Let Him In!

                 

Jack was jogging through his local county park one grey afternoon when he felt an intense pain run down his left arm. Slowing his pace he turned down a wooded path that led back to his car. The light grew dimmer, and then, much to his surprise, the sun appeared and he noticed a wall on each side that he’d never seen before. At the end was a white gate, then a green garden filled with sunshine.

When Jack reached the gate a kind-faced woman opened it, smiled and said, “Welcome Jack. I’m Marie. They’re expecting you. Please sit over by the flowering tree and someone will be right with you.”

Then she walked about 30 yards, went through a door in a hedge, and was gone.

Jack knew he should be disturbed by these strange circumstances, yet he wasn’t. He felt uncommonly relaxed. He was wondering what tree produced such colorful and fragrant blossoms, and where his car had gone, when a young handsome man approached him. 

“Welcome, Jack,” he said. “I’m Elias. I just want to ask you a few questions and your escort will take you to your room. Do you have any favorite colors?”

“Well, I really like yellows, bright blue and white. But why do you want to know?” asked Jack. 

”We’re getting  your place ready for you,” Elias said as he made notes in a file folder. “What view do you prefer: woods, fields, mountains, lake?” 
“Lake, please,” said Jack. “But tell me, why am I here? Am I dead?” 
“Not anymore,” Elias said.“You had a heart attack on the jogging path. When you walk through the door in the hedge you will enter unending life. There is just one thing you will do before you go to that door. It is our custom here to let the newest arrival greet the next arrival, as Marie greeted you. I’ll stay here with you until he arrives.”

Jack couldn’t tell how long they waited. It seemed to him that time was no longer important. He felt content and joyful like never before. He wanted to sit there forever. Then he heard steps approaching the gate. Elias took out another file and said, “This is Mike. Please open the gate and let him in.”

Jack happily walked toward the gate, but when he saw Mike, everything changed.

A volcano of fear, grief, hate and anger erupted inside Jack. He reheard the shouts, the shots, the explosive crash, saw the blood everywhere and felt the cold face of the friend he loved.

“No!” he cried. “No! I can’t let him in. Elias, don’t you know what he did?”

Elias’s eyes spoke understanding, but his voice was steady and low. “No, I don’t know.”

“Don’t you have his record?” insisted Jack incredulously.

“No, we don’t. All records were destroyed by our Lord.”

“There must be a record somewhere,” Jack insisted.

“Oh, yes, there is, but it’s not here.  The Accuser has it. He saves everything.”

“The Accuser?”

“Yes, the Accuser. In Hebrew he’s called Satan.”

“Wait, you have some records. When I got here you knew my name and some of my history.”

“Oh, yes, of course we know some things, like when you started to follow the Lord.  Let me see. Michael Sullivan.  Born again April 18, 2021, McCreary Prison, Lexington, Kentucky.”

“You have prisoners here?!” Jack exclaimed.

“Oh, no! We don’t imprison anyone. That would be the other place. So, are you going to let him in?”

“Look, I don’t see why I am under any obligation to open the door for Mike. That would be like saying I forgive him for what he did to me.”

“Precisely”

“But I never agreed to that.”

“Oh, but you did.  Thousands of times.”

“Thousands of times? When?”

“Did you ever pray the prayer the Lord taught his disciples?” Elias asked. “You call it the Lord’s Prayer.”

“Of course I’ve prayed it.  Ever since I was a kid.  We even used to pray it in school when I was little. What’s that got to do with this?”

After a pause, Elias continued, “Did you pray ‘forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us?’”

After a long silence Jack admitted he had.

“Well, then,” Elias said.  “Forgive Mike the way our Lord has forgiven you…totally.”

“But that’s impossible,” Jack wailed.

“God never asks us to do impossible things. Hard, but not impossible.”

“But, can’t I ask God to forgive me even if I can’t forgive Mike?”

“Let me ask you something, Jack. Do you remember the story of the prodigal son? Even when his father begged him, the older son refused to join the party.

Jack quickly glanced at Mike, waiting to be let in, and nodded.

“Do you still have the letter?” Elias asked.

Jack knew what letter Elias meant, the letter from the Victim-offender Reconciliation Program at the prison. 

“Look,” continued Elias. “the door to unending life is right over there. It’s called forgiveness. It’s not called, “I forgive” or “I’m forgiven”  it’s simply called “forgiveness.”  You either want to go there, or you don’t. As soon as you let Mike in you can go together.”

Jack shook his head. “I can’t. I’m not ready.  I need more time.”

“You want more time, Jack?” Elias asked.

Jack nodded.

“Granted.”

Jack felt his body lift and fall. Glaring lights blinded him.  He heard a “beep, beep, beep” over his head.

“He’s back,” exclaimed a woman in blue scrubs.

‘Oh, no!” thought Jack. “What have I done?”

***********************

Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you. Ephesians 4:32

And whenever you stand praying, forgive, if you have anything against anyone, so that your Father also who is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses. Mark 11:25

Red and Yellow, Black and Blue

“Red and yellow, black and blue….”

My three year old granddaughter was holding her newborn brother for the first time. We were  taking cute shot after cuter shot, when she stopped “saying cheese” for  us and looked into her tiny brother’s face.   

Giving him a sweet little-mom smile she started softly singing, “Jesus loves the little children, all the children in the world, Red and yellow, black and blue, they are…”  Her little voice stopped, looking for words to finish. “I don’t know what the words are,” she said.

My son, her dad, did a quick rewrite and sang with her, “Red and yellow, black and blue, they are precious to Him, too. Jesus loves the little children of the world.”

“Red and yellow, black and blue” makes me recall how many bruises my boys had as they grew.  They both gave themselves black eyes as they learned to walk.  And one of them had so many black and blue marks on his legs from learning to ride a bike, I was sure his pediatrician would look suspiciously at me.  When I told him that, he assured me the bruises did not fit patterns of abuse. 

We don’t want to think about how many children wear those patterns of abuse. My office in a medical center was across the hall from the emergency room, One afternoon a badly bruised four year old was brought in.  Our hearts broke when he died. Red and yellow, black and blue, they are precious to him, too.  

I know an EMT who was called to revive a 3 month old who had been thrown against a wall.  I know a teacher whose middle school student was hit and pushed by his mother until he suffered a brain injury and died   And I’ve seen the photos of late-term babies after abortions ended their short lives, their baby skins darkly bruised.

Black and blue, they are precious to him, too.

We can be tempted to ask God why, if he loves them, he lets these abuses happen. 

I think God however asks us, why, since he values them so much, we let these abuses happen.

Every child I just mentioned was in a situation that was known to be dangerous to the child.  Someone could have intervened and chose not to, for fear of their own safety or livelihood.

Black and blue in many ways, we are all broken.

My granddaughter’s sweet pose with her baby reminded me of a famous statue that moved my heart when I saw it many years ago, Michelangelo’s “Pieta.”  If any mother ever held an abused and bruised child, it was Mary holding the lifeless body of Jesus.

God took on flesh and suffered with every beaten kid, thrown toddler and aborted baby. Black and blue, they are precious to him, too.

The prophet Isaiah says,”He lifted up our illnesses, he carried our pain;… He was wounded because of our rebellious deeds,
crushed because of our sins;
he endured punishment that made us well;
because of his wounds we have been healed.”

Because Jesus rose from death I know that, in the end, there will be justice for every abused child.  But there is also forgiveness offered for every abuser and every bystander who watched in silence. Everyone who wants to be healed, will be.

“Jesus died for all the children, all the children of the world. Red, brown, yellow, black and blue, they are precious to him, too.  Jesus died for all the children of the world.”

***************

Scriptures: Isaiah 53:4-5 (NET )

Katie’s Cookies

When my sons were very little I brought home from the grocery story a Sesame Street book that held a recipe for Cookie Monster cookies.  The recipe page had cute illustrations of Cookie Monster throwing all the ingredients in a large bowl and stirring them up with a huge fork.  We followed his lead and thus began a family tradition of Cookie Monster cookies for Christmas.

Year after year we bought more and more cookie cutters and thrust them into rolled out dough – tin soldiers, doves, Santa’s sleigh, snow men, Christmas trees and such. Icing, sprinkles and edible silver balls completed the sweet joys.

And then came the year Katie died.  We knew she was struggling health-wise, but her death just before Christmas and her 11th birthday, shook us with unexpected grief.  Her parents chose to receive Katie’s mourners in their home.  And so, with beautiful Katie’s still body resting in the living room, we were going to gather in the kitchen to share tears and food.

What should I bring? I peered in the fridge and saw the bowl of cookie dough. Inspiration hit and I started rolling dough and cutting out crosses and angels.

Arriving at Katie’s house I handed the plate of cookies to her mom and said,  “These are resurrection cookies.” 

Every Christmas since we have baked crosses and angels to celebrate Katie’s life and coming resurrection.

I wonder if the same angel who went to the shepherds with the news of great joy also greeted Jesus’s mourners.

Maybe the angel who told young Mary she would bear a son also told her,“Do not be afraid, for I know that you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here, for he has risen, as he said.”

“Do not be afraid.”   

“Do not be afraid.”

“Do not be afraid,” the angels say again and again.  

Do not be afraid because there was a cross, and Jesus did die and live again.

“Don’t be afraid, for look, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people: Today in the city of David a Savior was born for you, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

A Savior was born for Katie.  

A Savior was born for you.

If you roll out some cookie dough this week, I hope you make crosses and angels, 

because Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die. Do you believe this?”

Do you believe this?  Then rejoice and do not be afraid.  

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Scripture references: Luke 2:10,11; Matthew 28:5,6

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