Healing Our Divides

“Why heal our divides? Because if we do, we heal ourselves.”- Diana Butler Bass in How To Heal Our Divides ¹

A huge cloud of blue smoke belched from the tailpipe as my husband coaxed our heavy-laden UHaul™ up the east side of Wolf Creek Pass. Clearly, something was wrong. I prayed as I followed him up to the summit, which straddles the Great Divide. If only he could reach the top, he and the truck could almost coast into Pagosa Springs. We were moving to a new community as we semi-retired.

The Continental Divide zigzags  across the Colorado high country like a dot-to-dot puzzle, shedding water toward the Atlantic or the Pacific.  I’ve crossed it hundreds of times; east to reach civilization, west to return home. It’s a beautiful drive, but you have to pay attention.

Swamp to the West, Sea to the East

As much as I love mountain living, sometimes I still miss the simplicity of flat land. Here in Colorado, highways run willy-nilly through the wilderness. I grew up in Miami, where the roads were straight and the map made sense. The swamp lay west, and the sea east. It was a good thing life was relatively simple. When I was young, I had a hard time paying attention.

Such a hard time, in fact, that at the age of twenty-one I broke my engagement, dropped out of college, sold all my furniture, and beat feet out of South Florida. In recovery, we call that a “geographic.” Those of us with untreated addictive tendencies often believe that moving away, the farther the better, will surely solve all of our problems. So my pot brownies and I bummed a ride from my soon-to-be ex and landed smack-dab in the middle of Party City: Aspen, Colorado.

A brilliant move, said no one ever.

The Good News and the Bad News

The good news and the bad news were the same:  I found my community.  Sadly, I found it in a town where cocaine was king and people smoked weed in restaurants long before it was legal. In a surprising twist, I snagged a job as a nanny. One would have thought this would be a good influence. Turns out Mom was quite the party animal and hired other babysitters so we could hit the bars together. Under her tutelage, my vices became full-blown addictions. By the grace of a God I didn’t know, I survived remarkably intact.

Speaking of God

Speaking of God, I wasn’t keen on meeting Him. If He existed at all, He’d made Himself scarce during my hair-raising childhood. Imagine my relief when I discovered drugs and alcohol would alleviate emotional pain. Not only did I not need God, but I figured He would not be too excited to meet me either.

Why He mercifully kept me out of danger and from doing any real harm to others escapes me. He did, however, have plans in the offing He set into motion soon after I was unceremoniously bounced out of that house.

I was forced to get a real job.

I had always worked; that wasn’t the problem. Showing up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at nine am was the challenge. This college dropout probably wasn’t anyone’s first choice for bookkeeper, but then I met this lady. She owned and ran two department stores. Her bookkeeper was moving away. She knew one of my local references. I knew how to make a bank deposit.  She was desperate. I had a pulse. She hired me.

And God smiled, because my new boss knew His Son.

Seven years it took for this woman to pray me into the Kingdom. To this day, forty-three years after our first meeting, she remains one of my best friends. Unlike the party animal I worked for previously, this woman introduced me to Jesus. She was, and is, and will be until she dies, an Evangelical Christian. She was, and is, the first true Jesus-follower I ever knew. She led me into the family of God through her Evangelical Church.

She introduced me to her community.

Healing in Community

Little by little, I got well. I got clean, and then I got sober. I got married, and we celebrated at her house. I named my only daughter after her, and she was the first person I called when my little girl died. Of course I was saved by the blood and mercy of Jesus Christ, but He came to me through the love and prayers of one woman who refused to give up. On her knees she wrangled me an invitation to Eternity.

Of course we didn’t always agree. She’s a Republican, and I’m a Democrat. Over the decades we’ve had our differences, but never anything we couldn’t talk out, or agree to disagree upon.

Then Donald Trump was elected President of the United States.

Taking Action and Speaking the Unspeakable

And so my dear friend, my surrogate mother, this eighty-seven year-old kindhearted Christian woman and I had a very difficult conversation about my rebellion against the Evangelical Church. While leaving my family of faith broke my heart, leaving my community almost broke my spirit. Fortunately, there is help. And where there is help, there is hope.

And hope was all I had in this last year as COVID and Trumpism ravaged the Christian community I had loved.

On my website, I review and offer books that I have found helpful in understanding what has happened to our faith, and where we may be going. Recently I met Brian Allain through his Writing For Your Life conference. He graciously gave all the participants an opportunity to take part in the launch of a groundbreaking book, and I jumped at the chance. This is one of those things I knew I needed but never envisioned.

How to Heal Our Divides is more than a book. It’s a guide to the new community I want to be a part of.

Roadmap To Our New Community

It’s an anthology, composed by a kaleidoscope of writers, speakers, activists, advocates, theologians, teachers, preachers, thinkers, scholars, radicals, rabble-rousers, storytellers, former legislators, ministers, peacemakers, Mormons, chaplains, lecturers, rabbis, professors, grandmas, gardeners, artists, professors, chaplains, pastors, and counselors.

Their stories illuminate our communal brokenness and where our society has fallen short of loving our brothers and sisters. Our LGBTQ sibs, our Black, Brown, and Asian sibs, our homeless sibs, our differently-abled sibs, our refugee sibs, our hungry sibs, our sibs on Death Row, and so many others. Jesus gave us explicit instructions on how we are to care for His kids, and these folks are doing it. We can do it, too.

And therein lies community.

Healing My Own Divides

When I was young, I had a hard time paying attention. That’s probably because I was broken: raised by an abusive father and a mother who wouldn’t protect me. Finding drugs and alcohol saved my life for a while, easing the pain until God sent someone to help me. Eventually, her Savior became my Savior, and her community, my community. By the love of God and support of these people, I found healing.

I miss Evangelical life, even with all its failings. I’m afraid I cannot return, with Trumpism continuing to run rampant through church leadership and QAnons still occupying the pews. White Nationalism is still represented by the American flag at the pulpit. Women are still subjugated. My eyes have been opened, but they are blinded by tears.

So when it comes to healing my own divides, I’m going to start small. I’m already involved with one of the organizations represented in this roadmap to our new community, How to Heal Our Divides. Our new town is home to a significant QAnon population and Trump supporters await his return.

I’d better pay careful attention, and resist the urge to duck for cover. Divides are waiting to be healed.

©Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC, 2021. All Rights Reserved.

^{1 How To Heal Our Divides, Copyright © 2021 by Brian Allain}

To order the book, simply click on any of the red links above.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dateline Wednesday, September 23, 2020:

President Donald Trump declined to commit to a peaceful transfer of power following November’s election during a press conference on Wednesday.

Asked if he will leave the White House peacefully, if he loses the election, Trump responded, “Well, we’re going to have to see what happens. You know that…We want to have — get rid of the ballots and you’ll have a very peaceful, there won’t be a transfer, frankly,” Trump said. “There’ll be a continuation.”…”1

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, or getting your news from Fox, this is not news to you.

This Present Darkness Has Arrived

I am not at all surprised that Trump said it, but I am surprised he admitted it this early on.

His personal militia, comprised of the Boogaloos, the QAnons, and the white supremacists, has been gearing up for months now. Please do not think for a moment that they are not armed and ready to defend the Dictator-in-Chief.

So what are we supposed to do- we who refuse to buy the fabrication that Trump was sent by God to rescue our country from their sins? To establish a conservative, Religious Right order? Which means ‘to hell with America and everything she stood for.’

All I can say for certain now is that we cannot give up praying. There is nothing about this present darkness that surprises God. He sees the big picture, and this might, indeed, be the beginning of the end. Never could I have imagined I would be on the opposite side of a major conflict from the people I knew and loved among the Evangelical Church. But even Kevin, my peace-loving, don’t-mess-with-my-recliner-settings husband, is marching on Washington if Trump pulls this stunt.

Shocked? You could knock me over with a feather. But this man, who’s never hoisted a protest sign in his life, is dead serious.

We Will Fight Before We See Our Democracy Overthrown

Never before in our country’s history has a president tried to sow seeds of doubt about our ballot process to throw the election. Never has a president put a buddy in the charge of the postal service for that same reason. His plan to literally overthrow our democracy is wide-reaching, but there’s not much point in elaborating. We have evolved into a nation who either believes Trump and his personal network, Fox, or we believe scientists, national security experts, former distinguished Trump employees who refused to play ball, and every other news source in America.

Never has a president even hinted that he would not cooperate with the peaceful transfer of power, should he lose the election. Until now.

We’re living in a world I would never have envisioned. Personally, I pray every day that God will remove Donald Trump from office as soon as possible, according to His will. I guess I’d better start praying that somehow God will also intervene to prevent a civil war in November.

Because we will not take the demolition of our democracy lying down. It’s terrifying, it’s tragic, and I can’t believe it’s happening, but as Edmund Burke so famously observed,

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

It’s time to stand up and be counted. We are ready.

©2020 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

^{1 ABC News}

Fire in the Sky

“I’ve seen it raining fire in the sky.”– John Denver, Rocky Mountain High

Every August for as long as I can remember, we’ve invited friends to join us in watching the Perseids Meteor Shower. Living high in Rockies, far from city lights, we enjoy amazingly dark skies. Sometimes clouds block the view; sometimes the moon is too bright. But every once in a while, we get a year like this one.

We were camping between the peaks in a meadow at  8300′ feet in the middle of nowhere. The moon wouldn’t rise until almost midnight. We had a great site overlooking the lake with an expansive view of the sky. All we had to do was stay awake. I was a little sad that, unlike years past, we had no one with whom to share the evening. We’ve only lived here two years. All the friends we made so far were at the church we just left. Only one stuck around.

“Loving Our Neighbors” Versus “There Goes the Neighborhood.”

Like most visitors in National Forest campgrounds, our next-door neighbors waved politely but kept to themselves. These days, it seems like we are all a little more wary of speaking to strangers. Are they Trumpers? Liberals? The quality of their outdoor toys told me they were far above our socioeconomic level; Texas license plates told me they were more than likely Trump supporters. Back in civilization, we’d never sit down to lunch together.

But here’s what I did know: a glorious display of natural beauty and God’s majesty was about to unfold, and they didn’t even know to look for it.  I just could not keep this information to myself. Late in the afternoon, as they were sitting out and enjoying the view, I air-knocked in the forest and walked into their camp. They waved me on in.

“I just want to make sure you two know about tonight’s meteor shower. You have a perfect site to watch the show.”

As my words sunk in, their demeanor leapt from cordial/reserved to unbridled excitement in about two seconds flat.

“A meteor shower! Tell us more.”

Extraordinary Encounters and Sacred Memories

And so I did. Pointing toward a peak in the northeastern sky, my finger traced out where they would probably originate, and which way they might fly. As I hiked through the brush back to our campfire, I remembered other extraordinary encounters with strangers. The first time I saw a whale breach in Hawaii, jumping up and down with a woman who was similarly gobsmacked by the sight. The rays of a setting sun exploding  through a crack between canyon walls, bathing worshipers in an other-worldly glow. These, and other times, live in my memory as golden moments; extraordinary events to be treasured for their sanctity.

The overwhelming beauty and majesty of God’s creation made them memorable, but to me, sharing them with other human souls made them sacred.

Eventually the sun set and dusk gave way to darkness. Stars came out one by one; then stars by tens, and stars by hundreds. The night grew so dark that the Milky Way glowed a faint green, something I’d never seen before. And finally, like quicksilver, they began to whisk out of the night, darting here and there- bright and faint, short-lived and long-tailed, arcing across the sky above the lake. Out of the corners of our eyes we’d catch movement and try to turn our heads in time. Every once in a while we’d be looking in just the right direction, straight on, and watch in amazement as they streaked along the peaks to the east. The sky would quiet for a while, with stationary points of light studding the darkness with diamonds. And we would wait.

Finally Kevin and I could stay up no longer, so we put the fire out and turned in for the evening. The neighbors were still out there, still watching, with the occasional “ooh!” and “ahh!” whispered through the cold night air.

As we were packing up to leave the next morning, guess who came “air-knocking” through the forest?

“Eddie woke me up at 2:30am to come back outside!”  She was just tickled, and surprised. Tickled that she and Eddie (each in their seventies) would do something so spontaneous; surprised by the celestial light show  orchestrated by God and shared with a stranger.

I never learned her name; I wouldn’t recognize her if I saw her on the street. I don’t know if she was a Republican, a Trumper, or an Evangelical Christian. These three categories of people have broken my heart and support a regime that threatens the very democracy my family fought to protect. It’s easy to resent the groups, but the groups are made up of people. And therein lies the problem.

The Problem Isn’t Us versus Them; It’s Them Pitting Us Against Us

Our country is at the boiling point in the divide between these two people groups. We listen to different news sources (Fox News versus everyone else) and make up our minds accordingly. There is a great evil that perpetrates false conspiracy theories with the intent to divide us. Foreign leaders use our high-ranking officials as puppets, also with the intent to divide us. Personally, I feel betrayed by the very people I trusted most, and powerless to stop the evil. It’s so tempting to take the low road.  Fortunately, the words of Michelle Obama ring my ears: “When they go low, we go high.”

But ultimately, it’s the words of my Savior that are written on my heart. “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.” “Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you.” The list goes on and on. Even though the Evangelical Church has betrayed the teachings of Jesus Christ, His Word stands forever. One of His own disciples betrayed Him. His closest friends turned their backs, and His own church murdered Him. And still He loved them, and gave His life for us all.

This Too Shall Pass

As hard as it seems at the moment, this time in history will pass. What now seems apocalyptic will, at some point, have scholars scratching their heads and saying, “what the heck was that about?” I’m old enough to remember the assassinations of JFK, RFK, and MLK. I remember Vietnam and Watergate and riots and Kent State. Throughout history we’ve been infiltrated by evil. This is the only instance in my lifetime where the church was blatantly responsible, but it’s far from the only time in history.

And still, He loves us. And He instructs us to do the same.

Everyone who knows me knows I will fight with all my strength to remove Donald Trump from office. I have no misgivings about this; rather, I would be a coward and remiss as a Christian not to do so. But I must endeavor, as I think we all should, to hate the evil and not the individuals. If our country is to survive, we will all have to forgive eventually. The least I can do today is try to resist the urge to go low, and to see the person rather than the policy.

If I succeed, that will be quite enough to accomplish for one day. Whether I do or not, I will try again tomorrow.

©2020 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

This post was published by Red Letter Christians.

What Gives Us Hope

“Only in the darkness can you see the stars.”– Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

Twilight lingers for hours in this second week of July. God’s paintbrush softly tints our western Colorado sunsets in wispy peaches and pinks, while purple thunderheads rise in the distance.  Colors fade slowly in the translucent sky. Hours seem to pass before the pale turquoise light gives way to nightfall, leaving stars to find their shimmer long after we’ve gone to bed.

Kevin and I have been watching these evenings unfold while camping in the San Juan Mountains. I’m always a little afraid of full-on nightfall because of the bears. Yep, they’re out there. I have an internal tug-of-war over wanting to watch the stars come out and knowing Yogi lurks in the shadows. I’ve had a bear sneak up on me before, and it’s not an experience I want to repeat.

But one of the perks of living in the Rockies is to watch the firmament of Heaven reveal itself after the fading of day. The Milky Way spills diamonds across our night sky. Shooting stars split the darkness. No man-made show rivals the glory of the Universe unveiled when the sun goes down. It’s worth staying up for. It’s even worth braving the bears.

The Dying of the Light

The process of living my last three years as an Evangelical Christian was like watching the light fade away. Because of Trump and the Religious Right’s political movement, I knew the end was coming. There was so much about that life that I loved, and it broke my heart to say goodbye.

But as Edmund Burke so famously observed, “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” We could no longer support an organization that stands behind our current president. As spring turned to summer, we said goodbye to the life in which we had given our all. Years of worship and potlucks and prayer chains and teaching Sunday School and serving on committees and annual clean-up days and friendships and Bible Studies and small groups are now just cherished memories.

Also, I’ve been  afraid of the dark. It’s only been two years since we moved three hundred miles from our community. As long as we were part of a church here, I knew we would have people in our corner. Leaving church meant we would be alone. Just us and the bears.

But the day came when we both knew it was time. We cleanly cut the cord with no idea of what would come next. Surprisingly, I feel better.  I’m sad, but no longer angry. We just don’t believe the same things. And shockingly, I’m not scared. It may appear it’s just us and the bears in the dark, but I’m coming to find out there is light in the darkness I knew nothing about. And that’s where hope comes in.

Being firmly ensconced in church, I never looked beyond the sanctuary doors to discover other ways Christianity is being lived out. Sure, I knew there were other denominations, and that’s always a possibility going forward. But thanks to people much younger than myself, I’m learning there’s a whole world of Jesus-lovers doing their best to live out our Savior’s commands completely detached from the Religious Right’s political juggernaut. And they are rockin’ it.

I am finding hope in online communities like Evolving Faith and Red Letter Christians. I always find hope, and explanations for the difficulties of these times, in the Gospels. Young people are seeing the hypocrisy of speaking Jesus out one side of the mouth and espousing Trump from the other. My son and daughter-in-law have opened my eyes to a world of possibilities I never knew existed. These two dear ones are firmly based in the Word of God, and they have encouraged me to step into the world of today and take a look around.

And what I’m seeing is making me think.

No Longer Afraid of the Dark

I don’t agree with all the new ideas, just as I don’t disagree with everything the Old Order of Church believed.

I do agree with Jesus. I’m still on my year-long walk through the Gospels, studying with trusted commentaries on every step I take. Having our Savior’s teachings as the Gold Standard for belief, for behavior, and for love completely satisfies my deep need to know the Truth. And the Truth is setting me free once again.

Now the days are getting shorter, but I’m no longer afraid of the dark. Of course, the bears are still there. But I’m taking courage from knowing others are beating the bushes alongside me, searching for Jesus no matter what dangers lurk in the shadows. Communities exist in this brave new world, and I’ve been welcomed there. As a matter of fact, everyone is welcome there. And fewer daylight hours make it easier to watch the stars come out. The Milky Way spills diamonds across our night sky. Shooting stars split the darkness. No man-made show rivals the glory of the Universe unveiled when the sun goes down. It’s worth staying up for. It’s even worth braving the bears.

I want to watch the stars find their shimmer.

©2020 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had so hoped this day would never come.

Thirty-five years ago, I bucked my family’s belief system and fell into Jesus’ arms. I found Him through a born-again Christian woman who spent years praying for me. It took her even longer to get me into a church; I just couldn’t imagine rubbing shoulders with all those “holy” people. At that point, we didn’t have a lot in common. But little by little, I learned their ways. I liked their music. I adored their Jesus. And they showed me a love I had never seen before: what it meant to be a part of the body of Christ.

So for most of my adult life I have been a born-again Christian, attending Evangelical Churches. Within their walls I found a family and community I could never have imagined beforehand. Within their belief system I learned how to study the Bible, so I could really get to know my Savior. Within their arms I found comfort and support through the ups and downs of life. Through their prayers I found the courage to have faith. Through our friendships I found the connection to humanity I always wanted.

I felt that, short of Heaven, I had found Home.

Yesterday, I said goodbye.

My heart was truly shattered when my daughter Catherine died suddenly,  but this pain isn’t like that. This is more of a prolonged agony. In some ways, leaving is a relief. When Trump was elected I was just plain flabbergasted. As time went on, I absolutely believed that Evangelical Christians, my own people, would see who he is and that his agenda runs contrary to the teachings of Jesus. I was woefully ignorant of the political juggernaut known as the Religious Right. Last September, I started reading up on the movement. What I found sickened me. They are not about Jesus. They are about power. And boy, did they get it in Trump.

Since this is a postmortem rather than an exposé, I’ll spare you the details. All that really matters about dealing with a great loss is recognizing its enormity, grappling with its implications, and accepting that life will never be the same. I really did go through all of Elizabeth Kübler-Ross’s stages of grief during these last few months:

Denial: You’ve got to be kidding me. They can’t see through this guy?

Anger: Who’s responsible for leading these people astray?

Bargaining: If I just point out the flaws in their logic, they will get it.

Depression: Oh, my God. We’re going lose our family. Our community. What’s going to happen to us? We’ll be all alone. They really believe this. They support Trump. This is not going to change.

Acceptance:

“Dear Leadership Team: Seeing the events taking place in the church over the last several years makes us so sad and disheartened that just entering a church brings us to the point of tears. After months of prayer, and with great sorrow and regret, we ask that you remove our names from your membership roll and cease communications. Thank you for the time we were able to spend with you, and we wish you all the best.”

And so yesterday, it was finally over. No one who knows us will be surprised, but there will still be some who are sorry to see us go.

I know there are other kinds of churches that aren’t part of the Religious Right political movement, some who even consider themselves Evangelical. I’m praying about where God would have us go next. The heavy weight of grief is still parked on my chest. But barely within earshot is a whisper of hope that there will be another family out there, somewhere.

Goodbye to this version of the Evangelical Church. May God open your eyes before it is too late.

©Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC, 2020. All Rights Reserved.

*This article was reprinted online at Red Letter Christians. org

Jesus Christ Is The Same Yesterday and Today and Forever

-Hebrews 13:8

A few months into this pandemic, COVID-19 seems to be tragically dividing our country even further than the election of Donald Trump. This time, though, I understand both sides of the argument. Tens of millions of us have lost our jobs, or have been furloughed. Each state’s Department of Labor has been hit by a tidal wave of claims, hundreds of thousands beyond their normal workload. Consequently, many of us cannot access unemployment benefits because we simply cannot get through to them. Long lines of cars queue up for food. We do not know how long we can afford to live without work. On this, I think we can all agree.

If you are one of the people who thinks this is a hoax, you’ll want to stop reading here. Both my husband and I suffered through COVID-19 for six weeks. I’m writing from reality.

I will not give space to any arguments that insist on defying public health orders. Christians especially are instructed by Jesus to love their neighbors. That means respecting the rights of our fellow humans and obeying the laws that govern us all. Seeing a maskless shopper at the supermarket is no big deal to some of us, but it strikes terror into the heart of my immuno-compromised next-door neighbor.

Sadly, the divide in our country is widening. I didn’t think it was possible. Trump’s followers are splintering off into an increasing number of antisocial sects: the QAnons, the white supremacists, the boogaloos. No, I’m not making this up. And no, I haven’t researched all of them- these are just the groups that have broken into mainstream news. In the midst of a worldwide pandemic, the only person who even has a shot at bringing our country together is fostering revolt against the very authorities who are trying to keep us safe.

Two months into this sequestration, I believe the question I’ve been asking since the inception of this site has been amped up considerably. Now more than ever, we should be asking ourselves:

What’s a Christian to do?

Though some of the major crazies have defied orders and continued to attend in-person church services, most of us haven’t seen the inside of our local sanctuary since March. Many pastoral staffs, including our own, have worked to post sermons online and send weekly email updates to their congregations. Prayer chains are still in force and active. Members call, email, and Zoom each other. Some volunteer with food banks, crisis intervention, and community outreach programs. The church, as it was, seems to be alive and well.

Personally, I’ve used this quiet interlude to reflect on what this particular Christian is supposed to do. I’ve come up with more questions than answers.

My biggest problem, and it seems insurmountable, is that so many of these revolting fringe groups are part of the Religious Right.

I would be horrified to discover that any of them attend my church, but statistically speaking, it’s possible. There’s no way of telling who we really are behind our Sunday personas.

For all the angst I’ve suffered over the Religious Right’s support of Trump as president, the church is still home to my heart. I will never knowingly support any organization that believes Trump’s policies line up with Jesus’ teachings, but there is just no substitute for a church family. For months now I’ve wrestled with whether or not I am right to even rub shoulders with an  organization that’s gone so far astray; but I also wonder: Who will be my family if I walk away?

Lastly, the most confounding aspect to the COVID-19 crisis is that NO ONE knows what’s going to happen, except God. No one.

No one knows when we will actually develop and receive a vaccine. No one knows if it will work. No one knows when kids will be able to go back to school. No one knows if or when the economy will recover. No one knows if churches will simply be a breeding ground to spread the contagion.

It’s like knowing when Jesus Christ will return. We’d all like to know, but the Father isn’t sharing the information.

So with that in mind: how then shall we live?

I’ve had some time to think this over. I can’t go wrong with keeping my eyes fixed on Jesus, praying that God will supernaturally remove Trump from office, and refusing to surrender my serenity to his insanity. Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. I’m still on this year’s journey through the Gospels, getting to know Him a little better every day.

Also, YouTube  has been running a television series called, “The Chosen.” This 2017 episodic drama is based on the life of Jesus Christ, and created, directed and co-written by American filmmaker Dallas Jenkins. It’s an absolute delight to watch, except that it feeds my yearning to see our Lord sooner than later. There are only a few episodes so far, but they are like cool water on parched ground.

A local non-profit organization lets me write for them, and I get to spend time with some awesome teenagers who raise funds and supply the food banks in town. Now that’s something Jesus would endorse.

I keep in touch with friends, both Christian and otherwise. And I pray. A lot.

And I’m trusting God. Someday, whether here or in Heaven, everything is going to be okay. Better than okay. And I look forward to that like most people look forward to vacation.

While I know that nothing happens apart from the perfect and/or permissive will of God, let me just say that I do not think we needed this pandemic. The USA was already in deep weeds. But we know that God “causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.”¹ This disease is probably not a judgment on any particular people group or political party. It’s an equal opportunity horror.

In the meantime, we can each ask God how He would have us be His hands and feet in the midst of this crisis. We can respect our neighbor’s concerns and obey the laws that govern us all. We can pray. A lot. And we can cling to the promise that this life is not all there is. For those of us who worship at the feet of our Lord, someday we will have no more pain or suffering, disease or heartache. He who intercedes for us even now (Romans 8:34) will be waiting. And He is the same yesterday, today, and forever. Hallelujah! What a Savior.

©2020 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

_{1  Matthew 5:45}

Joseph of Arimathea Buries Jesus

Matthew 27:57-60 New International Version (NIV)

⁵⁷ As evening approached, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who had himself become a disciple of Jesus. ⁵⁸ Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body, and Pilate ordered that it be given to him. ⁵⁹ Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, ⁶⁰ and placed it in his own new tomb^(B) that he had cut out of the rock. He rolled a big stone in front of the entrance to the tomb and went away.

This year marked my first real observation and participation in the season of Lent. Having been born again at the age of thirty into the Evangelical Christian Church, I never quite understood the tradition. It seemed to begin with dirt on one’s forehead, a giant party in New Orleans, and giving up sugar or booze for six weeks. The Evangelicals I met never seemed to put much stock in it, so neither did I.

This year was different. For the first time since I met Jesus in 1986, I no longer put much stock in the Evangelical Church. I spent the first two years of Trump’s presidency convinced they would realize his policies bore no resemblance to Jesus’ teachings. The Religious Right political juggernaut is like a runaway train, commandeered by leaders in a quest for power. Like a movie where the bad guys toss the hapless sidekick off the caboose, I landed alone in the bushes, miles from anywhere. I finally picked myself up, dusted myself off, and went in search of another life.

Love For Lent

Through Red Letter Christians, I found a forty-day series of Lenten devotions by Pastor Tim Otto of The Church of the Sojourners.  “Love for Lent” walked me through the Sermon on the Mount,  coincidentally overlapping my own in-depth journey through Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Professor William Barclay (1907-1978) and I had already covered the earlier chapters in his series The New Daily Study Bible. Armed with Barclay’s excellent historical reference guide and Pastor Tim’s perspective on this sacred season, I came into the home stretch of my Lenten journey, studying what surely must have seemed like The Worst Day Ever.

Dark Saturday. That’s what Pastor Tim’s devotion for this day is titled, sandwiched between Good Friday and Easter. In these last messages, he led us through Holy Week as recounted through the eyes of Matthew, the tax collector. Dark Saturday’s devotion illuminated the last event of The Worst Day Ever. Professor Barclay offered this observation on Joseph of Arimathea:

“Now none of Jesus’ relatives was in a position to claim his body, for they were all Galileans and none of them possessed a tomb in Jerusalem (according to Jewish law, even a criminal’s body might not be left hanging all night, but had to be buried that day). So the wealthy Joseph of Arimathea stepped in. He went to Pilate and asked that the body of Jesus should be given to him; and he cared for it, and put it in a rock tomb where no one had ever been laid…It is certainly true that in the end Joseph displayed the greatest courage. He came out on the side of a crucified criminal; he braved the possible resentment of Pilate; and he faced the certain hatred of the Jewish authorities.”¹

There are several possibilities regarding Joseph, but it is known that he was a member of the Sanhedrin, and Luke tells us that “he had not agreed to their plan and action” (Luke 23:51). It’s quite possible that Caiaphas left him out of the murderous plot. His church, of which he was a ruling judge, elder, and rabbi, set the tragedy in motion. Joseph stood alone, loving his Savior and King.

As I mediated this morning on Joseph’s actions, I tried to put myself in his place. Jesus’ body had been absolutely torn to pieces. The thorn of crowns shoved down upon his brow no doubt tore holes in his face. He was beaten beyond recognition. The lash, studded with sharpened bone and bits of rock, shredded the flesh on his back. Tufts of his beard had been ripped out. Spikes had been driven through his wrists and feet, and a spear had been thrust into his side. Only on television do most of us ever see such a stomach-turning sight. To lift the lifeless, broken body of our best friend, our Lord and Savior, and have his blood stain our clothes while we prepare his body for burial- we cannot even imagine.

Did Joseph sob as he wrapped the shroud? Did he gag from the stench? Did he ever get that sight out of his mind? Did he throw his clothes away? What happened when he closed his eyes? Did he eventually recover from his worst day ever?

There’s no Biblical record of whether Joseph of Arimathea ever saw our resurrected Savior here on this earthly plane. But considering that he was a follower of our Lord, they’ve undoubtedly met in glory. That horrific memory is now a sacred scene shared by Joseph and Jesus, forever celebrated as a beautiful act of love. The agony was part and parcel of the greatest miracle the world has ever known- the empty tomb, sunlight scattering the darkness when the stone was rolled away.

Challenging the Status Quo

I’d love to ask Joseph what happened after Resurrection Day. Did he ever go back and take his place among those who murdered Jesus? If not, how did he build a new life outside the walls of the church? What did he do with the time he had left? What would he say to encourage those of us who challenge the status quo?

The events of Holy Week, specifically Good Friday, Dark Saturday, and Resurrection Sunday, should challenge all Christ-followers to examine our overriding, unbridled passion for loving Jesus. How are we living out His commands here on Earth?

After months of prayer seeking direction, I am volunteering with a nonreligious, nonpolitical non-profit organization that lends aid to traumatized refugees on our southern border. Trump’s policies have violated many of Jesus’ commands, but I believe the ones that break my heart the most are Biblical mandates and instructions regarding care for aliens, strangers, and refugees. Talk is cheap, but time is valuable. Being the squeamish sort, I would never have survived Joseph’s task of burying Jesus. Thankfully I’ve been welcomed to assist an organization that provides the comfort He would have provided. The truth shines brightly even without the label.

On the night before he was crucified, Jesus offered this mixed blessing to his disciples, as well as those of us who follow in their footsteps: “In this world you will have trouble…” This side of Heaven, we will always have evil to contend with. But then comes the promise we can cling to without reservation:

“..but take heart! I have overcome the world.”- John 16:33 NIV

So take heart, my friends. Stand up for what is right. Pray hard. Don’t give up. Heaven’s coming! Happy Easter.

©Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC 2020. All Rights Reserved.

1 The Daily Study Bible, The Gospel of Matthew Volume Two, William Barclay. WJK Westminster John Knox Press. ©The William Barclay Estate, 1975, 2001.

The New Normal Strikes Again

Last month, my husband and I observed the twentieth anniversary of our daughter Catherine’s death. Losing her changed us forever. She died in an accident while on a church outing with her youth group. Although the searing pain subsided some time ago, this kind of loss is not something you “get over.” You change. You live differently. And you learn. Boy, do you learn.

One of the concepts that just fried my bacon at the time, and honestly still does, is what people call “the new normal.” I didn’t want a new normal. I wanted Catherine back. I wanted to have to cook special foods to compensate for her allergies. Instead, I stood mutely in the supermarket, absolutely incapable of making a menu for the just the three of us without substituting buffalo for beef and rice for potatoes. I wanted to drive her to band practice and argue about her messy room and laugh with her over dumb jokes.

I guess I finally got used to the new normal. Twenty years later my heart still hurts over how much I miss her, but I am different because she died. Surviving tragedy gave me clarity on how to discern what’s important and what’s not.  And that’s not a bad thing.

At The Intersection of New and Normal

In recent days, I’ve found myself loitering at the crossroads of New and Normal once again.

I spent the month of January coughing my lungs out with no voice, no sleep, and no energy. I wrote nothing. What I did do was listen. I read, I prayed, and God spoke. Here’s what I heard Him say:

He is the only Person who never changes. Since all other sentient beings change, so do all relationships. Usually I grieve these changes. The more important they were to me, the deeper the sorrow. My relationship to the Christian community was of paramount importance to me. I’ve been so blessed to have experienced deep emotional and spiritual ties, but let’s face it: nothing stays the same. Before the election of Trump, I was blissfully unaware of the rise of the Religious Right as a political power. The last three years have been a heartache of discovery, but facing the truth is helping me determine what I want the rest of my life to look like.

Fortunately, the second thing I heard God say is that I am not alone. Kevin gave me Shane Claiborne’s book The Irresistible Revolution, and it blew my mind. There is a whole world of Christians who believe as I do, and who are illuminating Jesus simply by how and where they show up to serve and support.  I am learning so much about constructive protest. At this point I don’t know how that will figure into my mission between here and senility, but I trust God will reveal this along with the logistics for action.

Experiencing God by Henry Blackaby

Speaking of revelation, the third thing I heard God say was, “wait.” As I’ve mentioned before, I’m rereading Experiencing God by Henry Blackaby. One of the seven realities of Experiencing God says “God Takes the Initiative.” All through Scripture, when the Lord had something He wanted to accomplish, it was He who approached humanity. His servants, a motley crew to say the least, had a few things in common, but primarily this: they were willing. They loved God to the best of their abilities, they listened, and they were willing. None of them approached the Creator and said, “hey God, I have this great idea! What if we…?”

No. Most of them were just minding their own business when they saw a burning bush, or God showed up with blueprints for a boat, or angels walked into their camp, or an itinerant carpenter called them to fish for men. So for the moment, I am content to do what I feel He has called me to do thus far, and that is to keep writing.

The new normal is usually sad, at least for a time. It always involves loss. This is no surprise, given what Jesus had to say in John 16:33: “In this life, you will have trouble.” But there is so much hope in what He said next: “But take heart! I have overcome the world.” And talk about living differently! As one of my editors used to say, “Now yer talkin’!”

Is There Hope for Living Differently?

Anyone who knows me at all knows that I am so looking forward to Heaven. Were it not for the assurance that everything will be okay in the end, I simply couldn’t go on. Sometimes I use it as a crutch. I give up when I need to persevere. It would be so easy to do that now. I can’t toe the company line on the Religious Right’s agenda, and being the voice of reason (Remember Jesus!) seems to fall on deaf ears. I don’t want to hurt my friends’ feelings. To take my marbles and just go home is tempting. But I know it’s not the path laid out for me.

So for now, I will continue to read and learn and speak up, and in the meantime, pray for a New Normal. One where I can serve and socialize with like-minded believers. Sure, we might hoist a protest sign or two, but I’m hoping for a more productive venture that gives the world a glimpse of Jesus. When we really see Him, the glaring contradictions with Trump’s policies are obvious and will require no clarification.

And when the time is right; when everything here is said and done in my brief stay on Earth: Heaven is coming!

When I get home, Catherine will be right there! And thanks to the answers God gives us in His Word, I know that she will still be Catherine, only made perfect. She still gets to be her same self, but wrapped in the love and light of Jesus. I can’t wait. And as for all this political nonsense- the real Jesus will be revealed, much to the guaranteed astonishment of us all. And the New Normal, the Glorious Normal,  will be very, very good indeed.

©2020 Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

 

Christmas Miracles and True Heroes

A few weeks ago I wrote  What Do Heroes Look Like? I’m happy to report that many courageous of heart are coming out of the woodwork. Pastors, evangelists, writers and publishers are asking the same questions the rest of us are- but they lend their credentials to the cause.

Truth be told, anyone who knows Jesus and has read the Gospels can recognize that the actions and policies of Donald Trump bear little, if any, resemblance to the teachings and actions of Jesus Christ. But when those of us outside the Evangelical Establishment lob our questions into the holy huddle,  we simply watch them bounce off the halos of those in the know. We are labeled ignorant, liberal, anti-American, non-patriotic, and just downright wrong. There may even be more sinister insinuations, depending upon how often we pester them and how much noise we make.

Powerful Evangelicals Can Bridge the Gap

Many Evangelicals have simply walked away from the church. We came to see Jesus, to hear about Jesus, and to learn how Jesus followers are supposed to live. Most normal folks have no time, money, tools, or armament to protest. It breaks our hearts to leave our spiritual families, but we are absolutely unwilling to participate in any ministry that supports Donald Trump.

What a tragedy.

But more and more Jesus-lovers are taking the risk, and I am ecstatic.

WE ARE NOT ALONE!

Christianity Today Magazine Joins the Fight!

I’ve already introduced  Red Letter Christians and the Reclaiming Jesus Movement. I am thrilled to report that now we have the support of Christianity Today Magazine.

A few days ago, Mark Galli, the Editor-in-Chief of Christianity Today, braved the inevitable firestorm of hatred when he was courageous enough to shine a light on the elephant in the room- the utter contemptibility of Donald Trump. Trump devotees insisted that a retraction was sure to follow.

Au contraire, my friends.

Today Timothy Dalrymple, President of Christianity Today, expounded on why CT is taking the stance against the shameful actions of our commander-in-chief. Here is his own editorial, in its entirety:

The Flag in the Whirlwind

I am thanking God today for the courage of everyone who stands up and challenges the Religious Right for their mind-boggling support of Donald. But I especially thank those with skin in the game- the pastors, evangelists, writers, publishers, and other Christian public figures who are willing to risk the loss of revenue, friends, respect, and maybe more. May God bless you and keep you. And may God deliver us from the crazy man in the White House. Amen, and Merry Christmas indeed!

©Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC, 2019. All Rights Reserved.

 

Christians Celebrating Christmas

The day after tomorrow, Christmas will herald joy to the world, hosted by Jesus followers from every corner of the Earth.

Normally this is a time of great rejoicing for Christians. We lay aside any minor grievances to sing carols and drink eggnog. We celebrate what we believe to be the greatest news in human history: that God Almighty sent his Son to save us from our sins. We welcome anyone and everyone to join the celebration, and many cultures around the globe do just that. Here in the United States, we suffer no fear of persecution for celebrating our faith. With all its glitter, glitz, and overwhelming sugar overload, we as a community of faith remember the birth of our newborn King. He is, as we say, the Reason for the Season.

But do we ever stop to ask ourselves this question:

What to give Jesus for Christmas?

We Evangelicals claim the Bible to be the true and inspired Word of God. It is only from this book that we know of our Lord’s love for us, and the sacrifice of His Son for our sin. Jesus’ birth signified what we consider to be THE turning point in history: God’s wrath on this sinful world would fall, eventually and in its entirety, on this sinless baby.  Born a refugee, Jesus grew up to be a homeless, Middle-Eastern Jewish carpenter and itinerant rabbi . The religious establishment of his time despised him, eventually leading to his murder. In his short ministry, He stood up for all the hated and downtrodden folks of the time: tax collectors (who were actually extortionists and thieves), adulterers, prostitutes, women, children, and more. The only folks on His naughty list were the Pharisees, with whom He took very vocal and public exception.

As believers, we have given our hearts to Jesus in exchange for His saving grace. We cling to the promise that our hero, our Savior, will be standing between us and God Almighty when we walk into eternity. He asks nothing of us except for our love, our trust, and our surrender. To the outlaw on the cross dying alongside our sinless Savior, Jesus granted this one request: “Remember me when you come into your Kingdom.” (Luke 23:39-43)

This criminal, by his own admission, was only receiving the punishment that he himself deserved. Asking Jesus for this one favor may have been the only right decision he ever made.

First note what Jesus did not say. He did not say, “Are you sorry for your sins?” He did not say, “What country are you from, anyway? Are you here legally?” He did not say, “you should have worked honestly for your living- you don’t deserve any help. This is your own fault.” He said only this, which is the greatest promise ever made:

“I tell you the truth, today you will be with me in paradise.”

Now there are a bunch of folks in Scripture who seem to deserve this promise. In the book of Hebrews, chapter 11 is called “the roll call of faith.” Countless Old Testament saints are remembered for their courage and their refusal to give up, even when faced with impossible odds. In reading the New Testament, we encounter more heroes; those who walked with Jesus, and those who never met Him but still believed, even to persecution and death. I find great comfort in knowing their stories, all of them, because each provides a particular precedent. Their individual challenges, enriched with the details of both the beauty and the brokenness of their lives, provide examples of how to live, and give us hope for tomorrow.

But in truth, aside from Jesus Himself, my favorite character in the Bible is the criminal on the cross. To our knowledge, he never performed a selfless act. We don’t know his lineage, his nationality, his age, or even his name. He was never mentioned in Scripture either before or after Luke 23. Seemingly inconsequential, you might wonder why I love him and his story.

I do, because Jesus did. I do, because it reveals the very heart of God towards “the least of these.”

God’s Heart Towards “The Least of These”

I believe Jesus wants me to act exactly like that when it comes to helping people. The refugee, the criminal, the poor, the persecuted. These were the people He loved, and this story shines like a breaking sunrise on the Good News we’re supposed to live out.

So what can we give Jesus for Christmas?

We can obey his commands in Matthew 25:31-46, without asking people where they were born, or do they belong here. Without looking down on them because they speak a language other than English, or dress differently than we do. Without passing judgment on why they can’t afford health insurance or medical care. Without judging why they need food stamps or help to feed their children. We can stop the current administration from further tormenting the poor by suspending the programs they need to survive. We can vote out the politicians who steal from the poor to give to the rich.

And for those who believe that Matthew 25:31-46 does not apply to those of us who are already “saved”- that this will be a judgment for those left behind-I pose this question: Do you not believe that Jesus Christ, who welcomed a filthy criminal to accompany Him to Paradise, would want us to treat “the least of these” with the same compassion He showed? Our Savior was, and is, the most consistent character in history. He is, after all, God.

So Merry Christmas to all. We can still rejoice, because Jesus is now, and always will be, the King of Kings. We can lay aside any minor grievances to sing carols and drink eggnog. We can and should celebrate what we believe to be the greatest news in human history: that God Almighty sent his Son to save us from our sins. We welcome anyone and everyone to join the celebration. Here in the United States, we suffer no fear of persecution for celebrating our faith. We can overdose on sugar and remember the birth of our newborn King. He is still, and always will be, the Reason for the Season.

I’m grateful beyond words for Jesus’ sacrifice on the Cross for me. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine God would love me, and it’s taken me over half my lifetime to even begin to grasp it. As the old hymn “Rock of Ages” goes, “In my hand no price I bring; simply to Thy cross I cling.” I have no gift to give Him. I can only offer my love and my best effort to do what He asked, which is to attempt to love others as He does. And for this special season, that is resistance enough.

©Rachel Ophoff, Coconut Mountain Communications LLC, 2019. All Rights Reserved.