No Good Deed Left Unpunished
Why can’t we see the good in kindness? Last summer, a couple of teen-aged girls in rural Durango, Colorado, chose to stay home from a dance and use the night to bake cookies for their neighbors. Taylor Ostergaard and Lindsey Zellitti ran the idea past Taylor’s dad – whose approval was contingent on getting a few cookies for himself – and began baking around 9 p.m. They prepared nine plates of cookies, made heart-shaped cards with the message, “Have a great night. From the T and L Club.” They then put them on people’s front porches anonymously. They rang or knocked – and disappeared. Since it was after 10, Taylor and Lindsey determined not to stop by houses that were dark. They’d only go where the people were still up and had lights shining. Their chocolate chip and sugar cookies could be bedtime treats. Talk about your random acts of kindness. Or just old-fashioned good neighborliness. But there’s more to the story. One of the recipients was a 49-year-old woman at home with her own 18-year-old daughter and her mother. She heard the knock at her door. She called out, “Who’s there?” Getting no answer, she called the sheriff’s office. Officers came, found the cookies, and determined that no crime had been committed. The unnerved cookie recipient couldn’t get over it. She went to her sister’s house for the rest of the night. Next morning, she went to a hospital emergency room with an upset stomach. She was diagnosed as having suffered a panic attack. What a terrible backlash from something with such good intentions. The two girls learned what had happened and wrote letters of apology. “I didn’t realize this would cause trouble for you,” said Taylor’s note. “I just wanted you to know that someone cared about you and your family.” The girls’ parents offered to pay the woman’s expenses from the hospital visit. She wouldn’t accept! She said the apologies didn’t ring true and weren’t delivered in person. So she sued the girls! Her lawsuit claimed about $900 in medical fees and raised the issue of punitive damages for “pain and suffering.” A Durango judge awarded the $900, but no punitive damages. Only in America! “I just hope the girls learned a lesson,” said the woman who sued them. Oh, I’ll bet they did! We can only hope it’s not the cynical lesson that kindness is only so much wasted energy or that courts are capricious places these days. Final Editor’s Note: As we close this week, we all remember another act of graciousness – far greater than cookies and a card – that went unappreciated. God sent his Son to serve and to bless the lost, broken, forgotten, and powerless. We also remember another capricious court decision that surrendered the Son of God to be crucified before a jeering mob. Most of the world still does not know – or does not care – about such a divine sacrifice. We rejoice that God did not give up on doing kind things for us because of the ungratefulness of some. We hope that Taylor and Lindsey don’t give up on their kind deeds, either. About the author: Rubel Shelly preached for decades and served as a professor of medical ethics, Bible, and philosophy at multiple universities. He was a former president of Rochester College and Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Lipscomb University. He was the author of more than 30 books and hundreds of inspirational articles. His commitment to a non-sectarian presentation of the gospel touched countless lives.
Of Natural Causes
How long would you have to be gone before someone noticed? So accept each other just as Christ has accepted you; then God will be glorified (Romans 15:7 NLT). Larry died of natural causes the coroner suggested. I balked at the suggestion, because Larry was only 51 years old. Now for some of you, that may seem old, but I’m 52 – dying of natural causes at 51 didn’t seem quite right. But the longer I read the article about Larry’s passing, I realized the “natural causes” were not what we usually mean when someone “dies of natural causes.” Larry’s remains were recently found in his house in a skeletal, mummified condition. No one had seen him since Hurricane Rita that had devastated Beaumont, Texas, nearly 18 months ago. The body was found on top of the bed, just like he had gone in to take a nap and never awakened. They are not sure if Larry expired shortly before the hurricane’s arrival or shortly afterward. His house had not been severely damaged, so no one had actually gone inside to check on him and most folks just felt he had left before the approaching hurricane and never returned. A prospective buyer for the house found Larry’s body. The house was put up for auction because of unpaid taxes. Sadly, no one had really missed Larry. Although he had family in the city, he didn’t want to see them. His neighbors made assumptions about his absence. Who knows, if someone had been more aware of his status, he might have been found before he died! Unfortunately we live in a time when we hardly know any of our neighbors anymore. This is true whether we are talking about the neighborhood where we live or the “neighborhood” where we usually sit when we attend church. While we face an epidemic of loneliness in the many developed countries in the world – and the U.S. seems to be the worst – most folks are waiting for someone else to reach out and include them. Rather than risking rejection, or interfering, or involvement, most of us go about our routines and remain relatively anonymous to the folks around us. While Larry’s death is an extreme example, his death should shock us into a realization that there are lonely people all around us – maybe even within us – who need someone to reach out and simply include them. So why don’t we? I’m going to challenge you to do just that. Look around your neighborhood and your church, and find people who seem a bit lonely or isolated. Intentionally include them. Encourage folks at your church or within your group of friends to begin to call on one elderly person per week to just check on that person and see how he or she is doing. Change the neighborhood where you sit at church at least once per month and sit by someone who seems to be alone and find out about that person. Offer to help carry the boxes or assist someone older who needs help with groceries, the garbage can, or other tasks. What holds you back from reaching out to someone else? What makes it hard to help touch the heart of someone who seems to be alone that you regularly see each week? Why have we become such an isolate culture, as we grow more supposedly “civilized and high tech”? I’d love to hear your take on this and what we can do to make it better. Let me know on my blog, I’d love to hear from you. You can find today’s discussion at this address: About the author: Phil Ware has authored 11 years of daily devotionals, including VerseoftheDay.com, read by 500,000 people a day. He works with churches in transition with Interim Ministry Partners and for the past 21+ years, he has been editor and president of HEARTLIGHT Magazine, author of VerseoftheDay.com, God’s Holy Fire (on the Holy Spirit), and aYearwithJesus.com. Phil has also authored four books, daily devotionals on each of the four gospels.
How Great the Father’s Love!
Does any of the Father’s love splash over and touch the people in your family? I overheard a young mother recounting her nighttime ritual of laying her head on her pillow and asking herself, “Did I love my family enough today? If something happens to me tonight will they know exactly how much I loved them?” As an “older and wiser” woman – and more skeptical and a bit jaded, I suppose – my first instinct was to laugh: “Well, of course you didn’t love them enough! How silly!” Jesus conceded that though we are imperfect parents (He literally called us “evil”!) we still do the best we know how! (Luke 6:11-13) Chances are, I did NOT love my family enough today or on any day. Her question, however, haunted me. I continued to turn it over again and again in my mind. The question seemed a bit less daunting and a lot less accusing if I rephrased it: “Could I love my children more, could I love my children better, tomorrow?” Well, Lord willing, I will be given tomorrow with my family. And yes, I will try to love them more completely tomorrow. However, none of us is promised tomorrow for our families or ourselves. I have wept with mothers who have kissed tiny foreheads for the last time to send them to “The Land Where There Is No Tomorrow.” I have prayed and pleaded with mothers whose children have been precariously close to the edge of “The Land Where There Is No Tomorrow.” Those women know what it is to lay their heads down at night and ask, “Did I love them enough …?” My husband and I have tangoed around the line of calling it quits on “happily ever after.” With our new resolve for our marriage, I am painfully aware of how fragile a marriage can be. I am fully aware of his choice to be here. I am intentional about daily letting him know that I appreciate his choice and all that he is to our family. Thankfully, I have not faced the horrific loss of one of my children. But, I think I have failed to be intentional about letting them know how thankful I am for them, as well. The old apostle John, near the end of his life, reminded us, “How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1) My loving Father has LAVISHED His love on me. Surely, that lavished love should run over and splash on my family. One small thing I am realizing more and more is that as my children grow, the frequent opportunity to touch or hug them is diminishing. I don’t lift them in and out of car seats or high chairs any more. I don’t help them in and out of the bathtub, wipe their faces, or even brush their hair for them any more. They are no longer at an arm’s distance or underfoot all day, so I must be intentional about meaningful touch for my children. I know that my arms ache when my husband is not in town to hug and touch me. My children need touch and love even more! I also realize that sometimes I really have to try to listen carefully to what my children say. I am frequently guilty of multi-tasking which, I’ve come to realize, means doing several things poorly at the same time. It really doesn’t take very long to sit, look into their eyes, and really hear what they are saying – and sometimes, if I am really listening, I can even hear what they aren’t saying. I think about how much it means to me when someone has obviously heard what I said and then later asks me about it. I want my children to know they are valuable enough to get my full attention! Another thing that I’ve realized that means a lot to my kids is to simply sit together and hang around together. Of course, the TV should be off for this – although it’s also a good idea to know what they’re watching and talk to them about it. My kids like for me to talk to them about my day, as well as listen to them about theirs. We dream and scheme, hope and plan. Meaningful touch, intentional listening, and being together are not huge undertakings. They take a very little amount of time – my kids really like to limit how much time they hang out with me anyway– and they require no money at all! I just have to be intentional about doing those things. And tonight I will wonder, “Could I love them more tomorrow?” About the author: Sarah (Riley) Stirman graduated from Abilene Christian University with a degree in Elementary/ Special Education. A freelance writer, she currently lives in Abilene, Texas with her husband, Troy, their 2 children: Ashley, and Riley, as well as Duchess the chocolate lab and Stickers the hedgehog.
Giving without Regret
How do you feel when the gift you gave is not appreciated? The following story is told in The Best of Bits and Pieces: Robert De Vincenzo, the great Argentine golfer, once won a tournament and, after receiving the check and smiling for the cameras, he went to the clubhouse and prepared to leave. Some time later, he walked alone to his car in the parking lot and was approached by a young woman. She congratulated him on his victory and then told him that her child was seriously ill and near death. She did not know how she could pay the doctor’s bills and hospital expenses. De Vincenzo was touched by her story, and he took out a pen and endorsed his winning check for payment to the woman. “Make some good days for the baby,” he said as he pressed the check into her hand. The next week he was having lunch in a country club when a Professional Golf Association official came to his table. “Some of the boys in the parking lot last week told me you met a young woman there after you won that tournament.” De Vincenzo nodded. “Well,” said the official, “I have news for you. She’s a phony. She has no sick baby. She’s not even married. She fleeced you, my friend.” “You mean there is no baby who is dying?” said De Vincenzo. “That’s right,” said the official. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all week,” De Vincenzo said. Wow! What a beautiful spirit! I wish I could say that I would have reacted the same way, but I know that I probably would not have. I would have struggled with feelings of resentment. I would have said, “See if I try to help anyone else again!” De Vincenzo’s attitude is reminiscent of the spirit that God has shown toward us. Despite mankind taking God’s goodness for granted, despite our repeated failures, God was willing to give not just a token amount, but the ultimate sacrifice of His Son. He did so, not reluctantly or with resentment, but willingly and gladly, knowing that while most would only show disdain for his gift, some would respond in obedience motivated by faith and love. For when we were still without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly. For scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:6-8) May the realization of what God has given motivate you to respond to him and to reach out to others with the same kind of love. About the author: Alan Smith ministers with the Church of Christ in White House, Tennessee and publishes the email devotional “Thought for the Day.”
Jesus, Send the Cops
What in the world has Mildred gotten herself into this time? Mildred Budge was just steering out of Wal-Mart when an ambulance veered in and stopped by the Main entrance to the parking lot. Mildred cast a concerned glance over her shoulder; and if she had looked too long, she wouldn’t have seen the speeding white Hummer that turned short and barely missed sending her to heaven in that moment. “Jesus, send the cops!” she prayed, reaching the traffic light as it turned red. Like the other drivers, Millie Budge sat with her tidy foot on the brakes, her black and red Mini-Cooper pulsing to the jive tempo of idling machinery, and she marveled that she was not nearly as impatient as her car telegraphed to other drivers. Looking about, she smiled diffidently as the unexpected gaze of a trucker found hers. Then, Miss Budge flushed when he tapped two grease-stained fingers to his brow and mouthed the old-fashioned words, “Howdy, ma’am.” Mildred had always liked men who had a relationship with petroleum-based products and felt inexplicably flattered to be acknowledged by one who obviously was a master of his destiny on the road. She automatically reached to tighten her bra strap but stopped, sending her fingers to fluff the curls at the back of her head instead. The trucker, assuming that the curl fluffing was a form of come hither, let his blood-shot eyes shine with greeting. Then, he pressed a button and his big truck rocked with noise, and Mildred thought to herself: “I am the cause of a public disturbance!” The idea pleased the staid church woman enormously. If the truck driver with the grease-stained hands had been standing beneath a balcony serenading her with violinists, Mildred Budge could not have been more flattered. Her smile grew. Instantly, she traveled back in time on decades of romance-induced smiles, looking up into the rearview mirror expecting to find her girlish dimples which she had been famous for at 17, but all she saw now were the deepest kinds of wrinkles that no face cream could fix, and she certainly wasn’t going to pump poison into the temple of the Lord by buying Botox treatments. Even though it was against her common sense and religion, Mildred Budge always watched the Botox commercials. And those ones about dermabrasion. She wasn’t sure what dermabrasion meant, really, but she thought it had something to do with scraping away time-dusting the layers of wrinkles on one’s face with a miniature version of a floor polishing machine. Repenting of one’s sins in prayers seemed a simpler matter, and while one resisted repenting, the effects were youthening and refreshing. Proud that she had resisted the powerful pull of a poisoned smile (though she was still thinking about dermabrasion), Mildred prepared to attempt an artless shoulder shrug (okay, her bra strap was slipping!) that she had recently seen resurrected by the models on “Deal or No Deal” when they opened the money cases for Howie Mandel, who was astonishingly attractive for a bald man wearing an earring. Miss B. had just finished her shoulder roll, when something fast flashed in her rearview mirror, and she saw the reckless racing return of the white Hummer that had found its destination behind her, then hung a U-ie, and was heading violently back toward her. The Hummer was coming right at her, going to send Miss Budge to heaven this time for sure before she was ready to go, and in that instant with passion pulsing to the right of her and her apparently certain death coming from the rear, Mildred Budge remembered the ambulance parked in front of Wal-Mart – and they could get to her fast if it came to that- and she said, “Thank you, Jesus for preparing our way before us.” And as soon as she did, grace happened. The heavens opened up and the red light blinked out, replaced by the friendly green. Miss Budge looked regretfully up at the trucker, whose oversized truck didn’t have the pick up her red and black Mini-Cooper did. So he wouldn’t think her rude, Millie Budge trilled her fingers in the air as if she were still 17, toed the gas pedal, taking off delicately into the traffic, only to have her graceful, grace-ordained, heaven-blessed departure marred by the sudden swerve of that nervy white Hummer that peeled past the truck. With all of the insolence of youth at its worst, the Hummer scorched past the two would-be, could-be almost acquaintances participating in the dance of daylight, and Mildred, with her just bought milk in the back seat needing to be in the refrigerator and grateful for the conveniently parked ambulance at the ready in front of Wal-Mart but apparently not needed for her, prayed her ambulance prayer anyway: “Lord, be merciful to us, we’re strangers. Sinners,” she corrected with a frown, as she saw a car literally pushed off the road by the bullying Hummer. Then the church lady added a prayerful P.S. that incongruously arose to her lips right after an expression of gratitude for grace: “Jesus, send the cops.” The Adventures of Mildred Budge are short stories by Daphne Simpkins that feature a church lady of a discreet age who is salt and light in the secular world around her. Thus, Miss Budge goes where Jesus would go as she loves and reaches out to the lost in the way that church ladies do. Tensions occur. Entertainment happens. People change, and for our heroine who is daily being made a little more like Jesus, those changes most often occur as a budge here or there rather than a giant leap of faith. About the author: Daphne Simpkins has written over two hundred essays and stories appearing in a variety of national periodicals including The Chicago Tribune. Her memoir The Long Good Night was excerpted in The Christian Century and is available through Amazon, www.eerdmans.com and other bookstores. Merry Christmas Miss Budge! is offered
Betting on the Wrong Horse!
In whom or on what are you betting your life? Trust is difficult to achieve, isn’t it? Not only is it difficult to give complete trust to someone or something, it difficult to receive it, also. In what or whom do you trust? Last week, I needed to do some work on the third story roof of our house. It takes two ladders plus a climb over the roof to get there. My youngest son came over to give me a hand. We held the ladder steady for each other as we climbed to the different levels. We literally put our lives in the hands of one another. The problem with life is that far too often, folks trust in the wrong things and in the wrong people. They literally “bet their lives” that they can trust in those things or persons. Have you ever bet on a sure thing, one that couldn’t possibly fail or let you down? Yeah, me, too! I heard an amusing story that illustrates what can happen. It seems that an archaeologist was digging in the Negev Desert in Israel and came upon a sarcophagus containing a mummy. After examining it, he called the curator of a prestigious natural history museum. “I’ve just discovered the 3,000 year old mummy of a man who died of heart failure!” the excited scientist exclaimed. The curator replied, “Bring him in. We’ll check it out.” A week later, the amazed curator called the archaeologist and said, “You were right about the mummy’s age and cause of death. How in the world did you know?” “Easy! There was a piece of paper in his hand that said, ‘10,000 Shekels on Goliath.’” King David, the one who defeated Goliath, wrote these words: It is better to trust the LORD than to put confidence in people. It is better to trust the LORD than to put confidence in princes. (Psalms 118:8-9 NLT) David also wrote the following: Those who trust in the LORD are as secure as Mount Zion; they will not be defeated but will endure forever. (Psalms 125:1) The Bible reminds us of this truth: “For God has said, ‘I will never fail you. I will never forsake you’” (Hebrews 13:5). But, do we really believe it? On what have you chosen to bet your life? In whom will you place your trust? If you choose some mere mortal human, you will be disappointed … sooner or later, someday in some way. So let me encourage you to choose to trust in God. He will never fail or forsake you no matter what! An old hymn reminds us to “Trust and obey, for there’s no other way to be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.” Perhaps it is time to ask yourself: “In whom do I trust?” About the author: Russ Lawson is a former missionary to Africa and minister in Ohio. He now works with World Christian Literature Outreach and writes a weekly email devotional, Messages from the Heart. For more information about Russ, click here.
Figuring Out the Future
So what’s going to happen with all this mess? We human beings are not very adept at predicting the future. Littered along the highway of human history are countless bad guesses and failed insights. The more often we speak with certainty, the more embarrassed we are likely to be. “Everything that can be invented has been invented,” declared Charles H. Duell, the U.S. Commissioner of Patents. That was in 1899. Horace Rackham was advised by a president of the Michigan Savings Bank not to invest in the Ford Motor Company in 1903. “The horse is here to stay,” he predicted, “but the automobile is only a novelty – a fad.” Fortunately for Rackham, Henry Ford’s attorney, he ignored the banker’s short-sightedness and bought $5,000 worth of stock. He sold it several years later for $12.5 million. In rejecting an aspiring band in 1962, Decca Records made this fearless prophecy about its future in music. “We don’t like their sound. Groups of guitars are on the way out.” Thus the company passed on signing the Beatles. “There is no reason for any individual to have a computer in their home,” said the president and founder of Digital Equipment Corporation in 1977. Clifford Roberts, founder of golf’s prestigious Masters Tournament, once said, “As long as I’m alive, golfers will be white, and caddies will be black.” He clearly didn’t have the prescience to foresee either the Civil Rights Movement or Tiger Woods’ domination of the professional tour. Humility will always be in order for us as we try to anticipate what lies ahead. But are there no certainties about tomorrow? Is there nothing on which to anchor our hope? Here are a couple of promises to keep in mind in these stressful times. Nothing in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:39). No test or temptation that comes your way is beyond the course of what others have had to face. All you need to remember is that God will never let you down; he’ll never let you be pushed past your limit; he’ll always be there to help you through it (1 Corinthians 10:13). Markets and the future of global economies, music and other cultural trends, breakthroughs in science and medicine – all are beyond our ability to predict. But the spiritual certainties based on God’s sure promises take the uncertainty out of today and let us move forward with confidence. If you want some confidence about the future, focus your attention on the one person who actually knows something about it. About the author: Rubel Shelly preached for decades and served as a professor of medical ethics, Bible, and philosophy at multiple universities. He was a former president of Rochester College and Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Lipscomb University. He was the author of more than 30 books and hundreds of inspirational articles. His commitment to a non-sectarian presentation of the gospel touched countless lives.
Standing at the Gate
Where is home when home is gone? Special Note:Just hours before His crucifixion, Jesus shared the following words of comfort with His disciples: Don’t be troubled. You trust God, now trust in me. There are many rooms in my Father’s home, and I am going to prepare a place for you. If this were not so, I would tell you plainly. When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so that you will always be with me where I am. (John 14:1-3 NLT) Little did Jesus’ disciples know what lay ahead for them – both ghastly and glorious. Neither do we know what lies ahead for us in this life. We only know that for some reason, deep in our soul, we have no lasting home here. We thank Elizabeth Price for such a touching reminder about our real home and hope. It is a sad thing to stand at the gate of where home used to be and now it is not. You stand like a stranger, a guest without a welcome, at a gate that once swung open to your touch. You have no right to open it now; no right to smile and step inside and say, “I’m home.” You stand outside; the warmth and the welcome that was once yours by right is now locked. Everyone inside the gate is a stranger to you and you feel like an alien to everyone outside. I know because I have stood there. Like passing generations, you repeat sadly, “I am a passing guest, as all my forefathers were.” It is a collective admission of insignificance by a disappearing people – a people who have no right to call this world “home.” So where do you go to go home? Like a little dark swallow, you slip into a cave to hide from a world that has shut its gate on you. But wait! A cave is not your home. Even the swallow and the sparrow are given more wonderful apartments than caves. Listen, “Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow has her nest where she rears her brood beside your altars, Lord of Hosts, my King and God.” (Psalm 84) You see, He has already prepared a place for you where the gate is always open. So tell the world and invite everyone you meet to come with you. Open the gate of your homelessness and let Him put His altar there to make His home your own. About the author: Elizabeth is a team writer for “Just a Minute” e-zine.
Where to Begin
Is there a place to start making the world a better place? Have you ever had the feeling that something needs to be done to straighten a crooked thing? Right a wrong? Slay a dragon? Perhaps the issue at hand was a social evil, a family matter, or a church problem. It could have been abortion, teen-age rebellion, or division. Most often the outcome is merely that we wring our hands, lament the problem is larger than our resources, and do nothing. There’s a better approach. “But what can just one person do about problems of such immense proportions?” somebody asks. In Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s The First Circle, the character who appears to speak for him is named Nerzhin. At one point, Nerzhin is pondering this question: “If you wanted to set the world to rights, who would you begin with – yourself or other people?” The frustration most of us feel about solving great problems is that we have no control over others and their behaviors. Thus we are willing to let the problem remain unaddressed – but feeling pious now that we are at least aware of it and concerned. Every problem you have a true concern about, however, is one with which you can begin with yourself to make a difference. What can you do about the abortion problem? How about opening your home to a scared teen-ager whose choice is between an abortion and being kicked out by humiliated parents? The crisis pregnancy center in your city would love to have you as a volunteer to provide shelter for one of those girls. What can you do about adolescent rebellion? Spend more time with your own children to build bridges of love and communication. Or stick out your neck to share the pain of fellow-parents in their nightmare of alienation. What can you do about division in your church? Call a person from whom you have been estranged to have lunch and talk. Or host a luncheon for two people who are at odds to see if you can be a peacemaker for them. Problems that remain someone else’s responsibility go unresolved forever. At some point, somebody has to begin to set a matter right. Decades ago now, a London newspaper asked its readers to respond to this question: “What is wrong with the world?” Letters began pouring in and were printed. One simply said, “Dear Sirs, I am. Sincerely, G.K. Chesterton.” Can you think of anything that needs to be put right today? “You are the salt of the earth. But what good is salt if it has lost its flavor? Can you make it useful again? It will be thrown out and trampled underfoot as worthless.” (Matthew 5:13) About the author: Rubel Shelly preached for decades and served as a professor of medical ethics, Bible, and philosophy at multiple universities. He was a former president of Rochester College and Professor of Philosophy and Religion at Lipscomb University. He was the author of more than 30 books and hundreds of inspirational articles. His commitment to a non-sectarian presentation of the gospel touched countless lives.
Fine!
What gives us hope in the middle of crisis? I told Elder Bob that I thought we would be fine. We were officiating at the funeral of our dear sister, Maryanne. Both being close to her family, we shared the thought that standing and speaking might introduce some difficulty into the experience. I had previewed just a minute or so of three different audio-visual presentations. And in the brief glimpse, I made the judgment that the first collection of music and pictures would not trigger our emotions like the last two. The good news was that both Bob and I would have our part of the program completed long before the last two were played. After a few songs, I welcomed those who had gathered on that overcast March afternoon. A brief prayer later and Bob and I stepped off the platform to watch the first video. With baby pictures of Maryanne displayed above and before us, I breathed easily as Brown-Eyed Girl echoed through the auditorium. I silently prayed a thanksgiving for the way that churches now allow the families to plan services that memorialize and celebrate. Happy pictures spun through happy music. Minutes later, we were on far more difficult ground. Maryanne was, for almost five years, a cancer survivor. She was a hero and a champion of her faith. For some of us, our memories of her battle were incomplete. We could remember when she and her husband, Darell, would travel off to a distant hospital for surgery or chemotherapy or the stem cell transplant. We missed much of the struggle. We rejoined their story when they returned home. Now, from the front row, I was watching pictures that recorded those incredibly hard times when she was away. Each photo spoke of her incredible courage and longsuffering strength. They also told stories of tears, fatigue, and pain. Ron, a family friend and a photographer from the local paper, had lovingly and carefully documented each stage of their journey. “I thought you said we’d be fine,” Elder Bob whispered. “I thought wrong.” I turned away from the images – concentrating on my notes – hoping against hope that I could fulfill my duties that afternoon. As He so graciously does, God did provide both Bob and me with the words we needed and a measure of tranquility. When we were sitting once again, the second presentation rolled. It was a beautiful collection of video brought together by Nellie, a friend of the family. There were times for laughter and sadness. The way the message was presented was a glorious testimony to Maryanne’s family and the way that they walked together over the years of pain and suffering. I was unprepared for the final clip. Maryanne sat gazing into the camera with those big brown eyes. The ones that captivated Darell so many years ago. The ones that welcomed visitors to her home and eventually to her hospice room. Those eyes that would open to see Darell or one of her children or a dear friend. Those eyes that would say, even when her lips could not, “I’m glad to see you. I love you.” She began speaking with her eyes. Her voice was soft. Her words were for Darell. For the one who had been at her side for more than twenty years. For the one who led the parade in being positive. For the one who refused to accept setbacks like denial of insurance coverage for new procedures. For the one who was always there. For the one she loved. For just a few seconds, we were all eavesdropping while Maryanne talked to Darell. “I could have never made it through this life without you.” Maryanne and her family heaped blessings on all of us through the way they faced adversity. And particularly in the way that they included us in those final years and months and days and minutes. Even if the cameras hadn’t captured it all, we would have already known of the love that spilled out of that marriage and that family. We would have known of Maryanne’s love for God and for all of us as His children. A long line of well-wishers crowded by the open casket, stopping to speak and to hug the family. The family said their touching good-byes. In the back of the limousine on the way to the cemetery, Elder Bob and I talked about the impact of Maryanne’s life and witness on us all – how God had spoken through her. I told Elder Bob that I thought we would be fine. How we thank God, who gives us victory over sin and death through Jesus Christ our Lord! So, my dear brothers and sisters, be strong and steady, always enthusiastic about the Lord’s work, for you know that nothing you do for the Lord is ever useless. (1 Corinthians 15:57-58) About the author: Joey Cope (Dr. Joe L. Cope) is the executive director of the Center for Conflict Resolution at Abilene Christian University. He teaches graduate courses in advanced conflict management, negotiation and mediation. The work of the Center includes mediation/intervention services and educational offerings through seminars, conferences and special courses designed for businesses, non-profit organizations, and churches. Cope is an attorney and received his certificate in dispute resolution from Pepperdine University School of Law. Cope is an elder of the Highland Church of Christ in Abilene, Texas.