenly, my whole perspective changes.

God is always at work around us, but sometimes I lose focus on what He’s doing because I’m so focused on what I want Him to be doing. Do you ever do that? My prayer list is long, and sometimes I get discouraged in asking again for the things where I haven’t seen any change in a long time. But that doesn’t mean He’s not at work below the surface, bringing order out of chaos, and healing out of brokenness.

That’s where my analogy with the seashells breaks down.

Because the shells we found were intact. They survived the storm, the waves, and the crashing against the rocks. What about the broken ones? You may be thinking, “This is all fine for you. Maybe you survived intact, but I didn’t. I’m just a pile of broken pieces.”

God holds all your broken pieces.

I didn’t survive intact.
But I know the miracle of being put back together.

Our God holds all your broken pieces. He hasn’t lost a single one. And what’s more, He desires to put you back together. Without a doubt, you will be different than you were before, but if you trust Him, He will make you whole again.

Then, you will become a beautiful seashell treasure for others to find. When they do, you can tell your story of finding a God powerful and loving enough to put you back together.

And maybe, just maybe, they will trust Him with their broken pieces too.

 

 

If you would like to know more about how God can put your life together, I’d love to hear from you. Contact me through my website.  Or, read my story, Song of a Wounded Heart, available at your favorite bookstore.

 

 

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Red Carpet Jitters

Nothing has prepared me for this.

I’m just a country girl, with roots in the wheat field. The big city is not my comfort zone – nor is a Red Carpet Event. And yet, that’s where I find myself this week. My publishing company brings together their newly released authors each quarter to celebrate the release of their new books. The books then appear in their new catalog, and hopefully bookstores across the country will pick up the books for their shelves.

Each of us will have our few minutes of glory on the red carpet, telling the world about the book in our hands.

Ski Kansas T-Shirt or Red Carpet Glitter?

I’ve been preparing myself for it – and yet trying to ignore the fact that it was coming. Then suddenly, the plane ticket declared it was time to go without regard to my feelings about it. I packed the suitcase with glam and glitter – and with one of my favorite fun Kansas t-shirts. Which shall I wear? LOL

When I got to the airport, I received an unexpected phone call from a friend. She asked me one question: Which one of your family members would have enjoyed the red carpet?

Ah, Janessa would have. In fact, she wanted to be a recording artist. Maybe one day I would have attended a red carpet day for her!

The image helped tremendously. I shall don my glitter tomorrow and walk this red carpet thinking about my girl, picturing her smile from heaven, and wishing she was here to fix my hair. Then I’ll come back to my motel room and put on my comfy t-shirt and be me. LOL

Register for the Event

If you would like to watch the event live from Nashville, register here. Registering will also qualify you to receive some giveaways from the authors. The instructions will be emailed to you from Morgan James Publishing after the event.

Enter the Drawing

With this event, I will be hosting a drawing for an autographed copy of my book. To register for the drawing, sign up for my newsletter (scroll to the bottom of the page) and message me that you have watched the Red Carpet Facebook Event. The event will be live at 2:00 p.m. Central time, but will be recorded. Both count for the drawing!

The post Red Carpet Jitters appeared first on Lora Jones Ministries.

10 Ways to Help a Grieving Mom

How can I help?

Our greatest help comes from Jesus Christ.

A woman sat beside the casket of her son. Her eyes told the story of her heart. Pools of sorrow reflected in her tired face. The weight of loss settled on her shoulders, making it difficult to stand up straight. She tried to talk to everyone, but it took everything she had to just be there. “How can we help her?” people whispered to each other.

“If you need anything, just let me know.” The sincere statement came from a friend, but I am fairly certain the grieving mom will never say what she needs. Why? Because she doesn’t have any idea what could possibly make her feel better.

Over the last several years, as I speak at women’s retreats and church services, I’m often asked the same question. “What did people do for you that really helped?”

Today, I’m going to attempt to answer that question. Here are ten ways to help a grieving mom.

1) Tell her a story.

Nothing brings more joy to my heart than to hear a story about my children. This has not lessened as time has gone by. In fact, I would say it has even increased. I love to know people still remember them and think about them.

Write down the story so it can be re-read over and over or tucked in a scrapbook. It doesn’t have to be pretty or decorated, unless that fits your personality. The story is what matters.

2) Talk about your children and let her respond with a story of her own.

After the accident, people would start to talk about something their child said or did and then they would look at me and hang their head and apologize. I honestly wanted to hear their story. It made me feel like I could still be a part of life. My own life felt empty, so at least I could listen in to theirs.

Besides that, imagine what it’s like when no one around you knows what to say. The silence becomes deafening and awkward.

It was a long time before I wanted to add to the conversation myself. But when I finally did respond with a story of my own children, the room went silent again. That frustrated me. I wanted to be able to talk about them without feeling all the oxygen leave the room. If she has the courage to talk about them, join the conversation. Add to the memory, if you can, or just enjoy hearing about it from her heart.

3) Send her notes.

A forward on Facebook can be meaningful or funny, but nothing warms my heart like a personal message. Text, message or an old-fashioned card – any method works fine. It doesn’t have to be serious. The fact that you sent it means you care, and that’s what matters.

Don’t worry if she doesn’t respond. It may still be too early for her to have any words at all. Be patient and consistent.

4) Remember the dates.

The calendar on your phone is a helpful tool. Put an event in your phone for your friend’s special memory dates. The birthday of her son/daughter and the anniversary of his/her death will be meaningful days to remember. Check on her on those days. Invite her to dinner or a movie. Ask her if she would like to do something special. Notice if she posts something in memory of her child on Facebook and respond to it if she does. Everyone handles these days in their own ways. She may want to be alone, or she may want to be with friends.

I particularly love to talk with my children’s friends on those days. It’s a special connection that helps me feel my children’s love through their friends. I even took a trip near my daughter’s 25th birthday to visit several of her friends. I loved every minute of it.  This year, my son would have turned 25. Soon, I will go see his best friend and meet his new baby, named after my son.

Some Dreams Come True

Me cutting flowers in my Momma’s flower garden. It was a beautiful place to dream big dreams.

When I was a child, I thought all my dreams would come true. My life was simple and carefree. My dreams were sweet. I snuggled baby kittens, played under the trees in the backyard, and rode in the back of the pickup while my dad checked the cows. In the summers, I helped pick strawberries and snap green beans. Mom taught me how to bake bread and Dad taught me how to find the grains in a head of wheat by rubbing it between the palms of my hands.

When I got old enough, the big yellow school bus picked me up for school in my front yard. The neighborhood children and I talked and laughed on the long rides to school. Sometimes the bus driver even planned parties for us “country kids” after the “city kids” were all dropped off in town. Occasionally, a friend would ride the bus home with me so she could play for the evening or spend the night on the farm.

The most stressful part of life came when Dad said it was time to butcher a few hens. I hated watching them flop around the yard! I can still smell the stink as I learned to dip them in hot water before pulling out their wet feathers. Then Mom and I would cut them up, disposing of the inedible inside parts. Occasionally, we would find an egg inside with a soft shell. That always fascinated me. It was hard, smelly work, but very worth the effort – because my oh my, I loved my Mom’s fried chicken.

Laying on my back in the grass with my belly full, I dreamed of the future. I wanted to marry and have children – give my own family the peaceful, happy life Mom and Dad gave me.

My dream came true.

Of course, life wasn’t exactly like I envisioned it. My marriage didn’t take me to life on the farm like it did for my Momma. Instead, God called my husband, J. L., to be a pastor. So, our lives centered around the church where I loved being a pastor’s wife.

But being a Mom exceeded my dreams.

Their snuggles warmed my soul better than any kitten. I beamed with joy as I heard them say their first words and watched their first steps. I laughed until I cried at their antics, and I cried real tears when they got hurt. My heart swelled with pride as they succeeded in school. I loved it when their friends walked home with them to spend the night. Their laughter kept me awake, but it made me smile.

It was harder than I thought it would be. Their little minds were so impressionable, and their little personalities so much like mine. I discovered my own weaknesses in them and struggled to help them overcome those same faults. Sometimes storms of all kinds brought nightmares instead of dreams. Together we fought to protect our children from the meanness of life.

We read books together every night, made tents out of blankets in the living room and played in the park down the street. We had pet bunnies to snuggle. They rode on the back of the motorcycle with their Dad for an adventure. I taught them how to bake cookies and their Dad taught them how to fish. We played cards and board games together and took lots of family vacations.

Nothing brought me greater joy than watching them believe in God or listening to them talk about Him.

Laying on my back on the trampoline (because I never could jump on the thing lol), I dreamed of the future with them. What would they do, who would they marry, what memories would they form with their children?

This time, the dream didn’t come true.

I buried my children and my husband on the same day in November 2004.

Occasionally, people ask me what I think they would have been – what career would they have taken, would they have children by now? I think about it sometimes. Janessa would have turned 29 in October, and Jayden just turned 26. Sometimes I see a little child that reminds me of one of them and I imagine what their children would have looked like.

My “senior pictures” were painted by Lovita Irby. You can find her work at Bluebonnet Art Gallery in De Soto, TX. Picture used with permission.

An artist friend of mine painted “senior pictures” for me of my children so I could imagine what they might have looked like as they graduated from high school. I love them. Their portraits are displayed over my piano in my living room.

But honestly, mostly I imagine what their life is like now – in the place where they are – in heaven. I must dream about it because I haven’t seen it for myself. But it’s real, not “what if.” It gives me a sense of hope.

Perhaps Janessa is snuggling a newborn who just arrived, singing a soft lullaby as she falls asleep in her arms. Jayden may be teaching a group of boys how to be goalie of the heavenly soccer team. J. L. surely must be building something – maybe he’s working on the house he always said he would build for me someday.

I don’t know if any of those things happen in heaven, but this I know: They are praising their God in a place without tears, pain or sorrow of any kind. (Revelation 21:4) As soon as they believed, Jesus began preparing the place for them, just like He’s preparing a place for me. (John 14:1-6) The way to heaven is simple: confession of sin, and confession of faith. (I John 1:9, Romans 10:9-10) But it’s a life long journey where. . .

. . . the reality will far outweigh my dreams.

 

If you would like to read more of my story, Song of a Wounded Heart releases this month. You can find it at your favorite online bookstore.

Follow this link to find it on Barnes & Noble.

The post Some Dreams Come True appeared first on Lora Jones Ministries.