Lori Stanley Roeleveld's Blog, page 35

The Person God Wants You to Avoid

It was my first times being “called into the pastor’s office.”

I didn’t like it. I’d spent the night before wondering what type of complaint about my Bible study had instigated my requested appearance. The ensuing conversation didn’t exactly clear things up.

Me (trying to appear open rather than defensive, hoping that by some infusion of the Holy Spirit I’d actually be open and not defensive.): “So, you’ve received a complaint about my Bible study on Revelation?”

The pastor smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure we can clear it up right here.”

I exhaled a little. “What’s the nature of the complaint?”

“Well, a couple participants don’t like that you’re asking people to apply the scriptures to their lives. They said you’re not just covering the material; you’re asking people how it might change the way they live.”

I experienced a mild disorientation. “And the problem with that is . . ?”

“Oh, we don’t do that here.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Expect people to change the way they live because of our Bible studies. We find that more people attend if we keep them light, informational, and focused on the Bible as ancient literature.”

“Ancient literature?”

“That’s right. Our congregation is sophisticated and highly educated. In fact, I’ve been concerned that you aren’t offering a broader perspective on Revelation.”

“A broader perspective?”

The pastor slid a large, shiny book toward me. “Oh, yes. I’m hoping you’ll incorporate the cutting edge theory of this biblical scholar.”

I scanned the back cover. “What is his unique perspective?”

The pastor beamed. “It’s fascinating. He believes that the apostle John wrote Revelation during a schizophrenic break.”

“You want me to introduce the concept that the book of Revelation was a schizotypal hallucination?”

“Yes! Isn’t that intriguing? I knew you’d understand!”

I didn’t. Not then.

I’m getting the picture now, though.

This conversation occurred over a decade ago. I left that church (a mainstream denomination) not long after this enlightening conversation, but not before experiencing my first giant dose of aggressive spiritual license. Proponents of the notion that every person’s perspective on faith is to be accepted and respected, except the person whose experience includes absolutes or any sense that people following God are called to transformation (unless they want to be transformed and only in the manner they envision being transformed.)

These people talk about Jesus. Sing about Jesus. Read words about Jesus. Seem wholly enthusiastic about Jesus. They just don’t think Jesus has any relevance to their daily lives, and He certainly has no power to influence their character, decisions, or actions.

Transformation deniers.

But, they believe He does tell a great story! They think it’s good for kids, of course, to hear about Jesus and learn to be nice, to share, and to sit quietly for the length of a service.

Good people encourage good works in others, and Jesus did kind things like heal people, forgive hookers, and feed people. In their translation of reality, Jesus made people feel good and they like that – that feeling good thing.

They’re very tolerant except they won’t tolerate anyone making someone feel bad. During one of the Bible studies, one young woman confessed she struggled with the concept of hell.

“What,” I asked, “do you imagine happens to people who refuse to accept Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross for their sins?”

She considered it for a moment before brightening with the answer, “I think that God makes them feel really bad for the things they’ve done.”

“If that’s the case, why did Jesus endure the suffering of the cross?” I asked.

She shrugged. “He was just nice like that.”

We live in the days of the people mentioned in 2 Timothy 3:5. People “having the appearance of godliness, but denying its power. Avoid such people.”

I think it’s wisdom to appreciate that we live at risk of becoming “those people,” too.  We’re surrounded by rhetoric that sounds godly, that invokes the name of Jesus, that has the appearance of compassion. But, too often, it’s based on the type of good feeling and intention humanity can muster with its own effort.

Humans can certainly manufacture a measure of love and compassion, but it’s more akin to “Christmas spirit” than to the deep, abiding love available in Jesus. It’s a seasonal version of Jesus’ love and tends to wither in the face of winter’s cold.

You can bury Jesus’ love deep in a stone, cold tomb without killing it or holding it down.

His presence in our lives, however, inspires an effective godliness. It’s a godliness that requires spiritual growth, character change, acknowledgement of and repentance from sin. That’s sin that God determines, not the sin of making someone else “feel bad.”

It’s an ever-present temptation, no matter how much we’ve grown or changed, to imagine there are character weaknesses, sin habits, or personal failings that can’t be changed by applying the biblical truth and growing in Christ. It’s especially tempting when we’re faced with a stubborn problem we’ve still failed to consistently conquer.

But, the truth doesn’t change. We can, though. We can grow to be more and more like Jesus every day of our lives until glory. Our goal isn’t to “look” more like Christ, but to be more like Christ. Our transformed lives testify to the power of the gospel we preach.

We should avoid those who hold to a form of godliness, but deny its power. We should also avoid being joining them, those transformation deniers.

Press on, loved ones. Believe the Holy Spirit. As you press into Christ, it will be harder and harder to avoid the transformative truth.

The Person God Wants You to Avoid https://t.co/kCA8FLmZBa surviving dangerous times #Jesus #transformationdeniers #spirituality

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) April 28, 2017

How Even Fishers of Men May Be Missing the Boat

For fishers of men, the American church is at great risk of missing the boat.

We know our calling is to make disciples. We’re bursting with the truth of Christ. It’s too good, too powerful, too transformative to keep locked inside. We’re as compelled from within as commanded from without to want others to experience freedom in Jesus.

But we’re myopic about who we target with our message. We’re fixated on reaching young souls. Young people are a vital part of our ministry, but not the entire scope and sequence.

It’s the heart of Jesus to love children and young people, but in the eyes of an eternal God, we’re all about a minute old. I don’t believe He makes as much distinction between reaching twenty-somethings and reaching octogenarians as we do.

Too many of us are operating from a false matrix that the church survives and thrives on a steady influx of youth. Untrue. This is “wisdom” from the enemy that keeps us focused on one segment of the world leaving us with pitiful few resources to reach the rest.

The lifeblood of the church is Jesus Christ. The future of the church is Jesus Christ. The church grows, expands, and passes onto the next generation through Jesus Christ. In HIM all things hold together, not in young families.

It’s understandable we think this way because we’ve lived so long with this understanding. Peter, James, and John knew how to fish. It’s what they’d done all their lives. They’d made their living at it. But, one day, their nets repeatedly came up empty. What if, like them, it’s time for us to drop our nets off the other side of the boat?

When the Pharisees demanded that Jesus rebuke His followers for singing His praise, Jesus responded that if they were silent, the rocks and stones would cry out. When the king in Jesus’ parable invited guests to a feast and they refused to come, He sent out the invitation to others.

We’re living in a time when many small churches are asking where the young have gone. Of course, many of us should learn to communicate with other generations, but what if that isn’t the whole message here?

Isn’t the kingdom of Jesus Christ greater than any one generation. Aren’t people over fifty, logistically closer to meeting their maker than those under twenty? Could it be that those of us who struggle to communicate with the young, may be perfectly adept at speaking with our peers? Jesus isn’t calling only the young to Himself. He calls every soul.

The modern church expends energy and resources relentlessly spinning over the “problem of reaching young families” as if the call to discipleship was only for those under thirty. Of course, we should be teaching children, reaching out to teens, and working to engage twenty-somethings. The college years are a prime time to make spiritual life decisions.

But, does the human soul have a limited window for conversion? Does the soul callous over at thirty so as to make it unreachable by the gospel for the following decades? It may be harder, sure, but the church is called to hard things.

Can these old bones rise? You know, Lord. Surely, if God could raise Lazarus from the tomb, He can bring people in their seventies into a relationship with Christ.

I’m fifty-six now and, believe me, my peers ask plenty of soulful questions. We’re grappling with our own mortality as we lose our parents, launch our children, and adjust to changes in our own transitioning bodies. We’re living longer and that means we’re facing a longer period of wondering why we’re on this earth, of living with the consequences of our early choices, of wondering about life’s meaning.

We may be the first generation of the church to see such an expansive gray-haired field ready to harvest. Are we ignoring souls in winter because we’re so accustomed to operating in spring?

What if young people witnessed transformation and revival in the older generation? What if they saw their parents and grandparents abandon life-long habits of sin and become filled with a passion for Christ instead?

What if they saw a hardened older generation suddenly open to love, sacrifice, patience, kindness, wisdom, and mercy? Do you suppose they may grow curious as to what was up in the church of Christ?

I had a widow friend who was in her seventies. Honestly, the dating relationships she was navigating were so similar to the teens with whom I worked, I thought to bring her in as a guest speaker. It was powerful for them to realize these issues don’t go away.

Whereas the youngest generation has been taken captive by countless distractions, the oldest generation is longing for company, for listening ears, and for something certain in the midst of cataclysmic social change. They long to know they are still visible, still valuable, still vital. How powerful would it be to bring them the news that Jesus sees them, values them, and still has a plan for them?

The Bible teems with stories of Biblical heroes who spent years of their lives doing everyday things before God pressed them into service. Isn’t it possible this might resonate with people wondering if their days of adventure are over by the time they reach seventy-five?

I believe it’s time to explore our assumptions about outreach. Could we be missing a vital part of God’s kingdom simply because it’s covered with snow?

What are your thoughts on this? To me, the possibilities for serving people fifty and older and incorporating their unique energy, talents, and perspective into the church are fascinating.

Might there not be some distracted grandchildren who suddenly grow curious when Jesus sets a fire in an eighty-something heart? And aren’t we all children compared to our Eternal Father, and so doesn’t He long for us all to come to His great heart, even those of us who are wrinkled and bent with age?

Who out there is ready to drop net?

How Even Fishers of Men May Miss the Boat https://t.co/fOtRcQsB5g is it time to outreach an older generation? #Jesus #seniors #evangelism

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) April 25, 2017

When Your Mom Burns Your Blankie – How to Be Fire-Proof in a Burning World

It’s not usually the big things that knock you on your keister, is it?

You brace for the big stuff. You hunker down or grab hold when a major turbulence appears on your radar. It’s not always pretty, but you lock down and you survive.

Or, at least, you think you have.

Working with families facing hardship over twenty plus years, I’ve encountered some terrible stories of abuse and neglect. In this field, you prepare for those. You steel yourself.

You find a place to put those types of horror stories and you move on, because you’re one of those helpers Mr. Rogers mentions that kids should try to spot in a crisis. It’s easier to spot you if you’re standing up, not huddled in a corner crying.

One little boy, though, bobs in the dark ocean of my memories and resurfaces at odd times. It’s been many, many years. He’s grown by now, but in my mind, he’ll always be a little boy. One little boy and his blankie.

He was a bubbly toddler in a troubled home. I’ll spare you the details. Over multiple weeks of visits, I loved that when I arrived, he’d climb beside me onto the couch with his blanket.

This blanket had a “sweet spot.” One corner that he loved to rub between his thumb and his index finger. After several visits, he decided I needed a sweet spot of my own. He dubbed me “my safety lady,” because whenever I arrived, the adults and I would discuss what was safe and what wasn’t.

So, little guy designated another corner just for me. There we’d sit as I discussed scary grown up things with the adults in his world, him rubbing one corner and me rubbing mine.

I didn’t realize how that tiny square of flannel was keeping me calm, too. Until the day, it was gone.

The family called me for an emergency meeting. Life was unraveling. The adults weren’t holding things together. I arrived before the other helping grown-ups, and little guy climbed up beside me on the couch, but he didn’t sit.

Instead, kneeling, he cupped his hands over my ear and whispered, “No one’s being safe, safety lady. Help me.”

I asked him to get his blankie while I talked with the grownups. He shook his head letting huge tears fell down his chubby cheeks.

He pointed at one grownup. “She cut it to pieces.”

I looked at the offending adult who crossed her arms and stared at little guy in defiance. “That’s right, go ahead and tell her. I cut his stupid blanket into little pieces and made him watch while I burned it.”

Why this horrified beyond the multitude of other horrific details that emerged that day is beyond me, but it did. “Why would you do that? He’s just a little guy, and it was just a blankie.”

“He’s old enough to learn not to be a baby and cry just because people are fighting. He’s old enough to learn that rubbing a stupid blanket doesn’t make people stick around and love you. He’s old enough to learn not to hold onto anything because at some point someone rips it away and you’re left with nothing. I did him a favor burning that stupid thing. I taught him a life lesson, that’s what I did.”

As worse details of life for this little guy emerged, more helpers arrived and he was, indeed, whisked away to safety. As I called to report in to my boss, I managed to state the numerous terrible details, but when she asked, “Is there anything else?”, I lost my voice.

“Hey, are you okay?”

I sniffled into my cell phone, feeling like a fool as I sat in my car on a sunny day with tears flowing. “They cut up his stupid blankie. I mean, he’s safe now, but seriously, they cut up a little kid’s blankie.”

God designed us with opposable thumbs, because He knew we’d need to hold on to things sometimes. It’s not wrong to need something to hold onto. It’s part of being human. God rejects our sin, not our humanity.

It’s important what we choose to hold.

Some hold fast to the easy comfort of food, alcohol, cigarettes, or drugs. Others find their sweet spot on the almighty dollar and the trappings of wealth. Some hold onto any human they can find on any given night, to weigh them down in life’s storm. Others hold onto illusions and lies like parched souls crawling toward a mirage in the desert.

A few will hold onto Truth. And yes, it does exist in the person of Jesus.

A few will discover the sweet spot of life when they lay hold of a splintery wooden cross or when they behold a folded empty grave cloth in an abandoned tomb.

Their thumbs and forefingers turn the pages of a book or slide the screens of a tablet holding ancient, eternal truth that will withstand any battle. No sword can slice it up. No fire can consume it. No tears will dissolve it. And if it comes under assault, it will not fail.

He is our safety. We have a Helper we can call. We have something, someone, we can hold onto, and He will remain steadfast and true.

We are bombarded, in these times, with all manner of warfare, deceptive arguments, and pressure to abandon the truth. Be aware that it’s not always the big assault that knocks you on your keister. It’s often just the unkind remark, the casual cruelty, or the betraying kiss that sends you sprawling over the enemy’s trip wire.

As you fall, he tries to wrest Truth from your hands, but it’s impervious to His weapons. Even when we lose our grip, Jesus never loses His on us. No one will ever snatch us from His hands.

So, hold on, loved ones. He’s coming. Spend more time in the Truth than you spend reading or hearing the lies. Remind yourself and others of the truth you know. Live truth in ways great and small.

Hold on. Hold on to the truth and speak it, because little empty-handed boys grow into hurting men, searching for something true they can hold.

We know the only truth no one will ever burn.

**Loved ones, it can be hard to survive today’s headlines. I have a free gift for readers titled, “Free to Face the Headlines” that outlines proven strategies for processing the news without fear. There are some other free downloads there for anyone to use for themselves or in church groups. Just CLICK HERE and then click on the gift that best suits your needs.

When Your Mom Burns Your Blankie – How to be Fireproof in a Burning World https://t.co/kgy9lbuzdR #Jesus #Bible #truth

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) April 22, 2017

The Crime Blotter of Your Internal Soul

As a teen, avoiding sin seemed a simple enough proposition. You figured you could protect yourself from most risky business by avoiding bars, bad company, and back seats.

No problem. Not your scene anyway.

When you grew up, you discovered something distressing about sin. (Cue voiceover for a horror film trailer “you think you can escape it by locking the door but turn around – it’s already gotten in!”) In other words, some sins are external and can be avoided by avoiding their location, but there are other sins that are insidiously home grown.

For example, you don’t need to cruise the Internet to see pornography because your imagination can create movies that flicker on your frontal lobe. You can commit adultery in broad daylight without batting an eyelash thanks to the Kodachrome world inside your head.

You don’t need a gun to destroy people who bother you. You simply let anger harden your heart and cut them out of your life. To you, they no longer exist. Without the messy accessory of a physical weapon, you can become a social and emotional serial killer.

Without leaving your living room, you can refuse to acknowledge what is good in your life and think only on what you don’t have. You can indulge in self-pity and envy until a darkness settles over your spirit. You can have a lasting detrimental impact on your family with a simple change of demeanor, temperament, mood, or countenance all without stirring from your favorite chair.

If you let an infection of pride go untreated, you can develop a protective coating of self-deception that makes you blind to the virtues of others, deaf to the convicting voice of the Holy Spirit, and paralyzed when it comes to serving others. And all of this damaging sin can occur without taking a step off your back porch or even leaving your pew.

So, the strategies you were taught as a child for avoiding sin – “stay away from temptation, don’t be there, don’t go to that place, make wise choices in friends, remain in well-lit areas and don’t stay out late after dark,” suddenly prove impotent at the combination brothel/casino/gangland/personal-kingdom-devoted-to-self that you’ve discovered lurked inside you.

Or are they?

Avoid temptation. Can this help us with internal sin concerns?

Well, Matthew 6:22-23 says “The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are good, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are bad, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!”

So, choosing carefully where you focus your attention is a useful strategy for internal sin warfare. The writer of Hebrews encourages us “Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.” It’s harder for sin to take hold when our eyes are set on Jesus, easier when our eyes are focused on wrong goals or ideas.

Don’t be there. How can this advice help us with matters of the heart and mind? We can’t avoid ourselves!

But, you know there are low rent districts in all our minds, emotional back alleys, and soul tracks to cross. Philippians 4:8 puts it this way, “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Even in sin’s mental game, there are places we should declare off limits. Erect stop signs in your mind, loved ones. No trespassing zones. Train yourself not to go there.

Make wise choices in friends. You’re way ahead of me on this one. You know what to do. Don’t make friends with flirtation and fleeting infatuation, because soon they’ll introduce you to their pals, lust and adultery.

Don’t have dinner with discontent because soon his gangland cousin, envy will be parking his RV in your driveway. Don’t tolerate irritation and aggravation because they’ll mate and give birth to their evil triplets: anger, malice and rage.

Avoid rubbing shoulders with self-pity because soon his slobbering pet sloth will jump up on your lap and trap you for days. Instead, make friends with the Holy Spirit and He will introduce you to love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.

Remain in well-lit areas and don’t stay out late after dark. This is the best counsel of all. Shine the light of the Son of God on all the dark areas of your heart and mind. Confess – own up – come clean – admit – be honest about your thoughts and feelings to Jesus.

Souls are like refrigerators. Open the door and the light shines. Read the Psalms. David was an open book before God and it served him well. Live in the light, loved ones!

If you’re anything like me, you’re one of those Christians that really needs Jesus, especially once you’ve discovered sin isn’t all something that happens “out there.”

Fortunately, He loves us even when we invite Him in to our internal Rocky Horror picture show. Better yet, He’s never shocked or afraid – He just turns on the light.

The Crime Blotter of Your Internal Soul https://t.co/y6myJK42Qw #sin #temptation #Jesus Is there a way through the sin inside your mind?

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) April 20, 2017

When You Wrap Your Hopes in Silence . . . And Wait

When my husband and I watch football with my dad, it’s usually a noisy affair (with me making most of the noise.)

Hailing from New England, I’m sure you imagine we’re Patriots fans, and that we are. And as such, we’re accustomed to games that don’t hold out much promise only to turn around at the end. Still, nothing had prepared us for this year’s Super Bowl.

Even you non-football fans have heard the story. How New England was being beaten so badly, many fans switched off their televisions and retired for the night at half-time.

Fans of rival teams were mocking us on social media. Friends from the West Coast were texting my phone early on with friendly jabs, but into the third quarter, they were sending condolences and asking if we were okay. It appeared it wasn’t only going to be a defeat, but an historical one.

Shortly after the start of the third quarter, the three of us fell into silence. It was such a gaping silence, my mother came downstairs to check on us. We didn’t speak to one another because, as ridiculous as it seemed with the announcers proclaiming that no one had ever come back from this far behind to win a Super Bowl, we were each holding out hope in our team.

No one had ever done this before, but if anyone could, it would be the Patriots. We didn’t discuss it. We didn’t respond on social media. We barely made eye contact with one another. We just watched in silence, holding onto mere tendrils of hope.

It was incredibly stressful. Several times I regretted ever having watched my first football game. I blamed my dad. I blamed the Patriots. I wished I’d had the sense to take up a book and read in another room like my mom. I thought that if we lost, like it seemed we surely would, all those mockers on social media would be right.

But, maybe . . .

The moment it turned around is imprinted in my memory. The tie that took us into overtime cause such a celebration in our living room, my mother returned to make sure we hadn’t lost our marbles. The eventual win was incredibly sweet because of the agony that had preceded it.

And even the mockers and fans of other teams shook their heads and congratulated us because of what they knew we’d all endured throughout the long game.

Why am I thinking about this today? Because today is the day Jesus’ disciples huddled together in a room behind locked doors, I imagine mostly in silence.

They had seen their Lord, our Lord, arrested, tried, beaten, mocked, and crucified. A public humiliation and a private agony so beyond a football game as to make pro sports seem like a backyard pickup game of kickball. It wasn’t a trophy that hung in the balance for these followers, but the eternal future of the world.

Jerusalem was still full. The Passover continued with families and friends still visiting and going about the business of their lives. The religious and political leaders believed they’d ended a scourge, though some were secretly speculating about the darkness that fell during the crucifixion, the temple curtain rent in two, the earth shaking, stories of the dead rising, and Jesus’ appearing to have yielded up His Spirit. All these things could mean something or nothing depending on what transpired in the hours ahead.

If the weekdays arrived and the tomb remained sealed, it all was so much coincidence, rumor, and religious hysteria. But if the tomb should become empty, it meant they’d rejected, tried, and crucified the long-awaited Messiah.

I believe the day that stretched between the crucifixion and the rising was one marked with a long silence. What His followers awaited seemed impossible. They’d witnessed many impossible things, but this, this was unthinkable – a man rising from the dead after that.

The women who prepared His body knew death. Death and burial were homegrown affairs in those times. The women had witnessed and washed death all their lives. They knew death.

From locked upper rooms to Pilate’s wife’s night chamber, all of Jerusalem held its breath and waited. Many waited for the final “aha” so they could go on with their God-forsaken activities.

A precious few clung to fragile tendrils of hope wrapped in long hours of silence.

How agonizing those hours were in the wait, and yet how sweet in the remembering!

We must remember this now, loved ones, in the long, long hours between His ascent and the day He comes again.

Our God may tarry according to our desires, but He never fails to appear on time. Maranatha, Lord Jesus, Come!

When You Wrap Your Hopes in Silence . . . and wait https://t.co/APuPj9N9DV #Messiah #Jesus #EasterWeekend

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) April 15, 2017

The Secret Power of Scars

My son has glaring white scars that stretch across his back like an epidermal interstate.

When he was fourteen, he contracted a debilitating case of flu. After several hours, (before I knew this could happen), he experienced “vasovagal syncope” (from the strain of the illness) and fainted. He came around faster than I could get to him from the other room where I heard the thud, so, I thought all was well.

“Mom, I think I hurt myself,” he said, turning around to reveal second and third degree burns inflicted on his back when he’d fallen against our old-fashioned iron radiator. He was in shock, and I fought not to be. After one day in the emergency room, and a month of burn treatments, he was left with the lasting marks.

Some years later, a physician offered to remove the scars through laser treatments, but my son declined. “I’m proud of those scars. I survived that pain, and they’re the proof.”

Today I wondered if that’s why Jesus’ resurrected body still bore the marks of the nails in His hands and feet.

On a morning news show today, I listened to an interview with a celebrity who posted an Instagram photo of herself in a bikini, revealing her stretch marks – scars left on her otherwise flawless physique following the birth of her child.

When asked why, she said something along the lines of “That’s what’s real. That’s my truth. I gave birth and it left its mark on me.”

And why shouldn’t bringing life into this world change us, leave a mark. And why would we feel ashamed of bearing the scars that result from giving birth to new life?

Today I wondered if that’s why Jesus’ resurrected body still bore the marks of the nails in His hands and feet.

I sat with a young woman and she caught my glance at her beautiful, bare forearms covered on the soft underside with long, thin, white scars. She called me on it.

“You wondering about my victory lines?” she said. Daring me to ask more.

“Victory lines?” I asked, smiling.

“Sure. Why shouldn’t I call them that? For years, I coped with the pain in my life by cutting. These,” she indicated several that ran up and down her wrist, “these are from the time I thought I would end it all. I changed my mind, though, and called for help. Jesus came. I clung to Him like a life raft. I fought my way out of my childhood and these are the marks that prove I not only survived, I broke my attachment to the bad ways I used to cope.”

“Victory lines.” I nodded.

“I worked with a counselor who said I couldn’t write the start of my story, but Jesus can help me write a victorious new chapter. A chapter where I’m free.”

In botany, a scar is the mark on a stem indicating a former point of attachment. Some of us bear scars where we broke our attachment to the world, to sin, or to destructive ways of coping with the pain of this life. 

When someone notices the scar on our hearts or souls, our tendency is to hide, but we should remember that Jesus displayed the scars He bore for us. There’s no shame in displaying the ones we carry from breaking free in His name.

One of my favorite movie scenes is from the Lethal Weapon series. Two police detectives decide to compare scars to establish their shared experience and bravado. Each scar tells the story of a moment of courage, an episode of daring, a brush with death escaped.

Scars testify.

Scars tell stories.

Scars establish a history, prove wounds, display heroic love.

Today, I thought about the scars in Jesus’ hands and feet. How when He appeared to His followers, they were hiding behind locked doors.

They had witnessed the brutality of the Roman soldiers against their Lord. The abuse of earthly power, The evil conspiring of the religious rulers.

His followers had been surrounded by the crowds crying out for His crucifixion. They’d watched as the nails tore through His flesh and Jesus was lifted high. They heard Him cry out. They watched Him die.

They loved Him, and they’d deserted Him. What He endured, He endured alone – for their sin, for their shame. These scars told His story AND theirs.

These scars tell our story. Testify to our Father’s love, to our forgiveness, speak to our freedom.

We follow a God who bled and died. A God who suffered wounds. A God with a story.

So, when we look at Him and reveal our scars, He holds out His hands and says, “Come to me. I understand. Tell me your story. Join mine. I’ll show you the secret power of scars.”

Stop hiding behind locked doors, loved ones. Roll up your sleeves. Open your heart. Expose your scars to the light. They are your story and, yielded to Christ, they testify to His story. They have power against the darkness.

Scars. They aren’t your shame – they’re your story.

The Secret Power of Scars https://t.co/T7eTNEBWtD why did Jesus still bear the scars? #HolyWeek #Jesus #resurrection

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) April 13, 2017

To Those Seeking to Destroy the Church of Jesus Christ on Holy Week

To Those Seeking to Destroy the Church of Jesus Christ on Holy Week,

You think if you spray the walls of our churches with our blood, this will silence the truth. In truth, blood is nothing new to the church. The blood of Jesus Christ was shed for us all. The blood of those slain by humans cries out to our Father God and He hears the testimony of the dead.

The blood of the saints is a river that flows through human history since the death of Jesus Christ. You haven’t caused it – you’ve been caught up in its riptide. Better to join the river of blood than to be crushed upon the Rock when He comes. Let Him who has ears to hear, hear the truth.

You think you will control us or our message with your guns, your bombs, your terrorist claims. In truth, you control nothing.

Our lives are in the hands of Jesus Christ. This week, of all weeks, we remember that He laid down His life; no one took it from Him. We are His people. The timing of your acts this week perfectly coincides with His reminder to us that those who think they are in control, have no lasting power.

You seek to eradicate Christianity from your country, and you believe the lie that you will accomplish this by killing my brothers and sisters. You are deceived like all who came before you. They thought they would end God’s plan by killing His Son, but we know our Father raised Him to eternal life.

Those you’ve slaughtered may be gone from your sight, but they are alive forever. One day, you will see this. And on the day you take the life of the last Christian in your region, that is the day the rocks and stones will cry out, testifying to a truth that cannot be denied. There is One God, there is no other, and the only way to Him is through Jesus Christ.

You are like children shooting pop guns at light bulbs, failing to understand that you’re advancing your own state of darkness.

When we die easily, when we cry out under your oppression, when we plead for mercy as you take our sons and daughters, you imagine we are weak, and so we are.

But we are our Father’s children, so we will not give in to fear. We are our Father’s children, and He will make us strong. We are our Father’s children, so if you take our lives from us, He will raise us up.

We are our Father’s children, so we will not give into hate. We are our Father’s children, so we will ask Him to help us love you, even as you terrorize those we love. We are our Father’s children, so we will intercede for your salvation, your deliverance from darkness, your inclusion in eternal life.

We will plead for your freedom.

You operate from a false matrix. You think you choose, but you’re puppets of an insatiable master using you in his futile last gasp to rob the earth of light. We know the truth about you because we see the greater reality. We see Jesus.

All you must do to find freedom is to turn and look to Him, too. Even with the blood of His children on your hands, He will welcome you into His forgiving arms.

That is what we remember this week. That is the truth we celebrate. You see, your terrorism couldn’t have been better timed. The hound of Heaven pursues even your souls. Abandon the matrix of death to align yourself with life. Then you will understand why even if you take us down in our own house of worship, we will still rise.

Let us pray for those in the path of destruction this week. For our brothers and sisters in Christ who suffer for a time until they are united with Christ; and also for those operating in darkness hurtling toward an eternity without the Light of Life.

To Those Seeking to Destroy the Church of Jesus Christ on Holy Week https://t.co/0cHMnMU0aB #ISIS #palmsunday #ChurchBombing

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) April 9, 2017

The Cost of Bringing Life into the World

When I began my labor to give birth to Hannah, my second child, I confess that I panicked.

At the first pang, my mind went wild. Oh no! Wait a minute! I remember this! This is pain like no other. This is agony. This is hours ahead of loss of control and body-ripping pain! What was I thinking? I can’t do this! I change my mind.

Of course, the only way through that was through it and when I held her in my arms, she was worth every moment.

Jesus is God but He was also a man.

On the night he was betrayed, he spent hours on his knees anticipating the pain that was to come and pleading with his father to find another way.

What lay ahead of him was betrayal. Humiliation and rejection in front of everyone he knew and loved. Abandonment by those closest to Him. Seeing the confusion and disappointment on the faces of His followers. Watching His mother’s face as she watched her first born die.

There would be a terrible beating followed by the agony of crucifixion.

I know that if someone had said to me at the start of my labor that I didn’t have to go through it, I would have backed out. The only way to reach my child was through that pain and yet, the only reason I faced it was because there was no other way.

Jesus was a man facing bitter, painful hours of labor for our salvation. He asked His Father for another way but His Father said this was the only course.

So Jesus obeyed Him. He willingly endured the pain and shame of the cross.

And gave birth to new life for any of us who turn to the cross and acknowledge that our sin put Him there. For any of us, who claim His sacrifice as covering for our own sin. For any of us, who agree to follow Him, trusting Him with our lives, offering Him our obedience even through dark, painful roads.

Jesus Christ is the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

Nothing was taken from Him that He did not lay down. Like a mother bear fighting for her cubs, He volunteered for battle and conquered in the end.

We are embarking on the week of remembrance. What it cost for us to bask in forgiveness and grace.

The days of my greatest pain are also the days of my two children’s births, the days they first breathed the air of life. So, too, the day of Jesus’ greatest pain was the day of our birth, the day we were finally free to inhale the freedom of eternity.

Have you taken your first breath?

The Cost of Bringing Life into the World https://t.co/V20qE8tr9M #Jesus #Passionweek #laboroflove

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) April 7, 2017

How God Sees Us as We Become the Oldest Generation

My parents tell me a lot of things I already know. Does this happen to you?

I was at my folk’s house when my married daughter called. When she hung up, I explained she was home with a fever.

My dad rose immediately and went to the counter where he keeps his medications. “Call her back and tell her she should take some ibuprofen. I have some right here you can bring her. Sylvia, where’s our thermometer? Does she have one?”

Mom responded in the same vein. “She should drink plenty of liquids and if it isn’t better, she should call the doctor for an antibiotic tomorrow.”

About that time, Dad set his faithful bottle of witch hazel onto the table beside me. “Tell her to rub down with this.”

“Whoa, Nellie!” I held up my hands. “Let’s recall the emergency response team. Can we remember that I’m in my fifties and fully experienced getting that grown child through plenty of fevers? I have heard of these items you’ve named – ibuprofen, you say? Thermometer? Yep, not new concepts. Not to mention that she’s a married adult, also well-versed in the treatment of minor ailments.

I, however, am guilty of pulling the same stunts on my children. When anticipating a major snow storm, I may have called both my grown children to instruct them on what they needed by way preparation. I also may have told them several times how important it would be to drive carefully. It was my twenty-eight-year old son who called me out.

“Wait, what? It’s a bad thing to drive eighty in a blizzard? Wow, Mom, thank you. You may have just saved my life because that’s exactly what I had planned.”

Fine. I’m guilty. I’m not too old to blame MY parents for setting that bad example.

The truth is that we never “catch up” with the people who raised us. We may become adults, but we’re never their peers. There’s always something new to discover and chances are, they’ve experienced it first.

And, I still need my mom and dad. Not in the same way from decade to decade, but I relish having a generation that’s older than I am. They are there for me in ways no one else ever has been or will be. I dread the days to come when they go before me to eternity.

And as competent as my adult children are, they still need me. When I see them, I see adults, but FIRST, I see MY CHILDREN as adults.

Recently, I listened to a gentleman talk about the strain of being in those decades when friends are failing and dying on a startlingly regular basis. He spoke of the stress of finding new physical limitations with each new year and of routinely seeing familiar faces in the obituary section. He wasn’t complaining, but simply describing the challenges of his age group.

That moment, it occurred to me that even though his parents are gone and can’t guide him, His Heavenly Father knows the way through this time, too. Suddenly, I realized that compared to our eternal God, even as we age, He still sees children! Even when we live into our nineties, we’re still new to this thing called “life” when compared to eternity.

Just as there are skills to learn from childhood to adulthood, there are competencies to be gained into our later years. Things like managing our emotions in a rapidly changing world, coping with loss, embracing new generations, and navigating new physical and mental challenges.

As aging Christians, we also are learning to communicate our faith across generations, to mentor younger “old” people on how to mentor others. We’re learning to remind the next generations of truth without getting stuck on old methods of accomplishing that truth, and to model grace and faith until the moment of our death.

We’re not even exempt from temptation in our later years. I have a widow friend who, in her seventies, was surprised to have to be dealing, AGAIN, with how to conduct her dating life and romantic relationships. It made me think it would make sense to team teens with senior citizens since they’re making their way through similar waters!

But, we have a lot of spiritual ground to defend against temptation, too. Self-pity, bitterness, resentment, fear, anger, apathy, and envy are still enemies we battle, even as octogenarian warriors. We’re still teaching the generation behind us how to score defeats against the darkness. We still have every opportunity to be light. As Paul knew, there’s value in sticking with the race to the very finish.

“For I am already being poured out as a drink offering, and the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing.” 2 Timothy 4:6-8

We never outgrow our need for parents. Christians know we still have One even if we live over a hundred years.

Psalm 71:17-18 says this, “O God, from my youth you have taught me, and I still proclaim your wondrous deeds. So even to old age and gray hairs, O God, do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come.”

We are His children, forever. Wondering how to navigate your senior years? He knows the way.

You want to be effective in your faith. You want to grow up in Christ and defeat the giants in your life. You’ll want to read my latest book, Jesus and the Beanstalk (Overcoming Your Giants and Living a Fruitful Life).

How God Sees Us as We Become the Oldest Generation https://t.co/cBwjqJWvrt #agingChristians #Jesus #finishstrong

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) April 5, 2017

When You’re Thinking You’re a Loser for Jesus and Feel like an April Fool

Sometimes you think you’re getting somewhere, you know, with this whole growing up in Jesus business.

You’re hitting your Bible regularly and going deep, not just the quick pass over a verse and a thought but digging in and rocking it. Your prayer life is consistent and gets more involved than “Help!” and “Please!” (Not that those words don’t feature frequently.)

They know your face at church and well, you get the point. You’re no soul slouch.

Then, whammo! You hit what is apparently a giant spiritual pothole of what was that?

Instead of choruses of praise songs, your mind floods with whispers from the dark side. Who do you think you’re fooling? You’re a loser for Jesus. A con for Christ. A fool of the highest order.

Oh, you’re able to pull it together for flashes of time and convince a few people you’re a godly person, but one hiccup and you’re wallowing in really common sinful goop –the sinkhole of self-pity, the jaws of jealousy, or the axis of anger.

No matter how many alliterations you throw at it, though, it ain’t pretty. Other people figure out how to pull it together for Jesus, you know, so what’s wrong with you? After all this time, are you still expecting Jesus to pick up the tab for the gaping holes in your soul? He had such high hopes for you but now, now you’re just a disappointment to Him, well, to everyone, really.

The voices nearly convince you. It feels as though life is an algebra test and you missed the class on variables so you sit back, stunned, baffled, mystified by the entire equation.

But, this is when the regular Bible reading and prayer, the steady diet of truth and strong theology (yeah, that stuff is part of your arsenal, because sometimes you need a tank against the enemy) turn out to come in handy. God’s voice is so much better to listen to than the taunts of the darkness.

Verses and passages flood in like redeemed flying monkeys serving a new Master because, you know, that water took care of the Wicked Witch and Living Water is what will dissolve this assault on you, too. Jesus steps in and reminds you He’s the Master of a new math.

Yes, you still slip in it, sometimes you even belly flop down a slip-and-slide of the old sin nature. You’re growing in Christ but you’re not home yet, baby. As long as you reside on this outpost of glory, you’re going to step on landmines that detonate unsanctified sectors of your cleansed soul, but you’re no loser, and if you’re a fool, you’re God’s fool, and that redefines you right there.

You’re eternal, loved one. There’s time to become His idea of you. You live in the light (all the better to see the pitfalls with, my dear). You fall back into the arms of grace because this is your home, your hope, your whole plan for salvation.

Just Jesus, Jesus, Jesus all the time. It’s never you making payments on the bill your soul rang up. You were completely bankrupted by sin but He covered every dime. Now, all you owe is love and even that, He’s supplied.

So now you’re pulling out of the soul skid, brushing off your knees and soaking in the healing truth “that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it until the day of Jesus Christ;” (Philippians 1:6) and “There is therefore now no condemnation to those who are in Christ Jesus, who do not walk according to the flesh, but according to the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has made me free from the law of sin and death.” Romans 8:1-2

And you unsheathe your sword so you can dwell in Romans 8, the whole chapter, gulping it down like the coldest water on the hottest day until the light surrounding you, shielding you, has fended off the dark assault.

Whew. That was close. But, He’s done it. Reached down and pulled you out of that spin. Wrapped you in His light like the shield force around the Starship Enterprise only better because it’s not science fiction; it’s the truth that protects your soul.

You’re no loser for Jesus. You’re lost in Him, but that’s how you found the way.

And what looks foolish to a world steeped in deception is actually rock hard ancient wisdom.  Wisdom buried so deep beneath the boots of our culture it seems like fools’ gold, but it’s genuine and true and you hold it in your restored heart.

Yeah, you blow it. You get it wrong. You fall. But even when you’re on the mat, you’re a child of the High King, a redeemed soul, an eternal spirit, one who is Loved by the Almighty God destined for glory, forgiven, saved by grace. He’s got you.

The whisperer doesn’t scare Him. One little word will fell him. Boom. Jesus.

You hear that? That’s right. That’s the silence that follows the boom. Rest in that. Rest in Him. He’s got you.

When You’re Thinking You’re a Loser for Jesus and feel like an #AprilFools https://t.co/WVC1YLNZAP #foolforJesus #spiritualstruggle #Jesus

— Lori Roeleveld (@lorisroeleveld) April 1, 2017