Page 10 of 22

CS Lewis on the Virus

March 14, 2020 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

One of my favorite writers, C.S. Lewis (author of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe), wrote an interesting few paragraphs 72 years ago. Even though his essay was written in light of the recently-dropped atomic bomb back in 1945, it is still relevant today. All we need to do is replace the words “atomic bomb” with “Coronavirus.”

I do believe all necessary precautions should be set in place and taken seriously, yet, we are still able to live in peace and not fear.

Fear and anxiety are more contagious than any virus.

John Eldredge

Below are Lewis’ wonderfully wise three paragraphs:

On Living in an Atomic Age (1948) by C.S. Lewis

In one way we think a great deal too much about the atomic bomb. “How are we to live in an atomic age?” I am tempted to reply: “Why, as you would have lived in the sixteenth century when the plague visited London almost every year, or as you would have lived in a Viking age when raiders from Scandinavia might land and cut your throat any night; or indeed, as you are already living in an age of cancer, an age of syphilis, an age of paralysis, an age of air raids, an age of railway accidents, an age of motor accidents.”

In other words, do not let us begin by exaggerating the novelty of our situation. Believe me, dear sir or madam, you and all whom you love were already sentenced to death before the atomic bomb was invented: and quite a high percentage of us were going to die in unpleasant ways. We had, indeed, one very great advantage over our ancestors – anesthetics; but we have that still. It is perfectly ridiculous to go about whimpering and drawing long faces because the scientists have added one more chance of painful and premature death to a world already bristled with such chances and in which death itself was not a chance at all, but a certainty.

This is the first point to be made: and the first action to be taken is to pull ourselves together. If we are all going to be destroyed by an atomic bomb, let that bomb when it comes find us doing sensible and human things – praying, working, teaching, reading, listening to music, bathing the children, playing tennis, chatting to our friends over a pint and a game of darts – not huddled together like frightened sheep and thinking about bombs. They may break our bodies (a microbe can do that) but they need not dominate our minds.

God is still the same today as He has been throughout eternity. The Coronavirus did not take Him by surprise, and it is only through Him that we are able to have peace in the midst of chaos and panic. God is still good, and Jesus comforts us with His own words:

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not be afraid. John 14:27

I pray for you as you stand strong in hope and peace.

Love, Mom

Spaghetti and Waffles

February 29, 2020 / Shari Baar / 4 Comments

Dear Daughters,

The book Men are like Waffles, Women are like Spaghetti is a fascinating metaphor highlighting the differences between men and women.

When you look at a waffle, you see a collection of little boxes each separated by walls. Every box is detached from the other and they all make convenient holding places. Apparently, this is typically how a man processes life. Their thinking is divided up into boxes that have enough room for one issue, but only one issue. One topic of life goes into the first box, the second goes in the second box, and on and on.

A typical man, says Bill Farrel, lives in one box at a time. When a guy is at work he is at work. When he is in the garage puttering around, he is puttering around. When he is watching TV….well you know the rest of that sentence. That’s why he looks as if he’s in a trance and ignores all else that goes around him. Psychologists call this compartmentalizing – that is putting each part of life into a different compartment.

Because of the waffle structure of their brains, men are problem solvers by nature. They enter a box, look at the problem and formulate a solution. A man strategically organizes his life to spend most of his life in the boxes in which he can succeed. If possible, he will ignore the boxes that confuse him or make him feel like a failure. For example, if a man feels like his career brings him success, he spends most of his time at work at the expense of the other boxes. If being home and communicating with his family is difficult, he will spend more time in front of the TV. It’s a safe and comfortable box.

When it comes to communicating, men will often talk only if they believe they can reach a desirable outcome. But if they see no point to the conversation quickly, they get frustrated and disengage.

Many men find it easy to develop hobbies that consume their time. If a man finds something he is competent at and makes him feel good about his life, he will pursue it relentlessly. He may get emotionally attached to fixing, building, and maintaining projects. If he is good at gaming, research, computers, or fishing, that will become his focus. He knows by experience what he gets back from these activities is predictable and safe, which can be much more certain than the outcome of a conversation with his wife.

So, says Bill and Pam Farrel, basically men spend most of their time doing what they do best while they attempt to ignore the activities which may cause them to feel deficient. It is challenging for them to jump from one box to another quickly.

The same day I read this interesting phenomenon about men’s brains, I decided to try it out for myself. Dad and I were working on making a Vistaprint family calendar for you girls. We have done this in the past and often ended up frustrated with each other because pictures conjure up all kinds of memories for me, but Dad wants to stay with the job of choosing the pictures and keep away from the inevitable walk down memory lane.

That night we needed to go through lots of pictures, narrowing down to 12 of our favorites. Ordinarily, I would comment on many pictures, talking about the memories that came up. I would say something like, Oh……that picture reminds me of the incredibly strong storm that came up on the lake and it was so fierce that we were out of power for 18 hours and the next day was my birthday so we went out to breakfast and later walked along Lake Michigan and…… This time, however, I decided to stay on the task at hand with no small talk. It was quite amazing how much more smoothly the process went when I let Dad stay in one box and not expect him to hop from one to another. The process was almost seamless and we got the job finished in record time.

In stark contrast to the waffle model of men, women process life more like a plate of spaghetti. Looking at a plate of pasta you notice that there are lots of individual noodles that touch one another. If you tried to follow one noodle around the plate, you would intersect with many other noodles and who knows, you might even switch to another noodle without knowing it. That’s typically how women face life. Every thought and issue is connected to every other thought and issue even though it may be only in some remote way. Life is much more of a process for women than it is for men.

This is why women are so much better at multitasking than men. We can cook dinner, nurse the baby, instruct older children to quit fighting and get the table set while planning the next days’ activities. Because all our thoughts, emotions and convictions are connected we can move almost seamlessly from one piece of information to another and keep track of more activities than our husbands.

We consistently love to talk things through as we solve problems and as we do, we connect the logical, relational, emotional and spiritual aspects of the issue. Men, however, want to stay in one box at a time. Trying to jump boxes is tiring and confusing for them. Pam Farrel gives the following illustration of how women tend to sum up their day:

Joan gets home and says,

“Honey, how was your day? I had a good day today. We just committed to a new educational wing at the university, and I have been asked to oversee the budget. I am so excited that they didn’t rule me out because I am a woman. You know women have been fighting for a place in society for decades, and it is good to see so much progress being made. I think it is neat that you treat the women who work for you with so much respect. Our daughter is so lucky to have you for a dad. Did you remember that Susie has a soccer game tonight? I think it is important we are there because the Johnsons are going to be there and I really want you to meet them. Susie and Bethany are getting to be good friends, and I think we should get to know her parents as well.”

As Joan is talking on and on her husband is getting lost, frantically trying to jump from one box to another in his waffle way of thinking. He simply cannot understand what the budget at the university has to do with Susie’s soccer game and their need to have a new friendship with the Johnsons.

God certainly has a sense of humor when we look at men and women in the light of waffles and spaghetti. Of course He created us this way on purpose so we could complement one another. Life would be quite boring if we were the same, even though at times it sounds like a good idea. But I think He must occasionally be chuckling as He watches us learn about each other and strive to communicate. Frustrations mount and sometimes anger erupts when we just don’t understand our men and they don’t get us, but that’s why we have a lifetime to learn.

So… I will have to ponder better how to communicate with my husband. I can see already why it is so important to have women friends and daughters to talk with, then our noodles can overlap in conversation and it’s all good. So thankful you are my friends as well as daughters.

Love, Mom

One Minute Pause

January 30, 2020 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

It is a gnarly time to be a human being. And God cares about your humanity…

John Eldredge writes these words, and gnarly is a great descriptor of the era in which we live. Twisted, rough, crooked, distorted, dangerous, hazardous, precarious, insecure – all are definitions for the word gnarly. And some days more than others, I am tempted to feel those emotions.

The origin of gnarly apparently came from surfers’ slang, from the appearance of a rough sea, where most of the waves are starting to break. Although I have body surfed during my younger days in Southern California, I have never desired to go out on a stormy day and catch the big waves in the ocean.

Whenever tempests of life come, they often have to do with people in your sphere of influence or decisions which clamor for your attention. Because John Eldredge understands people so well and the pain which all our souls endure, he and his team at Ransomed Heart Ministries have put together an amazing little app (and it’s free) to be a sanctuary in the chaos, a sort of lifeline on a stormy day.

I’ve shared it with many people in the last few weeks, so thought I’d share it with you as well. The app is built around several simple practices, the first which is,

Benevolent detachment – based on the verse:

Cast all your cares upon God, for He cares for you. 1 Peter 5:7

I love the word benevolent – kind, compassionate, tenderhearted. It sounds warm and loving. Yet when benevolent is paired with the word detachment, they almost seem like opposites. Jesus wants us to love people of course, and to care about the circumstances surrounding them, but He also wants us to understand what our part is and not usurp His role in their lives.

If you look at the life of Jesus, it’s how he lived. He loved well but was never dependent on people’s opinions – negative or positive – he simply cared deeply but never entangled himself in order to coerce or control.

What do you need to let go of, to benevolently detach from?

Your children?

Your parents?

The text you just received?

Your expectations of the perfect life you had hoped would someday appear?

Your worries about finances?

Your husband?

Your planning for the future?

The number of likes you received from your latest social media post?

The frustrations of your job?

So often I have the crazy idea that I’m in control of my world, I must figure stuff out on my own, and it’s up to me to make it work. But this verse reminds me that I don’t have to carry that load, and there’s no way I can. Jesus has offered to bear it all, so why not let Him?

There are many instances when we simply cannot fix our own or others’ problems. We can’t change other people, it’s actually quite tough to bring change in our own lives. But we can direct them to seek God and His wisdom, surrendering ourselves and others to Him.

The second practice of the One-Minute Pause App is:

Union with God – We were created to be in union with God, just as Jesus is one with the Father. Every distraction in the world is bent on getting us away from God, tempting us to trust in our money, in people around us, in our status. Other folks are not to be our saviors or our idols; our money is not our security – any one of these we could lose tomorrow.

Bottom line, all of this Union with God boils down to trust.

Do you trust that God loves you, that He cares about every detail of your life?

Do you trust that He loves your family more than you do?

There have been times when I have not believed, when I have doubted, when I thought I knew better than God what I needed. I actually thought I could do a better job than He, and I lived for years never consulting Him about anything. Ann Voskamp calls it practical atheism.

But then tough stuff happened, my life was not unfolding as I had hoped or could even imagine and I had no choice but to cast my cares on Jesus. I had to give up on my own wisdom, my own strength. Falling into the arms of God is the best decision I have ever made. Union with God – it is a safe place, an abode of peace and security.

The third practice of the One Minute Pause is:

Praying the River of Life – In our life today there is much fear, anxiety, worries about our health, our safety, the threat of war, death, and the loss of human relationships. How we need to pray for the River of Life – because the river of death is so prevalent all around us – to wash over us, surround and envelope us in His Love.

I’m amazed to see how much more aware I’ve become of my incessant and continual need for God. After using the One Minute Pause for a few months, I have found a beautiful reprieve from thinking too much about the past, learning to find joy in the present and not worrying about the future. I have learned to tether my soul to Him and not be pulled to and fro like waves on the ocean.

If you desire an oasis in the middle of your morning or afternoon, give the One Minute Pause a try.

Change is a marathon won by a million baby steps. Ann Voskamp

Love, Mom

If you would like to download the app and give it a try, simply type into Google:

One Minute Pause App

The Holy But

January 8, 2020 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Once again Christmas is past, New Years has been celebrated and here we are in a new decade, with emotions ranging from anticipation to anxiety, fear to hope, wonder to boredom – depending on our circumstances in life. Along with many other folks this time of year, I have made some goals for the year/decade. One of the areas I would like to work on has to do with the words I speak.

Have you ever gotten home from being with someone or a group of people and rewound the conversation in your mind? Do you ever wish you could take back some words you have spoken and replaced them with better, kinder words? Yeah, me too – more often than I like.

I’ve been listening to myself as well as others and have noticed that many people live after the but. That is, the word “but.” If you listen carefully to others (or yourself) you will find out what they really believe after the but. It doesn’t matter what they say first, what they truly believe comes after the but. Someone may say,

I really like Charissa, but she’s kinda gossipy. She didn’t call me when she knew I was having a hard time.

Oh yes, Nathan is so funny, but did you know he had a temper tantrum after he didn’t get the deal he wanted?

Mara is so beautiful, but did you see the look she gave me when I mentioned where I shop?

I really like our pastor, but he never visited my mom when she was sick.

It’s good and healthy to express honest emotions, but most people live in the world after the but. It doesn’t matter what someone says, you’ll find out what they really believe if you listen to what comes after the but. We say things like:

I know God loves me, but I feel so abandoned.

I know God promised to provide for me, but I don’t really have what I need.

I know God promises me wisdom, but all I feel is confusion.

When we talk like that we live only in the present circumstance. The only hope we have is for a change in our feelings or in our current state of affairs. If we trust solely in our emotions or what is happening around us, we can easily fall into despair. Satan doesn’t care about our talking about God as long as we put Him before the but.

Dan Stone writes about something called The Holy But. It’s putting God after the but, where He belongs. When Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane, the night before he was killed, he prayed something like this (a paraphrase of Dan Stone).

Father, I don’t want to be separated from you. If it’s possible please let me out of it. In fact, this is so heavy on me right now that my soul feels very depressed…

…Yet

…nevertheless

…BUT

…not as I will but as You will.

Jesus was emotionally honest, he spoke freely about what he felt, how hard it was, how he was suffering, but he was willing to submit to His Father’s will.

King David, one of the main writers of the Psalms, was painfully honest with God. In Psalm 13 he laments:

How long, O Lord, will you forget me forever?

How long will you hide your face from me?

How long shall I take counsel in my soul,

Having sorrow in my heart all the day?

How long will my enemy be exalted over me…. (verses 1-2)

Many of us think these things but would never dare say them out loud. David, however, not only spoke them but wrote them down for people to read thousands of years later. And the interesting thing is God doesn’t mind our honesty. In fact he desires it. But the fascinating part of this prayer of lament is the way David ends the Psalm,

But I trust in your unfailing love,

My heart rejoices in your salvation.

I will sing the Lord’s praise,

For He has been good to me. (verses 5-6)

That’s an example of the Holy But. Nothing had changed in David’s circumstances, but his perspective changed. It moved him from where he was stuck – in despair and sorrow – and into faith.

Even though your life may look hopeless at this moment, you can choose to remember how God has been faithful throughout your life. And if, as on those categorically hard days, you forget about the good things in your past, you can look to the stories in the Bible about how He always keeps His promises, always brings good out of evil, and promises to never, ever, no not ever abandon us.

Remember the stories of Abraham,

Jacob,

Joseph,

Daniel,

Ruth,

Esther,

Rahab,

and the list goes on….

The Holy But is able to change your situation from concentrating on the external issues in life to the internal – your spirit. You take all those emotions back to the Person dwelling in you and get God into it. Then you can experience peace even in the midst of the storm.

All fear is but the notion that God’s love ends ~ Ann Voskamp

Welcome this new year and consider letting God bless you in the days ahead by using the Holy But.

The year ahead looks daunting, but I know You are holding me with Your everlasting arms.

I feel like a loser today, but I know You love me anyway.

The world happenings are causing me fear, but I know You are still the King of the earth, King of me and I trust You.

Lord, life is going by so fast! It frightens me unless I remember your eternity. We are as rootless as tumbleweeds and will be blown about all our lives unless You are our dwelling place. In You we are home. What I have in You I can never lose and will have forever. I praise You for this unfathomable comfort. Amen. ~ Tim Keller

Love, Mom

A Gift of Rags

December 17, 2019 / Shari Baar / 4 Comments

Dear Daughters,

My friend, Ann, always makes me laugh. She is a storyteller extraordinaire, and somehow even sad stories end up funny when Ann is the narrator.

A few years ago in December, Ann prepared Christmas gifts for her and Ed’s employees, just as they do every Christmas. She carefully placed each employee’s bonus and gift inside brown paper bags. It is always Ed’s job to deliver the bags to the employees. Strangely, after distributing all the bags, he had one leftover. Ann knew she had the correct number of bags ready for Ed, so they were both curious and wondering how he ended up with an extra gift bag.

So, Ed decided to call each employee personally and ask if he had received his Christmas gift. Yes, the first guy received his, and the next and the next. Finally he called the last guy, and his response was

What did I ever do to offend you?

Ed and Ann’s daughter worked in a beauty salon and periodically brought hair-dye stained rags home to her dad because he could always find a use for them in the barn. Those rags were always brought home in a brown paper bag. Apparently, Ed had picked up that bag of rags with all the others and …. well, you can figure out the rest of the story.

Ann and I laughed as she told me the story, but on the way home I got thinking about the bags of rags we give to each other at different times.

About 15 years ago, you and your families were at our house for a Christmas celebration. As our tradition has been for many years, every person has to hunt for one of their presents. We are all given 10 clues and at the end of the search there is a gift to reward the searcher.

Well, this particular year I successfully got to the end of my 10 clues and for whatever reason, the gift spot was empty. Immediately the words came into my mind:

Yep, this is always your life. You try hard, work hard, but there will never be any prize for you….

I put on a happy face and tried to laugh about it but inside I was weeping, hurt and trying not to believe those ugly words in my head. I knew the empty spot was not left intentionally that way, but it was still empty and the words ricocheted through my mind.

To be fair, this happened during a year I was going through menopause, rejection from people I loved, and a chronic illness. But whatever your back story is, words and wounds in life – either perceived or actual – always hurt.

We have all received rag bags of ugly, stained words from those we love, and we have all given bags of rags to those we love.

I have given many rag bags to Dad over the years– words said in anger, frustration and sometimes bitterness. Bags like

You always forget my birthday (yes, a few times he did)

You have lists but you don’t ever do them (he does much of what is on his list but not always when I want him to do).

Some of the rag bags I have given to Dad have been deliberate, others have been unintentional.

And of course, it goes both ways. Dad has given me bags of rags as well, but since this blog comes from my perspective and not his I will refrain from speaking about those.

Because we live in a fallen world, offense comes often and it can be intense. We cannot predict or control what bags of rags we are given, but we are responsible for our reaction to them.

We can believe those thoughts and words that are spoken and creep into our mind – we are worthless, unlovable and a failure, that all our efforts are useless and wasted,

We can choose to believe we are loved by God, a chosen, beautiful child of God. When we fail, when we hurt, when we pray for better relationships we can believe He is for us and not against us. He is always working for our good. We can forgive and move on in our lives, knowing that Jesus always uses those hardships to make us stronger and more like Him. Tim Keller says it so well:

In some mysterious way, troubles and suffering refine us like gold and turn us, inwardly and spiritually, into something beautiful and great.

When Jesus came down to earth many centuries ago, He came directly into our rags of humanity. The Roman Empire at that time was corrupt, brutal, dark, inhumane and heartless. Interestingly, he didn’t start explaining the darkness and why it was there. He didn’t rail and condemn the Empire, He simply came into it (Immanuel – God with us) and showed us a way out. He presented us with new life, a better way to live, the way of love even in the face of unjust tyrants and religious hypocrites.

When you are given a bag of rags, invite Jesus into it. His specialty is making good come out of suffering, righting wrongs, making all things new, and above all – teaching us to trust Him. When we love freely, forgive abundantly, and give those bags of rags to Him, we will find joy, freedom and contentment.

The employee who received the bag of rags that long-ago Christmas? He still carries the offense around with him. He hasn’t come to see it as an accident or even a humorous error from his employer. Of course, his bag was replaced with the intended beautiful Christmas gift, but he still hangs on to the rags in his mind.

Remember, remember, you can always get rid of those bags of rags and trade them in for the Perfect gift.

Love, Mom

One Thousand Gifts

November 26, 2019 / Shari Baar / 4 Comments

Dear Daughters,

The most life-changing book I’ve ever read is One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. She writes about how God has extravagantly showered you and I with gifts – every day of our lives. Never before had I read someone who was so vulnerable, sharing her insecurities, doubts, anxieties, depression, disappointment with God and her fierce struggle to find joy in everyday living. As I read, I felt a kinship with her and was ready to learn whatever it was that had transformed her to become honest, bold and joyful.

Ann’s friend had challenged her to make a list of a thousand things she loves – 1,000 gifts. She started that very day to chronicle the simple gifts of life – jam on toast, the cry of a blue jay, wool sweaters with turtleneck collars – and became surprised by the joy that naming these gifts created in her. Joy that had eluded her for years now appeared through the simple act of thanksgiving.

Because joy had been eluding me as well, I bought a journal and started writing down gifts, not gifts that I want, but gifts God has already given me. Looking for gifts and writing them down in detail felt like I was on a quest for beauty – something I had never done before. I too was surprised by joy springing up in my heart. I became more aware of the beauty in our home, in the surrounding countryside, the people in my life. I started thanking God for the little things: my ten fingers, the energy to fold laundry, tulips in bloom, melted butter on my broccoli. I found I couldn’t name just three a day – it became five, ten, sometimes more – simply because it brought such delight that I hadn’t realized had been missing in my ife. It was easy to find and write down so many good gifts ….for many months.

Then came what Ann calls the hard Eucharisteo (the Greek word for thanks). It’s easy to give thanks when things are going well, when my plans are moving forward and life is pleasant. But when illness comes to visit, when relationships unfurl, when everywhere we turn we see envy, greed and bitterness, the most expected behavior in the world is to slip down into the hole of self-pity and start believing the lies that snake into our minds.

God is good when life is good,

but He must be mad at me because now life is bad.

He loves other people more than me

I’m never good enough

Why try? Everything I do fails…

I’m just a has-been

God has abandoned me…

A woman of wisdom, Ann writes:

There can be a lying snake curled between your neural membranes

and his lies can run poison in your veins.

I’ve experienced that poison in my veins, and it produces heaviness, despair and hopelessness. When I focused on those lies that crept in my mind and not on the truth of God’s goodness, life didn’t seem worth living.

So in the midst of my anguish – when yet another move with the all too familiar sight of mountains of boxes around me, a body not functioning like I had hoped and the failing of key relationships – I went back and read One Thousand Gifts again in order to remember. I found that I struggle with soul amnesia, as Ann names it. Forgetting the fact that God is good, in the times of sunny skies as well as those days of clouds and darkness. Even though the sun is not shining for me to see, it’s still there behind the clouds.

When I finished reading the book a third time, I read it again – I had to for survival. And I kept writing in my gratitude journal. Many days I would write through the midst of tears and grief, because I had to be reminded that God is good even though life is hard. I was on a pursuit of things to be thankful for, even during the time of life I would have never scripted for myself.

Joy is always a function of gratitude –

and gratitude is always a function of perspective.

When I finally asked God for perspective, with eyes to believe that He does work all things together for good, then joy returned. It was a sometimes slow and arduous process, but gratitude always reaps joy.

If we are going to change our lives, we’re going to have to change the way we see. This recording our gratitudes, this looking for blessings everywhere, this counting of gifts – this is what changes what we are looking for. This is what changes our perspective. Thanksgiving is the lens God means for us to see joy all year round.

Ann Voskamp

Giving thanks toward the end of November is good, but God never meant for us to imprison thanksgiving for only a season. As is it written in Psalm 100,

Enter His gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise;

Give thanks to Him and praise His name.

For the Lord is good and His love endures forever,

His faithfulness continues through all generations.

Without the daily habit of giving thanks, I would be a puddle on the floor.

Love, Mom

Jesus Cherishes Women

November 15, 2019 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Once I got over the surprising revelation that I can change nobody but myself, I read on to the next chapter of Sacred Influence by Gary Thomas. Changing me was such a new concept and different to my way of thinking that it took (and still is taking) time and prayer to change that mindset. All these years of thinking I could control and change other people seems so silly now that I know the truth, but for years I believed the lie that it was possible for me to produce results.

Thomas starts this chapter by saying husbands like to brag about their wives. They may not say it to you, but they notice your strengths and are eager to tell others about your business acumen, social skills, intelligence, athletic ability, culinary talents – whatever it is you do well. But far more important than any of these skills is your spiritual core. What do you really believe about yourself? Do you know – truly know and believe in the depths of your being – that God loves you? The answer to that question is what will give you strength to be the godly change agent in your marriage.

Did you know that the Bible speaks very highly of women? In Genesis, right from the beginning of time, God created male and female so together we could mirror the image of God. Either gender alone is unable to adequately represent His character and image. God didn’t simply tell women to cheer for the men, we are together given the mandate to rule, subdue, and manage this earth, which is a radical statement for any century and any culture in our world.

The next section in the chapter– Jesus, Friend of Women – was fascinating. In Matthew chapter 1, the genealogy of Jesus includes women:

Rahab the prostitute

Ruth the Moabite

Bathsheba (with whom King David committed adultery)

Mary the mother of Jesus

Thousands of years ago when the Bible was written, it was typically only men who were named in genealogies. So, the amazing thing is not only did God include women in this genealogy but several of those women had less than stellar backgrounds.

Rahab was obviously a prostitute, King David committed adultery with Bathsheba and had her husband killed, and yet Jesus had the humility to be identified with women in his family tree whose stories were spotted with sin. I used to think it was crazy to include stories of people who were so flawed in the Bible, but that’s when God does His best work – with those who know they are broken.

In our culture we are taught it is necessary to tear down men to lift women up, but it is remarkable to realize how often the disciples who surrounded Jesus just didn’t understand Him while the women did. Wherever He went He affirmed women when others disdained them. One time, Jesus was having dinner with a religious professional when a prostitute walked in and washed Jesus’ feet with her tears, drying them with her hair. The religious guy was appalled, but Jesus chided the man and praised the woman because she understood who Jesus was – the Savior of the world.

Another time a woman poured costly perfume over Jesus’ head and the disciples grumbled, saying it was a waste of money, but Jesus said,

Leave her alone, she has done a beautiful thing to me.

Then again when Jesus was hanging on the cross, only one out of the twelve male disciples came to watch, but many women dared to come and be with Jesus during His last suffering moments.

Perhaps the most incredible example of all is after He died and rose again. Who were the first to talk to the angels at the grave, and then later meet Jesus face to face? Women. The first woman was Mary Magdalene, from whom Jesus had cast out seven demons. In those days a woman’s testimony could not be heard in courts of law, only men’s testimonies were considered valid, but Jesus chose women to be the first to see him so they could go and tell the men, who didn’t believe them. Jesus, after he had risen, appeared to those 11 disciples and reproached them for their unbelief and hardness of heart.

With all this said, Gary Thomas writes about the importance to know and believe that we – every one of us – are valued and dearly loved by God himself. Then…if we truly believe God deeply loves and respects us, then we can love and respect ourselves.

For my entire life I have sung

Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so…

but I think I never really believed it until recently. Certainly I knew that God made me and the world and all the people and creation, but I just thought I had to figure out this love and marriage thing on my own. Looking back, I never realized how cherished I am to God. I never really trusted Him in caring for Dad and all of you. I thought I had to be the one who did all the molding and shaping (controlling). It is quite freeing to rest in the fact that I am loved by God and my only job is to love and pray for those around me, not try to change them. I also never realized how radical the Bible is in its treatment of women. It’s our culture that has it wrong; God sees men and women as equal in value.

I pray that you will grow to know more and more that He cares intimately about every detail of your life, and that He can be trusted ~ even in your marriage.

I love I Corinthians 7:17-18

And don’t be wishing you were someplace else. Where you are right now is God’s place for you. Live and obey and love and believe right there. God, not your marital status, defines your life.

Love,

Mom

Wounded Beauty

September 23, 2019 / Shari Baar / 2 Comments

Dear Daughters,

One day last summer, Dad came home from kayaking around the lake, excited about what he’d found on an old wounded oak tree. So I went back with him, interested to know what he had discovered on our otherwise quiet and not-so-exciting lake.

When we got to the tree, I saw the most gorgeous and amazing growths on the side of the tree. From a distance they looked like beautiful yellow flowers, but going closer we could tell they were some kind of curious looking fungus.

We took some pictures, and after learning about these Chicken of the Woods mushrooms, Dad cut some off the tree and cooked them up. He said they were quite the tasty gourmet treat.

I, however, was more interested in why they were growing on a tree than in eating them. I love mushrooms and will readily buy many different varieties from farm markets, but am always a little sketchy about mushrooms in the wild.

Anyway, as I was learning about these Chicken of the Woods, I found that they typically grow on oak trees, and usually on those having a wound. Because I admire my Creator so much, I got thinking about the significance of these colorful intriguing mushrooms being attached on an injured tree.

Perhaps a storm caused a large branch to be broken off, leaving the tree to become vulnerable to the invading fungus. Whatever the reason, I got pondering the parallels to humans who are wounded, maybe having a limb torn off in the wind and the branches of their heart scattered along the beach.

Let’s face it, all of us have been wounded. Whether it is a wound caused by a person, an illness or accident, it hurts and leaves a scar. But the greatest wounding comes from words, or lack of words we crave from people closest to us, which leave painful scarring on our hearts. Someone may have been behind-the-scenes hurtful toward you, it may have been misunderstood, or there may have been outright belligerent harm done.

Whatever the case, we all have wounds. The wounds may not show on the outside of our physical bodies, yet they are still very real and extremely painful. Your wounds may come from words said to you as a child, and even though they were lies, they stick in your mind clamoring to be believed as the truth. Lies like

You’re going to have to figure out life on your own

You can’t trust anyone

Life is never going to get better

Why try? I’m never good enough

Life is hopeless

Believing there’s no hope that life will ever change is a wound which will cause your heart to stay closed and scarred. Hopelessness will turn into despair, to bitterness and a temptation to recoil from the world. But those scars from past pain can be healed, and turned into beauty for others to enjoy.

How?

By talking about those scars, entrusting others with your pain, acknowledging the hurt people have caused you. Crying out in anguish to God about the unfairness of life, being honest to Him about your anger, the harm you have endured and thoughts of revenge which are rolling around in your mind. They don’t have to be proper words or scrubbed-clean clichés, just simple authentic raw emotions. He’s been there, He’s suffered immensely and desires to walk through your suffering as well.

And then….forgiving, which is some of the hardest work you will ever do. Your whole being will cry out for justice and revenge against whoever caused you pain, but if you go that route your wound will not ever heal, it will only ooze and fester – growing rancid inside your heart.

Tim Keller tells a story of an amazing man in the Netherlands,

In 2004 the Dutch filmmaker Theo van Gogh was killed by a Muslim radical. In the aftermath of his death, both churches and mosques in the Netherlands experienced retaliatory attacks, including the bombing of an Islamic school. The outpouring of violent rage shook the Dutch nation that had prided itself on being a peaceful and open society. At this incendiary moment, a Dutch Protestant minister, Reverend Kees Sybrandi, did something radical. Sybrandi was a very conservative traditional Dutchman who lived in a community where poor Middle Eastern immigrants had brought much poverty and crime. Yet that week, Sybrandi “walked into his neighborhood mosque. He knocked firmly on the door, and to the shock of the Muslims huddled inside, he announced that he would stand guard outside the mosque every night until…the attacks ceased. In the days and weeks that followed, the minister called on other churches in the area and they joined him, circling and guarding the mosques throughout the region for more than three months.”

When Sybrandi was asked why he would do such a thing, he simply replied “Jesus commanded me to love my neighbor – my enemy too.”

The act of forgiveness that Sybrandi showed was small but its effect was immense. His was a public grace of forgiveness, but even my seemingly small insignificant forgiving of just one person will have unknown beautiful results which only time will reveal.

It’s easy to love those who love us, but far more difficult to love our enemies. Yet that’s the only way healing comes. I struggle with forgiving and I’m sure you do too. There are baits of offenses everywhere to be taken every day.

But through the slow and often arduously painful process of speaking your pain and moving toward forgiveness, beauty will grow on that wound and the beauty will outshine the wound. How I urge you to be honest, speak your pain and allow God’s love to grow in you as you open your heart to be healed.

Love, Mom

Help, Thanks, Wow!

August 1, 2019 / Shari Baar / 0 Comments

Dear Daughters,

On Sunday my friend Shari, who spells her name the same as I, gave a children’s message at church. The subject for the day was prayer. Being a teacher for decades, she obviously knows and loves children well and is able to speak simply yet profoundly. Shari taught the children there are basically three kinds of prayers.

To be honest, I am amazed that God hears every person, knows every heart – all the emotions in every life – and actually cares about every single one. And in a world containing over 7 billion people, that in itself blows my mind – but it is true. And since He’s the one who created us in the first place, it makes sense that he would know us intimately and love us compassionately.

Borrowing some wise words from Ann Lamott, Shari taught the children about these three types of prayer:

Help

Thanks

Wow

Unfortunately, the prayer Help is probably the most common prayer of all. It’s the basic cry of our heart. Many of us try to live our lives on our own, thinking we are wise and knowing the best way to go about relationships, business decisions, and any other details we happen to come across. Then, inevitably, our world takes a hit here or there or everywhere and we cry out Help. You have heard the proverbial fox-hole prayer, a prayer commonly heard from the trenches of war,

Lord, if you get me out of this mess, I’ll do what you want me to do.

So He does, but often we don’t.

…Until the next problem comes up and we cry Help again. And again, in His astonishing patience and faithfulness, he listens and helps again. It reminds me of those Israelites in the wilderness, wandering around for 40 years, trying to do life on their own, grumbling when things aren’t to their liking, messing up in their words and deeds, asking for mercy, and amazingly receiving mercy from their and our Creator God. Yeah, it’s completely astounding.

I am not unlike the Israelites, having soul amnesia when it comes to God’s goodness, so I continue to cry Help in my times of need – which is typically every day, every hour, and often moment by moment.

Then there’s the second category of prayer,

Thanks

This type of prayer has become my favorite mainly because of reading Ann Voskamp’s book One Thousand Gifts about ten years ago. Ann found joy out of despair, peace from fear, and learned to see life through a whole new lens – a lens of thanksgiving. She learned that simply giving thanks for everything changed her whole perspective on life.

The act of giving thanks to God for the many gifts He has given us enlarges our life, creates joy in living, and bolsters the trust and faith we have in Him.

Once, while in my own pit of anguish, I started a gratitude journal and began a search for beauty. As a matter of survival, I started listing the gifts from God that were all around me, everywhere I looked – when I took time to look. Monarch butterflies, raging red sunsets, softly drizzling rain, sunshine yellow daffodils, brilliant red leaves, spotted ladybugs , the extraordinary variety of mushrooms, reading glasses, the veins in my hands, the ripples on our lake. Eventually, I learned to give thanks for the hard times in life – gray hair, a move to another state, hot humid days, illness, watching my mother die. When we give thanks, we begin to see circumstances as God sees them – little steps in developing our character, knowing and trusting that He does indeed work all things together for good. Not that those things are good in themselves, but He uses them all for good.

Giving thanks brings peace.

Giving thanks brings joy… even in heartache.

The third type of prayer is Wow.

Wow prayers are when you see something in the world which is absolutely amazing. Of course these could also fall into the category of Thanks, but the Wow prayers are even more astounding, spectacular and incredible. They are the breathtaking sights and living creatures which take us by surprise, the unexpected beauty as we turn round the bend in a road, the exquisite, the gorgeous.

Jesus loves it when we talk to him, make Him our best friend, surrender our lives to Him. The best thing of all is that He’s available night and day, in bad weather and good, during our snarky times and during our joy-filled moments.

Help

Thanks

Wow

Those three simple words aptly summarize all of our conversations with God and I am grateful they are available all the time, eternally and forever.

Love, Mom

Remembering…

July 4, 2019 / Shari Baar / 6 Comments

Dear Daughters,

Today is the 27th anniversary of my brother’s, your Uncle Steve’s death. He was only 40 years old – soon to be 41 – his life ending much too soon.

Steve loved the outdoors. One of his favorite pastimes was canoeing down the Snake River, once coming home with a banged-up boat after going through some tougher than expected white water.

I can still see him playing the piano with his large muscular hands – one of his favorites was Easter Song by Annie Herring. He also loved to whistle. In church when other people would be singing, Steve would whistle. He and I sang duets together, spent time together, but he never talked about the depths of despair that haunted him.

He went to Mexico to help the poor. He loved God but had a difficult time loving people. No one knew, not even Steve himself, why interpersonal relationships were so challenging….

I remember that dismal day well.

The Koopman clan had planned to spend four days in the heart of the Sawtooth Mountain Range in Idaho. Redfish Lake was our destination, sitting at an elevation of 6,550 feet where the waters are crystal clear and the beaches are sandy.

Our full family van had recently arrived from Kansas, our home at the time, anticipating another splendid summer vacation with our family in Idaho.

It was a tradition, you remember, for as long as you girls have been living. Each summer our extended family would gather together for three nights and four days, enjoying mountain climbing, water skiing, canoeing, and simply delighting in time together.

We stopped to wait at a designated spot to meet up with Uncle Steve and some of his children, but they never showed up. We waited far beyond the agreed meeting time until Uncle John came and told us the reason that he had not come. Steve had been found – dead.

Even though I was told plainly with words that my brother was dead, my mind could not comprehend it. I was in complete denial and drove to the hospital to see which room he had been admitted. When they told me there was no one registered by that name I walked away in a daze.

I don’t remember how, but eventually we all ended up at his house and walked out to the garage where the death took place. The details of the story slowly emerged. It had happened the evening before, July 4 – Independence Day – when Steve took his own life. From his perspective, life had become unbearable and he could no longer survive the emotional turmoil that was raging inside him.

As we were driving away from his home that dark evening, the guilt, shame and stigma of suicide began to descend on Dad and I. I was embarrassed, humiliated and ashamed that this happened to our family. This was for other families, not mine. Yes, I knew my cousin had given up on life a few years earlier, but things were different in our family.

I was absolutely certain that no one would show up at the funeral. It was too horrifying to think about, much less talk about. In my mind I imagined a big black letter S sewn on my back. I felt like an untouchable, a reject, cast out to sit on the ash heap.

Dad, one of the few who could stay focused on what needed to be done, helped my sisters and me go through the clouded motions of picking a funeral home, choosing the casket, writing an obituary, planning the service – something I had not been prepared to do on my imagined carefree vacation to Idaho.

Then came the day of the visitation. I was going to be strong and greet the people who could possibly be brave enough to stand with us in this atrocious grief. But as I walked into the dimly lit parlor and saw his body lying lifeless, his trademark pith helmet lying on his chest, I stayed for a few seconds and then fled out of the room, sobbing uncontrollably.

The day of the funeral dawned even though I was hoping it would never arrive. With legs like lead I got dressed and mechanically prepared the family to go. I was quite certain that maybe, just maybe, there might be two rows of people brave enough to attend. Who in their right mind would want to be identified with such an atrocity?

When I walked in the doors of the church, my high school friend, Lora, was there with tears and a hug. She had heard the news and she had come. Some cousins came from Washington to grieve with us. People trickled into the church until it was packed. I remember nothing of the service, just sitting there numb, except for the overwhelming fact that there were people who came and cared and cried with us.

God was there in those people who took time out of their glorious summer day, and it was because of those people I knew for certain that God still loved our family. I was afraid He would perhaps turn His back on us but the presence of many who cared assured me that God was present, even in the midst of our personal horror.

Riding in the family coach on the way to the cemetery I watched as people mowed their lawns, played catch with their children, some laughing as they were talking to their friends. I wanted to scream at them to stop. STOP. STOP. Cry and wail with me. The whole world, all of you, should stop, everyone should feel the same heart-breaking grief that I‘m feeling. There should be no smiles, no laughter, no joy….not today, not now, maybe not ever again.

It was a fierce good-bye. Uncle Steve had devised a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

It took months, no it was years slowly turning into decades, to be able to process all that had happened. I read books about suicide, I grieved with friends, cried while singing in church, mourned with tears of unspeakable guilty grief into the early hours of many mornings. I will never understand what happened, but now 27 years later I don’t feel the need to understand. Simply knowing Jesus walked with me is enough.

Nothing can separate me from the love of God.

I bring up this memory of Uncle Steve to thank you, daughters, for choosing to live even when struggles get hard and relationships are fractured, when life hurts and everything seems so unfair. When you are in the depths of despair, when your heart is breaking, God walks with you and I will walk with you. He’s there even when you slog through the valley of the shadow of death. He is permanently there. Always. He will never leave you nor forsake you. There is always hope, light, and life, even when life seems hopeless, dim and futile.

Always choose life. Love fiercely.

Love, Mom

Branches and Trees

Page 10 of 22

CS Lewis on the Virus

Spaghetti and Waffles

One Minute Pause

The Holy But

A Gift of Rags

One Thousand Gifts

Jesus Cherishes Women

Wounded Beauty

Help, Thanks, Wow!

Remembering…

Archives

Recent Posts

Recent Posts

Recent Comments

Stories and Songs

Meta

Archives

Categories