Over the next few weeks Chuck and I will add some joint posts on our blogs. This one is from Chuck.

"All you have to do is preach through Hebrews 11 and I'll do the rest." Sharon had just shared one of our dreams with me. She loved Hebrews 11 and wanted to write a book on what she called "God's Waiting Room." She also wanted us to co-author the book. She said my task would be to research and preach on each character in the chapter. She would condense the preaching into book form.

I responded, "As long as all I have to do is preach. Yes, I can do that."

It was fun to see how excited she was as we mapped out a timeline and talked through the process we would follow.

As the sermon series unfolded and Sharon transcribed every message and organized the material, we began to see that preaching doesn't always lend itself to writing. This process would be much more difficult than we expected. I preached fourteen sermons on Abraham alone. This promised to be a grueling process.

Anyone who writes books knows that publishing dates often get moved up. But this was not an option for us. Every year the Women in the Church of the Presbyterian Church in America recommends a small group Bible study . That year they were holding a national conference and would introduce our book as the recommended small group study for that following year. Our publisher endorsed our plan and we committed to a detailed timeline for getting finished chapters to our editor. While it was difficult we met every deadline.

Through circumstances beyond our control, the publication of the book was delayed. The Women in the Church leadership told our publisher that if it was not in their offices by a specific date, they would not be able to recommend it as the small group Bible study.

Suddenly we had about two months to edit, finalize and publish not only the book but a detailed Leaders Guide. The editing process had not even begun. Anyone with any sense knew that we were embarking on an impossible task. But everyone involved agreed it was worth trying.

Let the writing marathon begin. Every few days we received two edited chapters from our publisher., one for the book and one for the Leaders Guide. After a couple of weeks of non-stop writing that started earlier every day and lasted until late at night, I knew Sharon could not keep up this pace. One of the themes of the book was cultivating community and becoming channels of God's compassion. I told Sharon she needed to practice what she was preaching. Ask two of her writing friends to help her write the Leaders Guide. These two women joined the writing team and their fingerprints are all over the Leaders Guide. We wouldn't have met our deadline without them.

Fifty-seven sermons and months of intense writing later, Treasures of Faith: Living Boldly in View of God's Promises arrived in the offices of the Presbyterian Church in America in time to meet the deadline. That fall it was introduced to several thousand women at the conference in Atlanta as the recommended Bible study for the year.

This book is filled with in-depth Bible study that gets the reader into the skin of each person in our spiritual family. Sharon says that sometimes she couldn't see the keyboard or computer screen as she wrote because of how emotionally connected she felt to the biblical person she was writing about.

We are offering Treasures of Faith at a reduced price and including an Introductory CD interview in which Sharon and I talk about the writing process and this study. Click here to order. We also have a Small Group Study Package that includes 10 books, 10 Bonus CD's and a FREE Leaders Guide for a savings of $78 off the retail price.

This book traces our spiritual family tree and will change the way you think about your spiritual roots. For more details visit our Treasures of Faith book page

Remember Sharon's promise that all I would have to do is preach? Not. I'll share more about the book in the next few weeks.

In His Grip,
Dr. Chuck Betters

Our daughter, Heidi Nequist, poignantly describes an impact of death that many experience but is often hidden from view. Perhaps her thoughts will reveal quiet opportunities for us to reach out and touch a broken heart that is trying to find its way back to the lap of God.

There were two instances this week in which I was reminded of the aftermath that death leaves in it's wake. There are the obvious broken hearts, the extreme loss, the empty arms, the grave, and the intense longing for heaven for those who know Jesus. And most people expect these things from the family of the one who has died...but I continue to be amazed that death touches so many...it spreads it's evil tentacles and grabs whoever it can and tries to destroy them. On Sunday, I was speaking with someone about a matter completely unrelated to death in anyway. She was sharing with me about how certain things have rocked her faith over the years. This is someone I consider to be a spirital rock and someone I have always looked up to. She was talking about divorce and how the concept of Christians divorcing has always scared her. She said that when it happens to someone she knows, she questions God and asks what will protect HER from the same thing? She paused and looked at me, and with tears in her eyes stated: "It's like after your brother died...my faith was rocked." She went on to say that she had felt that bad things happened to people as the result of their faith being weak, or the result of their own personal sin. She felt like she could keep bad things from happening. Then, when my brother died, she said that changed everything. She realized that there was nothing she could do to keep her world from falling apart. She shared with me that after Mark died, she didn't come to church for NINE MONTHS! I was shocked! I had NO idea. She said she felt that if God could do this to our family, who had given their whole lives to the work of the kingdom, then surely no one was safe or protected by the God we serve, who claims to love us. The aftermath of death.....lack of faith, the warmth of our Father's arms gone because of our pain, and our inability to absorb the shock of the death. 16 years later we are still hearing about the destruction and aftermath of our grief that was shared by so many.

Then, tonight, I was reconnected with someone I had lost touch with....thanks to Facebook! I had been an influence in her life, and I think of her all the time. I wonder where she is, what she's doing, if she's living out the things she was taught in her brief stay under the influence of the church. She was a foster child of a family I knew. During that time, the foster father died a terrible, painful, and slow death. The only father she had ever known was gone. The only man who had ever shown her love, instead of hate, was gone. And with him, death took her safety. Her life changed dramatically after he died. She ended up on her own again, in many ways by her own doing. She lost all her relationships, she went back to old ways. I asked her tonight if she was happy. No, she isn't. She said, "My dad would be so disappointed in me. I never would have lived this life if he had lived." The aftermath of death.....lack of faith, the warmth of our Father's arms gone because of our pain, and our inability to absorb the shock of the death. I cried as I chatted with her on Facebook and wished it had been different. I wished that I had been in a position to love her and show her the love of Jesus. I wished that I could've touched her more deeply so that my words would've been enough to overcome the grief that was her life. But, I couldn't...I wasn't the one....but there was one. And he suffered the ultimate grief....his own excrutiating death on the cross. As I was chatting with her a song came on the radio....."Come to Jesus.....Come to Jesus...." This song, sang at the funeral of 11 year old Ashley will forever haunt me. It will forever conjure up the images of a broken Daddy and Mommy wailing in agony for their baby girl. It will forever speak to the deepest part of my soul. And tonight, as I chatted across the country with a girl who stole my heart years and years ago, the song played on my computer....."come to Jesus....come to Jesus...."

-- Heidi's blog, My life...in print! Is a record of her personal battle to discipline her body. She transparently shares how she has lost over 100 pounds and the continuing war to maintain her healthy body. In keeping with her theology to share what God has taught her with others, she is now a personal trainer and helps other women find their way back to a healthy body. Heidi is a loyal friend to many and her compassion and desire to equip, energize and enable others to experience God's grace is evident in the way she offers God's treasures of encouragement. Can you tell, I'm very proud of our daughter!

In His Grip with you,
Sharon

A friend described our community's enforced homebound status as "life's pause button." I love that concept! Historic snow falls in the northeast captured the nation's attention this past week. No sooner had we dug ourselves out of two feet of snow than the weather channel warned that another major blizzard would hit us four days later. One weatherman expressed the emotional reaction of many with a live meltdown. Click here to check it out. . .

Yes, this weather is a disaster for some as tree limbs and power lines crashed and caused power outages for thousands. God bless the snow plow drivers, EMT's and thousands of workers who struggled to keep our infra-structure working. And many are nursing aching backs and sore muscles from all the shoveling. A downside to a blizzard for sure. But somehow the reaction of many to the snow house arrest seems different than in previous years.

Chuck and I took advantage of the enforced hunkering down and finished home projects that have long cried for attention. I found old recipes and prepared comfort foods that I rarely serve because they take too much time. We enjoyed leisurely mornings in the sunroom, watching the snow fall and ravenous birds empty the birdfeeders. A new friend blessed us when he stopped by to dig out our sidewalk and finish the driveway. I've been wondering why this enforced "house arrest" feels different than previous snowbound days. I think I've found the answer.

God bless the technology of Facebook. Though physically disconnected, we enjoyed community and friendships as soon as our President described the coming blizzard as a snowcalypse. Friends and family started posting snow fall amounts, pictures outside their front doors, funny videos of attempts to build snowmen, navigate the deep snow, create igloos and stories of neighbors helping neighbors. Moms shared how they are coping with restless children (or not!), recipes for crock pot meals and snow ice cream, quiet moments with a good book, and the joy of a nap on a snowy day. Encouragement and joy is contagious and who could resist the fun and joy of so many happy reports? I bet many moms and dads pulled back their impatience and decided to create some fun memories with their children because a friend described their happy snow activities.

Laughter is contagious and unleashes all sorts of good endorphins. Enjoy that kind of emotional high when you laugh at this very funny original piece called "Snow on the Ground" by our friend, Michael Shannon. [NOTE: Must have Facebook account and be logged in to view.]

I love this snow blizzard pause button. We know that God will touch the "play" button and we'll have to jump back into normal life once more. In the meantime, let's enjoy this "pause that refreshes."

Keep sharing those fun stories, videos and pictures. You're encouraging me to soak up God's awesome creation in a new way.

And for all who have cabin fever and are desperate for spring, take hope from this beautiful video. [NOTE: Must have Facebook account and be logged in to view.]

In His Grip,
Sharon

Thanksgiving in America is over. Christmas is a few weeks away. Let the games begin! Does your to do list include simplifying your days so that you can focus on the "real meaning of Christmas?"

If so, subscribe to this blog right now and you'll receive in your email box FREE frequent, brief treasures of encouragement that will help you simplify Christmas so that you don't miss the spiritual richness of this moment in time that forever changed our world. The FREE subscription option is located at the top left hand corner of this blog. Be sure to confirm your subscription once the confirmation email reaches your Inbox.

Last year I posted Twelve Days of Christmas Grief Relief with hopes that my thoughts might encourage grieving families as they tried to find a new normal without their loved ones during the holidays. If you or a friend is struggling with how to find meaning in this "most wonderful time of the year" when your heart is breaking, I urge you to check out those posts.

This year, I'm focusing on Simply Christmas Treasures of Encouragement. Each post will be a brief devotional that encourages readers to think through how they will reflect Christ as they prepare for Christmas. Along with some of my personal musings, I'll share some links to online resources that have helped me grow as well as some video clips from our annual Christmas TEA where women share how they are striving to simplify Christmas.

The posts will officially start on December 8. Help me spread the word about these posts by forwarding this blog post to friends and family with an invitation to subscribe. Remember, it's FREE encouragement!

Don't forget to place your order for Chuck's new book, Harlots and Heroines, The Midwives of the Messiah. And here's a secret. Use HHGIFTSET for a 20% discount on the gift set that includes an autographed copy of the book and our son, Chuck's solo piano CD, My Heart's Cry. Or, use HHBOOK for a 30% discount on just the book. The discount applies to as many books or gift sets that you want. The code is case sensitive and the discount ends December 31.

If your heart resonates with the goal of keeping Christmas simple, I hope you'll share your ideas in the comment section of the blog posts. Let's help each other to think, Simply Christmas Treasures of Encouragement!

In His Grip,
Sharon

"I hate Christmas. I wish I could skip over to the end of January and be done with it. I don't put up decorations and I refuse to listen to the music. It's just too hard to face without my child." My friend's words took me back to Christmas, 1993. Our first Christmas without our son, Mark. Oh, the anguish.

Before that awful year, I loved Christmas. I looked forward to after Christmas sales and started thinking about the best gift for each child months before the event. I baked more cookies than anyone could eat and we always had a big Christmas Eve Open House before the Communion service. The more people, the better. And those were the days I wouldn't let anyone bring anything - this was my thank you to all of our friends and family. We always invited hurting people, too. Of course, I drove my children and husband a little nutty but that's a confession for another time.

On July 6, 1993, that horrible night on our way home from the hospital, Chuck grabbed my hand and whispered, "Christmas, what will do about Christmas?" The reality of life without Mark was already slamming into our hearts. We knew that this most precious season of the year would never hold the same anticipation or joy of previous family gatherings. There would always be an empty seat. How, how, how would we face that empty place?

A few days ago, I played Christmas music while I cleaned. One of my tricks to easing into the holidays. As I dusted I heard the haunting rendition of The Little Drummer Boy. Mark was a drummer and this song is now his song. That first Christmas without him I imagined his first Christmas in heaven, playing his drums for Jesus. I look for a different drummer boy Christmas decoration every year. Hmm, I thought as the music played, I can hear this song without tears. I must be getting a little better. I thought once more of Mark in heaven, and wondered what he is doing right now. I imagined all of heaven preparing for Christmas! What must it be like to worship perfectly? To have no selfish motives in offering our gifts and talents to our King. I imagined our son welcoming friends we've "lost" this past year and connecting with the children of bereaved parents who have reached out to us in their fresh sorrow. What must it be like? Are they laughing with joy that their parents are choosing to trust God in their sorrow? Are they part of that great cloud of witnesses, cheering us on, urging us to faith, to reflect the joy of knowing Christ, even in the darkness?

Yes, my friend's sad, angry words were my words for many years. And I admit, there are moments that I still dread Christmas. I've never recaptured that fun anticipation. Some days I want to run away to a warm place and pretend Christmas is over. But then I remember those early years and how Christmas forced me to meditate on that first Holy Night. How my heart resonated with the heart of Mary's, the mother of Jesus. And how a light of understanding slowly glowed brighter and brighter as I began to reflect on God's gift of His Son for sinners like me. Of all the ways God could choose to demonstrate His love for us, He chose the parent/child relationship. What tighter, more intimate connection is there between a parent and child (when that parent loves as God designed)? What greater ripping is there for a human being than to have their child forcefully taken from their arms? Studies have shown that the worst crisis human beings can experience is the sudden loss of their children. It is no mistake that God keys in on this truth when He sacrifices His Son for His adopted children.

When I question God's love for me and how He could put me on this pathway, Christmas reminds me that the One Who gave me Jesus sent this dark place my way. I do not understand why, but I do understand He gave what I would never willingly give. He gave His Son to people who didn't want Him. What greater love is there?

And so, I miss Mark. And after my moments of rejoicing that I could hear The Little Drummer Boy without crying, the tears starting flowing. Oh, how I miss my child. Many of my sweet friends are experiencing deep, deep grief this season. And so this is for you, my dear friends. You are so fresh in your sorrow - even those of you who are seven years into the journey. I know this because I've been in that place.

Your heart will always long for your child. A piece of you will never be satisfied without him or her. But hear me on this. That's a good thing. Let that broken place drive you to the manger and carry you to the Cross. Get inside the Father's heart as you look at that little boy, our brother, Jesus, sent to die for the sins of His brothers and sisters.

Do not apologize for your tears but also give yourself permission to experience moments of joy. Look for the treasures that He will send your way, open your hands to receive the gifts He has designed to help turn your heart toward Him, to remind you that He is the Lord your God, the One Who calls you by name.

I am a credible witness of His faithfulness. God is sovereign and you can trust Him. I'm praying for you to experience Christmas Presence this year. His presence.

Don't forget to subscribe to the RSS feed by clicking on the link in the left menu. This will sign you up for receiving blog posts via email as soon as they are posted.

In His Grip,
Sharon

For more on Sharon's Christmas thoughts, order Treasures in Darkness: A Grieving Mother Shares Her Heart.

Man Up! That's the title of Chuck's current sermon series. The men in our congregation are listening carefully as the words of the Apostle Paul to young Timothy take on current day application (2 Timothy). Though the subject is men, women are also listening and the scriptural truths for men are just as important for us. Yet, it's tempting for women in the congregation to poke their husbands in the ribs when a specific truth seems to be just for her man.

At the end of Sunday's message, Chuck switched gears and spoke to women. In the sermon he had described a special relationship with an elderly woman in our second church. Chuck and I were both about twenty-five years old when he was appointed as pastor of Logan United Methodist Church in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Yes, we were babies trying to do a grown up job! And this was our second church assignment. He took on the job of pastor in our first dying city church when he was twenty-one years old. He had been a Christian for one year. Chuck often calls those early years in ministry our school master. Yes, we were babies!

After our first Sunday in our second dying city church, Chuck came home and cried. This was not what he signed up for. Where to begin? We had about thirty people, all over 70 (or so it seemed) in a huge stone church building. We had been told that the music ministry was strong. We learned that day that the music ministry consisted of a great organist playing a majestic pipe organ, a choir director and three very elderly people in the choir. No children and no outreach. One of the leaders told Chuck that our new church was three dying churches that had merged and the hearse was backed up to the door. Until Chuck arrived - no pressure, though.

We would have done almost anything to have at least two other well-grounded young people to help build God's kingdom in this dying city. Early on God gave Chuck Mrs. D. Margaret Kelley. She was an elderly, almost blind woman who saw her calling as a prayer warrior for Chuck. He has many stories about Mrs. Kelley (you can hear one of them in his message, Do You Have a Gangrene Mouth? But his most coveted memory is that she encouraged him as a young, inexperienced pastor and she prayed for him.

At the end of Sunday's message Chuck asked us, the women: "Are you praying for your men? I don't mean superficial stuff, I mean real, heart, gut-wrenching praying? Are you taking your men to God through prayer and pleading with Him to strengthen and guide the men in your life? Are you praying for the leadership of your church? Are you a Mrs. Kelley or are you the woman who finds fault and has a critical spirit and has nothing but negative words? Encourage your men with prayer."

Over the past few years we have lost some of our most precious prayer warriors, men and women who took on the burden of praying for Chuck and our sons as they worked in full-time ministry. When they died, I felt a hole in our spiritual covering and asked God to burden others with the need to pray for their spiritual leaders. I am confident God has people praying for us daily or we would not be able to function in His work.

Over the years I have not always known how to pray. My desires may not have been God's and so instead of praying my words, I have prayed scripture, specific scriptures for the members of my family, for our church leadership, and for friends. I personalize the scripture:

And this is my prayer for Chuck: that his love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that he may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ filled with the fruit of righteousness, that comes through Jesus Christ - to the glory and praise of God. Philippians 1:9-11.

I pray Psalm 112 for our sons and grandsons and Proverbs 31:10 - 31 for our daughters and granddaughters. I prayed Psalm 121 for our granddaughter, Siddhi, as we waited for God to bring her to us from India. I included my niece, Elizabeth, as she served God abroad in a third-world country. I continue to pray Psalm 121 for our grandson, Cori, who is in the Navy. Psalm 122 is my prayer for our local church and leadership.

When I pray scripture for those I love, my own agenda melts away and God opens my hands to receive His will. I think that this is one means He shapes our desires into His desires.

Are you praying for your men? Even if you're not married, there are men in your life who need you to pray - fathers, brothers, church leaders, pastors. Women, are you praying?

In His Grip,
Sharon

The bad report about a friend stunned me. Without hesitation, I believed it. Anger, sadness, disappointment. All of those emotions followed me around the house as I prepared for a busy day of running errands and catching up on undone tasks. I threw my purse and library books into the car, made sure I had my to do list and started to back out of the driveway.

That morning I had studied Psalm 32 and 33 and was struck by a picture of God's love resting on me and surrounding me. I had committed to viewing the circumstances of that day through the grid of God's surrounding love. I was eager to see how practical the presence of God's love would be in every day details. Frankly, I was looking forward to a warm, fuzzy intimacy with Him, maybe a parking space in the crowded mall, a great price for a purchase...you know, fun things. God had another agenda.

Before I turned onto our street, something other worldly happened. I heard a voice or a thought, not sure exactly, "Sharon, my love rests on you. My love surrounds you. How will that truth change the way you respond to this bad report?"

Yes, God had another agenda. My first opportunity to choose God's way, not mine. Was my friend guilty as charged? What was the evidence? Another person's words? What was the "reporter's" agenda? Before you rebuke me for listening to gossip, the "reporter" wasn't gossiping. Trust me on that. Another scripture came to mind:

The first to present his case seems right, till another comes forward and questions him. Proverbs 18:17

For forty years I've been a pastor's wife and I'm confident that many bad reports have been shared about my husband's ministry. And I'm sure that many are the words spoken about my own fallacies and mis-steps. I've always hoped that when those reports are given that the hearer would step back and think, "I won't believe this until I see the evidence." At the least I hoped for an opportunity to give our side of the story or explain our behavior or even ask forgiveness for hurting another and righting the wrong. I hoped for mercy and compassion.

Yet in those first moments after hearing the bad report about my friend, I did none of those things. I jumped to judgment.

God's love surrounded me in those moments because He used the bad report as spiritual sandpaper to reveal my own dark heart. How many times have I believed a bad report about another person, with no thought for how hurt she or he would be if they knew I did not believe the best (1 Corinthians 13)? How many times has an unsubstantiated bad report unfairly influenced my relationship with another person? How many opportunities to share hope and help in Jesus have I missed because I pre-judged another woman? How often do I treat such reports with a casualness that diminishes the value of the other person's life?

I should know better. James tells me (and I've taught it so many times) that the tongue is a fire that fills the body with great evil. He gives me hope in that he declares none of us can tame it, that we will stumble. But he also warns me to beware of this great potential for evil and that only by God's grace can we find any victory over our tongues. I felt such guilt over my initial reaction. What to do? Repent and choose to believe the best. Fortunately I had not repeated this bad report to anyone else.

You may wonder if the initial bad report was true. For this discussion, it doesn't matter. What matters is that in that moment God's love gave me a choice: automatically believe the worst or choose to withhold judgment until all the evidence is in.

That's how I hope others will treat me. And I know that's how my friends hope I will protect them. God's love surrounds me whether I treat others with compassion or not. And sometimes that love is the voice of discipline as my Father takes my face in His hands and rebukes me for choosing evil over His righteousness. May God (and my friends) have mercy on me as I continue to learn what it means to be His daughter.

In His Grip,
Sharon

I laid in bed this morning thinking through the next week and tried to determine how to fulfill all the tasks on my to do list. To accomplish my goals, I had to stay focused on my responsibilities. God smiled at my thoughts for He had other plans.

My wonderful husband Chuck asked me where all of our old pictures are. He had read something online about the need to preserve them. Because of our life journey, our old pictures are priceless. We lose them, we lose many evidences of our son, Mark. Browse the walls of our home and you will see many family pictures that record our lives. At some point, you might notice that after July, 1993, one person is absent, and that Mark is frozen in time as a sixteen-year-old boy. Every picture of him is a treasure. Sometimes I wish I could put out a notice to all of his high school friends that if they find pictures of Mark in their elementary and high school memorabilia that instead of throwing them out, would they please send them to us.

But I digress from my original thoughts. Chuck didn't know that a few years ago, when our daughter was into scrapbooking, I organized all of our old pictures by child and topic. Since my desk is always a picture of chaos, I was proud to inform him that I had all the old pictures safely stowed in boxes in my office closet. I pulled out the crates and called down, "Chuck, if you want to be overwhelmed, here they are."

I couldn't resist. Old albums that pre-dated our marriage drew me in. Along with old pictures that reminded us of our dating years and engagement, were ticket stubs from every University of Delaware football game we attended. Dried flowers and our wedding invitation took us back forty years to a season of innocence and anticipation of how we were going to change the world for Jesus.

The clock was ticking and nothing on my to do list could be erased. But still I pulled out pictures. Chuck went downstairs to look for more albums as I rummaged through boxes of Mark's belongings, carefully packed away over fifteen years ago. I found a metal box, labeled "My Stuff." In it was a silver bangle bracelet. Another time I will share the significance of this treasure of encouragement. I caressed the pirate bandana Mark wore with his raggedy jeans and leather boots and tried to recapture his scent, long gone. A treasure trove of pictures of Mark's growing up years broke the walls of emotion that I usually successfully hold in check. I whispered, "This isn't right. None of this is right. I want my son now. What would he be like as a grown up, a husband, a dad? What about his kids, our grandchildren? Oh, Jesus, help me trust you and thank you for the life we had with Mark rather than stay in my buried grief."

Instead of gratitude for the sixteen years, all I could see was loss. God answered by reminding me of the little hymn written by J.B. F. Wright in 1877. It's the same song He placed in my heart during our Cousins Camp last week as I observed our grandkids making memories that will last a lifetime. And today this little song is God's treasure of encouragement, written and designed by Him over 100 years ago as a treasure just for me. Instead of staying in my sorrow today, may I open my hands and heart to this gift sent to turn my heart toward my Father. May I rest in God's sovereign plan for our lives as well as Mark's. And may any grieving sister reading this take hope and courage from her precious memories as well.

And now, I MUST tackle that to do list!
In His Grip,
Sharon

God sent me a treasure of encouragement this morning, a gift designed to turn my heart toward Him and I am still stunned by its simplicity and potential for transforming this day from the mundane into the majestic.

The means by which He delivered this treasure reminded me of the priceless gift of covenant community experienced when God's women gather. Last night I enjoyed meeting with our small group that is studying Psalms. I soaked up the words and insights of my sisters as our leader guided us deeper into the truths of Psalm 32. We were daughters of the King enjoying a family gathering as we considered this "letter" from our Father. What difference would this study of confession and repentance make in our lives?

This morning I began working through our next assignment, Psalm 33. I picked apart the first few verses: Sing joyfully to the Lord, Praise the Lord with the harp; make music to Him, Sing to him a new song; play SKILLFULLY; SHOUT for joy.

The rest of the passage declared multiple reasons for me to joyfully proclaim with music, my words and my life, the goodness and unfailing love of God.

And there it was. That treasure of encouragement that helped turn my heart toward Him in a new way. "May your unfailing love REST upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in you. (Psalm 33:22)." I turned back to Psalm 32:10 and read, "Many are the woes of the wicked, but the Lord's unfailing love SURROUNDS the man who trusts in him." God's love RESTS on me; SURROUNDS me.

Have you ever watched the colors of a sunset spread out like a can of spilled paint? In that moment this morning, that's how God's love looked to me. In my mind I pictured a bucket of God's deep, pulsating passion for me, His daughter, resting on my head. And then with a smile, in a surprising move, He tipped it over and covered me, surrounded me with love that is unfailing, steadfast.

How do I take this moment into my day, I thought. I pictured the waiting tasks: a doctor's visit, errands, time with some of our grandkids, laundry, cleaning, preparing a meal for a friend. I started imagining how an intentional recognition of God's surrounding love could impact my response to the needs of the day, my interaction with cashiers and the doctor's staff, and our grandchildren or unexpected phone calls or emails. How could this treasure of encouragement from God Himself make me more like Jesus in my response to others?

My day looks different than it did a few hours ago because I'm more aware that God's love rests on me and surrounds me. I plan to look for evidence of that love wherever I go. I have a feeling I may be challenged with difficult circumstances, perhaps an irritating person, or a disappointment - only God knows (Psalm 33 reminds me of His sovereignty and that He considers everything I do). But this treasure of encouragement is equipping, enabling me and exhorting me to look for His love in those challenges. And then to display that love no matter what.

I have a feeling that God may be giving this same treasure to someone reading these words. If so, it's exactly what you need to help turn your heart toward Him. Are you His child? His love rests on you! His love surrounds you! May the adventure of seeing and experiencing that love begin right now!

In His Grip,
Sharon

Chuck and I joined the autumn ritual of cheering on our grandchildren as they ran up and down the soccer fields, each one displaying their unique personalities in the way they chased the soccer ball and interacted with team mates. Our son-in-law coached from the sidelines with these words to his five year old twins, "This is the one place you don't have to share! You get to keep the ball all to yourself. If someone tries to take it away from you, don't stand back and say, 'ok, you can have it!'" How do you teach sweet little ones that they must be selfish on the field?

Inner conflicting emotions vied for first place when I saw eight year old Benjamin in his soccer attire, run out onto the field. Benjamin closely resembles Mark and his job as goalie reminded me of Mark's goal tending career. Cheering on the outside, I privately pulled up the family videos archived in my heart. I smiled at the scenes of our little guys running the beehive play (the one where every child on the field hovers around the soccer ball), Chuck and me yelling encouragement from the sidelines and I quickly moved on to vignettes of Mark's growing sports prowess.

Mark was good at every sport he tried but sometimes his mind played tricks on his natural ability. His Little League coaches depended on his big bat for homeruns based on the first few games of hitting homeruns. Then something inside would freeze his confidence and strike outs reigned. As an athlete himself, Chuck knew the only thing standing between his son and good solid hits was a mental block. I can see Chuck standing behind the backstop at home plate. He quietly talked Mark through each time at bat, giving calm step by step reminders of how to do what Mark already knew how to do. I held my breath with each swing and cheered wildly when Mark got on base or hit a homerun. Mark was known in his soccer league as a great goalie. He had what his team mates called a big foot! He could kick a soccer ball half way down the field and he was only twelve. So when he took up flag football, his coach assigned him the position of kicker. Everyone anticipated winning the season because of Mark's extraordinary ability to kick the ball accurately and far. Much to everyone's dismay, Mark froze up toward the end of the season. The pressure to perform was too much and once again, a mental block stood between him and victory. At Mark's request, Chuck coached him every evening in the backyard, examining his performance and then patiently counting out his steps, "Left, right, left, Kick!" Every time Mark listened, the ball soared and a big grin turned his anxious face into one of relief and hope.

The football season ended with championship games preceded by a kicking contest. Mark' Big Foot made him the natural choice to represent his team. As we stood on the sidelines, Mark's face revealed his fear and we watched his body freeze. What to do? We knew he could not kick the ball successfully without his dad's help. But we didn't want to embarrass him by calling out the necessary encouragement he needed. Mark practiced a few runs toward the ball, each time stopping short. He glanced our way but in his typical reticent manner, he did not ask for help. How could a 12-year-old boy embarrass himself by asking Daddy for help?

Mark's first two attempts in the contest were disappointing. His teammates and coaches held their breath as Mark set up for his third run at the ball. I prayed, "Lord, please, Energize that Big Foot!" I didn't care if he won, I just wanted him to do what he was able. Without looking at his father, Mark quietly asked, "Dad,count for me." Without a second's hesitation Chuck called out the count-down, "Left foot, right foot, left foot, KICK!" keeping time with Mark's run toward the ball. Boom, the football soared into the air. Marks' face broke into a thousand little smiles and the fans yelled as his teammates rushed toward our son, knowing he had just won the kicking contest.

Sometimes we need a little help from our Daddy but He knows it's best to wait until we know our need and we're ready to receive assistance. That morning Mark taught me the value of humility, of admitting my need to the One Who is always ready to count for me, to whisper step by step instructions in my ear and to cheer me on to victory that is sure to come when I listen to Him. I'm so glad Mark asked his daddy to count for him.

In His grip,
Sharon

Faithful friends with servant's hands not only encouraged me to keep moving but came alongside to help me do so. One special friend called every week to decide what project we would work on to get our house ready for our daughter's December wedding. She came alongside to help make decisions, paint, paper, redecorate. One day she organized a group of about ten people who did a summer's worth of yard work while others painted kitchen cabinets. They looked around, saw what needed to be done, and did it. They understood that we had no idea of what our needs were. They didn't say, "Call me if you need me." Most bereaved people will not respond to that message. It isn't that we aren't grateful. It's just that we are on emotional overload. Every bit of energy is being used for survival.

Friends stayed with us through the night of the accident and the days following. They prayed and wept with us, kept the coffee going, and made sure there was food in the house, plenty of paper goods, tissues in every room, and cold wet cloths for our faces. They kept lists of gifts, phone calls, and messages. They ironed shirts, put away clean clothes, took out the trash, watered and ran the dogs and watered the flower beds. All without asking what we needed them to do.

Others realized that we needed to be in charge of details concerning Mark, and they brought those decisions to us rather than making them for us.

Some people prefer privacy in their grief, but for us the constant flow of friends to our home satisfied our need for a physical expression of God's love. We needed to see their tears, feel their hugs, see the agony in their faces. Beautiful flowers and plants reminded us of the beauty of our son - now serving God in heaven. Parents who had lost children stepped back into their own pain to give us hope. Friends helped clean Mark's room and were with me when I found his prayer journal, further affirmation of his walk with Christ.

Galatians tells us to bear one another's burden so that we can bear our own burdens. IN the first few months of our grief, the body of Christ swept us up and carried us along. We were powerless to carry ourselves. Now as a result of their encouragement and strength, we are able to bear our own burdens.

After Mark's death, I questioned the sufficiency of God to help us survive. But God, in His grace, provided members of His body who believed in His sufficiency for us when we could not believe it for ourselves.

Grief is terrifying both to those experiencing it and those who have to watch it happen. We want to make it go away, but the Bible tells us there is a time to grieve. It is a natural process that leads to healing and wholeness.

Wise encouragers know they are there to facilitate the process, not stop it. For people who are problem solvers, this is a hard assignment. An understanding of God's sovereignty equips us for this job. Although circumstances do not make sense, God does, and He will supply whatever His children need.

From Treasures of Encouragement,Women Helping Women in the Church, pages 193 - 194.

What's your encouragement story?

May God give you a deepening sense of His presence as you offer His treasures of encouragement to others.

In His grip,
Sharon

When you're trying to encourage a hurting friend:

A sensitive heart will say...
~I love you.
~I'm so sorry this has happened.
~Nothing. (But give lots of hugs and shed lots of tears.)
~I'll be in touch (and follows through).
~I'm praying (and does).

A sensitive heart will...
~Listen.
~Allow her friend to express all emotions and not interject judgmental comments, especially in the beginning.
~Read books that teach her how to help.
~Keep visits short, unless the hurting friend insists she stay longer.
~Discern when her friend needs to be alone, but not allow her to isolate herself completely.
~Assure her friend that she is not crazy, just brokenhearted.
~Offer to find more help when she senses her friend is sinking.
~Acknowledge the pain.
~Give permission to talk about the loss.
~Stay in touch for the long haul with cards, phone calls, and special remembrances on anniversaries, birthdays, special holidays.
~Ask the Holy Spirit for specific Scripture to share at the right moment and trust God to use them as a healing balm.
~Offer to do menial tasks (but never disturb the possessions of a deceased person without permission - i.e. do not clean out his or her room, change the bed, etc.).
~Recognize that grief is a long process.
~Tolerate volatile outbursts and intense emotions.
~Not expect or demand thanks.
~Pray, pray, pray every time she thinks of her friend.

From Treasures of Encouragement, pages 191 - 192:

What's your encouragement story?

Next: More practical ways to offer encouragement to a hurting friend. Until then, may God give you a deep sense of His sweet presence as you offer to your hurting friends the treasures of His encouragement.

In His grip,
Sharon

I just learned of a horrific accident that took the life of a ten year old boy. His mother and sister are injured but will survive. This family desperately needs their friends and family to surround them with the hope and courage that only faith in Christ can give. I don't know this family but I can guarantee that their friends and family are feeling completely helpless to offer that hope and help this morning.

In every Q & A session I have during a conference, someone describes an accident like this and then asks, "How can we help this family?" And vignettes from the hours after the death of our son, Mark, and his friend, Kelly, flash in my soul, one gut-wrenching picture after another.

But fast-forward far enough and I begin to see the treasures of encouragement that God sent through His people to help turn our hearts toward Him. In my book, Treasures of Encouragement, I list things to not say and do as well as what to say and do. Below are things NOT to say and do. In my next post I'll list things TO say and do. If you don't need this list now, you will, so feel free to copy it and tuck it away for future ministry. Better yet, get a copy of Treasures of Encouragement, Women Helping Women in the Church and learn how thinking biblically prepares you to encourage others to trust God in the darkness.

From Treasures of Encouragement, pages 191 - 192:

A sensitive heart does not say:
~I understand.
~Call me if you need me.
~You can have more children, get married again, fill your life with other things, etc.
~I don't know what to do. (And then prove it by doing nothing.)
~God needed him more than you.
~God must really love you to put you through this.
~You have to get on with your life.
~Don't cry.
~Be strong!

A sensitive heart does not...
~Try to be always cheerful.
~Try to explain why.
~Think her grieving friend is crazy.
~Compare losses.

What's your encouragement story?

Next: What a sensitive heart will say and do.

Until then, may you experience God's special presence as you offer your friend the treasures of His encouragement.

In His grip,
Sharon