The Dragon Ezri Sees

Wisdom on Faith, Danger, and Caring For Others

The “whoosh” gives it away. Actually, Ezri whining at the door is the first sign. Hot Air Balloon morningOnly dogs can detect the shrill whistle of the burner, and she hears it long before the dragon looms overhead. She is terrified. Every day in summer, and on many mornings throughout all four seasons, visitors to Pagosa Springs rise at the crack of dawn and take to the skies.

Kevin and I love it! Who wouldn’t? Colorful characters come drifting over, dipping and lifting and giving visitors to our southern Rockies stunning views of the San Juan Range. At least twice a year, balloonists come from all over the country for festivals that fill our skies. Weekend warriors surprise us on random Saturdays with multiple launches. We keep lawn chairs in the garage so we can pull them into the driveway on a moment’s notice. Cool summer mornings, a cup of coffee, and a sky full of hot-air balloons. What could be better than that?

Even with her meager doggy mind, Ezri can think of a few things.

In fact, I believe she thinks we are probably idiots. She panics, each and every day. We’ve tried everything to calm her. Sadly, we cannot make her understand there is no danger. All we can do is take her fears seriously and pet her. This threat will pass in just a few minutes. We know this is nothing to be concerned about. I wish she understood plain English. All she knows is that there is a fire-breathing dragon just waiting for her moronic humans to step outside and risk incineration.

Whom Do You Trust?

I cannot help but see the parallels between the canine view of the world’s perils and my own. She knows nothing of Donald Trump, COVID-19, climate change, white supremacists, or any impending financial disaster. Her biggest concerns are:

“Are my food and water dish full?”

“Will one of them walk me soon?”

“Are my people okay?”

I once had a church fellow challenge me on comparing animal thought processes to ours, because humans alone are made in the image of God. While the Lord may have made us in His image, we can learn a lot about faith and devotion from our four-legged friends. Being human gives us some distinct advantages, including dubious choices about which of God’s commands to obey. Dogs, on the other hand, know a few good things for certain: chew toys, friendly playmates, food, water, playtime, nap time, and their people.

Hot Air Balloon FireEzri’s people are me and Kevin. She depends on us for food and water. She knows one of us will take her outside. In return, she offers unconditional love, unflagging devotion, and if necessary, the willingness to die to protect us should the need arise. She proved that one night when a drunk neighbor tried to walk into our house at 2 AM. We give her our best possible care, and she trusts us, her fallible, idiotic humans, to keep her safe from hot-air balloons.

We Trust Jesus

As humans, we have proof of God’s promise to care for us. When dragons are on the doorstep, we try to have faith that everything is going to be okay.

We trust that our food and water dishes will be full, because Jesus says, “Therefore, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink.”- Matthew 6:25 NIV

Because He said, “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age,” we know He will never leave nor forsake us. (Matthew 28:20 NIV)

The promises of God are numerous, gracious, and good. But what about His instructions to us? Here’s where it’s easy to fall short of canine behavior.

Do we really ask, “Are my people okay?”

In my prayers, I ask God to take care of my people. But the reality is, all my people are not okay. Even if my immediate circle of family and friends appear to be fine at the moment, our Savior was quite clear in His instructions. For followers of Jesus Christ, ALL people are our people. ESPECIALLY “the least of these.”

How do I know this?

Jesus said, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’, and ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.'” (Luke 10:27 NIV) When the expert in the law asked, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus responded with the story of The Good Samaritan.

In Matthew 25:31-46, Jesus gives clear instructions on how treat others in The Parable of the Sheep and the Goats.  Our Savior used simple stories to illustrate moral or spiritual lessons. None of us have to be rocket scientists to understand how He wants us to treat, and protect, our fellow humans.

I could go on and on, listing dozens of verses on how the Bible says we are to treat aliens and strangers in our land; how we are to treat orphans and widows, the poor, and the least of these. If you have questions, you can ask Google or Siri to find Bible verses with these key words.

The reality is, our people are not okay. We have a Biblical mandate, spread throughout the Scriptures, to take care of all people in our Savior’s name. For folks who profess to be followers of Jesus Christ, this is NOT OPTIONAL. THIS IS MANDATORY. And in these uncertain days, we must pull on our big kid pants and fight Trump’s agenda: to terrorize and vilify refugees; to overturn the Affordable Care Act and snatch health insurance from 23 million Americans; to take from the poor and give tax breaks to the rich; to deny a worldwide pandemic because it interferes with his pep rallies; to withdraw federal money for COVID testing; and to protect white supremacists from justice. The list is endless; this just captures the headlines from today.

The Dragon Ezri Sees

The terror Ezri feels over hot air balloons parallels the despair I feel over Trump. But then I remember: I am not distressed in the least over giant nylon bags of hot air. God is not in the least distressed over Donald Trump. While I cannot convince Ezri that the dragons are not going to incinerate us, I can trust God that He’s got the Trump situation in His hands. Before we know it, Donald will be a memory. The dragon will be slain.

The fire will be out.

And sadly, we’ll be on to the next challenge, because this ain’t Heaven. But if my dog doesn’t give up, I won’t either. Every stinkin’ morning at least one dragon will rise in her neighborhood. She’ll always believe her owners are idiots. She’ll panic for a few minutes, each and every day, until the danger has passed. We will take her fears seriously and pet her. We will pray for God’s Kingdom to come, for  all people, and for the courage, strength, and wisdom to take action and stand up for what is right.

And we will thank God for it all. Amen.

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

 

 

 

 

 

Saying Goodbye

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

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 Groceriesbeen 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?

Heart make america love again

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

The Worst Day Ever

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.

Jesus in stained glassThis 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 wereSunlight scatters the darkness 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.

Crucified Christ paintingOn 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.

Covid 19 versus White Supremacy: the Lesser of Two Evils

Coronavirus versus White Supremacy: Which Is Worse?

Our WorldCOVID-19 is shaking the planet. For the first time in our lives, we are weathering a global crisis. Here in the United States, many are experiencing what our own poor and Third World neighbors live with all the time: terror, upheaval, and financial insecurity. It stinks, doesn’t it? Most of us have no idea of what it must feel like to walk in their shoes. We don’t even want to walk down their street. We believe that’s where Real Fear resides.

The Stock Market versus Stocking Up at the Market

No one is more grateful than I for the provision of God. My husband and I don’t have the worries of those who invested in the stock market, because we are (by American standards) poor. Kevin’s job was suspended last week, and we’re not at all sure when it will resume. My job is as fluid in it’s certainty as every other paid-by-the-hour hireling. But we do have a small home, a small savings account, and no debt. Our kids are grown and gone. We are in far better straits than many.

With millions of Americans suffering from job loss as well as the fear of the Coronavirus, I will refrain at this time from lamenting the loss of Christianity in the US as we knew it. I will, however, request that those who believe Donald Trump leads our country in espousing Christian values: please put yourself in the shoes of the suffering. It’s a little easier to do now, isn’t it? Even though, secretly, we are pretty sure that our situation will improve. We are, after all, the United States of America. We are not trying to save our children from gang violence in Guatemala. We’d like to believe that most of us are not desperate to escape poverty. Then again, most of us are out of touch with people who need food stamps and Medicaid. When this is all said and done, who among us will have become “them”?

I hope this disaster reminds us all that we are not “the chosen ones.” If this crisis teaches us nothing else, let it bring home the fact that we are connected by heartstrings to every human on the planet. As Christians, we should be even more so. We are the Lord’s hands and feet on terra firma. Let us resist the temptation to use this nightmare to close ranks and pretend the Bible doesn’t teach compassion for aliens, kindness for strangers, and mercy for the poor. While we are mandated by common decency to help our neighbors, our own fear and suffering is no excuse to shake the rest of the world off of our privileged shoulders. They will still be there, and still be suffering, when we are back on our feet.

What is Real Evil?

COVID-19 is not evil. It’s a virus. But the emergence of this threat is inadvertently revealing a true evil, as is evidenced in today’s headline from ABC News: “White Supremacists encouraging members to spread coronavirus to cops, Jews: FBI”

This, my friends, is where my Real Fear resides.

These low-life scum completely believe that they are the “chosen ones”, and Donald Trump is their savior. It sounds like a bad joke from an SNL skit, but it’s terrifyingly true. Without giving them any air time or publicity, this unconscionable evil spun off from the Religious Right. They are real, they are the Devil Incarnate, and they have very weird ideas backed up by firearms, stockpiles of supplies, and compounds. They have their own news publications that make Fox News sound legit. If you thought the KKK was bad, you ain’t seen nothing yet.

Our gut-level fears usually come from the belief, however fleeting,  that we won’t have our needs met: food, shelter, security, freedom from emotional or physical pain. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus teaches his followers otherwise. From a lifetime of seeing God’s mercy in my own circumstances, I’d like to believe I will continue to trust Him for provision, no matter what happens. The real fear I have, even though I know God is not fazed by this dark reality, is the meteoric rise of white supremacy. Evil scares me far worse than any virus. Illness may kill the body, but evil kills the soul. The number of hate groups in Colorado tripled in eight years, according to an annual report on hate and extremism in America.*

I don’t know about you, but having read the Bible, I am absolutely certain that Jesus Christ would grieve over the actions of these bottom-feeding monsters.

Our World at Night

What Can We Do?

Folks, these are terrifying times. Go ahead and post uplifting memes on Facebook to encourage us all; that’s not a bad thing. Better yet, volunteer in your community to help stock the food banks. Brave the supermarket for the elderly. Read to kids over the internet. Do whatever good you can do.

But above all, do not be misled. The Coronavirus will pass, but evil will not be destroyed until the Day of Christ Jesus. Be on your guard, pray hard, read the Gospels, and live out the commands of our Lord and Savior. Stand up for the poor, the stranger, the hungry, and the homeless. And always remember:

“But though the wrong seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.”-from the hymn This Is My Father’s World, by Maltbie Davenport Babcock.

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

*by Megan Webber, The Denver Post, 3/19/2020

The New Normal

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.

North South East WestOne 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.

 

 

 

An Accidental Activist

“This above all: to thine own self be true”- Polonius to his son Laertes in Hamlet, Act 1, scene 3.

On the first day of a new year and a new decade, I’m astonished to find myself writing on  a regular basis. In a corner of our tiny living room, my keyboard and I snuggle up for some quality togetherness by the flicker of firelight. Classical music floats gently down Unadorned Fireplacearound us. I am flabbergasted. This feels a lot like my dream.

But in my dream, I get paid to write. I no longer have to slave over an adding machine. As a woman of a certain age, I would have had time and experience enough to make sense of my life and peace with the past. People would be interested in reading about it. I could meet with other writers over coffee, extolling the virtues of this lofty life of literature. Highly unlikely, I know. But this new reality is by far the closest I’ve ever come, and ironically, it’s not a story about me at all.

One of the reasons I never got around to writing on a regular basis (other than the critical need to make a living) is that, on the cusp of turning 64, making sense of my life and making peace with the past is just not that interesting. Not even to me. Now that I’m approaching that “vintage” season of my life, I completely understand why older people write their memoirs. We do want to make sense of it all. We want the people we love to understand us, and to remember us. We want to think we’ve made a dent in this world, knowing that all too soon we will be dust that blows away in the wind. If there had ever been anything exceptional about us, we want someone to know.

There has never been anything remarkable about me. But I met an extraordinary Someone, who blew into my life at the age of thirty in a whirlwind of thunder, lightning, healing, and mercy. The brokenness of abuse and addiction was the story I had to tell before, and sorry to say, those stories are a dime a dozen. This world is a tough place (as Jesus said in John 16:33). While they can be sad or sensational, tragic or terminal, there’s just nothing extraordinary about brokenness. Now healing- real healing of the heart, and the soul, and the human spirit-

Now there’s a story.

Anyone who knows me knows that I talk about Jesus all the time. Falling in love with Him is the best thing that ever happened to me. It would be like the local supermarket just started handing out hundred dollar bills. Wouldn’t you tell all your friends to get their cabooses down there and collect theirs? Of course you would! My friend Ellie* laughs when I say this, because she can’t imagine knowing Jesus would be that great of a deal. I tell her, “it’s even better!”

She loves me anyway. And I, her.

But as far as getting my Jesus stories out their publicly: those, too, are a dime a dozen. I never felt a burning need to get mine written and published, because hundreds of thousands of those stories are  immediately available online. Perhaps millions. That’s a good thing, for sure. But I didn’t believe that one more would make any real difference.

So I’ve made earning a living a higher priority than writing for most of my life. Almost everyone has to do that. And I would have continued on that same path; but one day, something awful happened. And for the first time in a long, long while, I could not be silent. I had to speak up, because deep in my soul, I am a writer.  This wasn’t about me. This was about that extraordinary Someone; someone I’d put up my dukes and fight for.

And that is how I have become an accidental activist.

Donald Trump was elected President of the United States.  Now we’ve suffered national crises before, and I was never moved to militancy. This development was far more egregious than just a conservative president versus li’l old liberal me. I didn’t panic when George HW Bush was elected.  I even voted for W. These were conservatives, to be sure, and professing Christians. The difference between them and Trump is that they actually acted like followers of Jesus Christ. While I may not have agreed with their every policy, I respected them and never doubted their faith. Almost all of Trump’s policies suggest that he is in no way familiar with the teachings of Jesus Christ; his words and actions confirm it.

The last straw was the staunch support of the Donald by people who profess to follow Jesus.

When I learned that my non-believing friend Ellie* thought that all Christians support Trump, I knew the time to speak out had arrived. She can’t be the only one who thinks that, and even one is too many.

Hope Spelled Out

When desperation drives a dream, motivation drives the dreamer. I couldn’t, and still cannot, live with the notion that people identify all Christ-followers as Trump supporters. There was never any question about how to protest this untenable situation. In short order, I researched the Christian Resistance movement; I secured the domain names; I taught myself how to construct a WordPress 2017 website. And then I began to write.

Now, I laugh as I think of myself as “living the dream.” I’m still slaving over an adding machine. I’m definitely not getting paid to write. The only part of this process that resembles my original dream is the classical music, the firelight, and curling up with my keyboard. The surprise, however, has come from experiencing an unforeseen freedom.

There is no part of this that is about me, except that the Go Daddy account is in my name. I don’t have to worry that this will be interesting enough for people to read. I don’t have to worry about how many readers I’m reaching. I don’t have to feel guilty that I’m doing it for free, spending time and money on  a pursuit I love. I don’t even have to worry about coming up with inspiration, since Donald never ceases to provide fuel for the fire.

And within me burns a crazy contentment, because when I write, I am working the muscles of the gift God gave me. And finally, I am living the great instruction Shakespeare gave his characters Polonius and Laertes in Hamlet; one that has been adopted by Twelve Step groups and others around the world for centuries.

“This above all: to thine own self be true”- Polonius to his son Laertes in Hamlet, Act 1, scene 3, 78-82.

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

*My friend has a great name- it’s just not Ellie

Christmas Miracles and True Heroes

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. Peering Through the Darkness

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.

 

What To Give Jesus For Christmas?

Christians Celebrating Christmas

Light Through the CrossThe 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 Hand holding cross in waterpeople. 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.

Green Pastures in Winter

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.”1

 

On the teeter-totter of the holiday calendar, we are smack in between Thanksgiving and Christmas. Southwestern Colorado is sunny with intermittent snow. Oslo is dark and wet. Recently, Kevin I spent nine days in Norway, visiting our son and his family. My flashlight came in handy, since the eight-hour time change awakened me four nights straight at two am. Initially I wondered what to do in the world’s darkest hours while everyone else was asleep. Thankfully, I had the opportunity to share another woman’s journey; one that resembled my own in our pain and angst over differences with the Evangelical Church. I read Searching For Sunday by the late Rachel Held Evans.

Aurora banner two

Rachel Held Evans* in Searching For Sunday

She was, as she described it, “a millenial with one foot in Gen X.” Born in 1981, she was 25 years younger than I, and almost the same age my daughter would have been. Our upbringings were wildly dissimilar. If Trump had not been elected President by the support of the Religious Right, I probably would never have heard of her. But as her story spilled out in the light from my tablet, illuminating those dark Norwegian nights, her pain of estrangement from the Evangelical Church mirrored my own. Her quest for answers from the church’s benevolent powers-that-be returned the same results. She had walked ahead of me down the road in search of solutions, and what she found will serve as a guide for what I attempt. Were we to sit down to coffee, I’m sure there are points on which we would have disagreed. But I am profoundly grateful to this woman I won’t meet until Heaven.

Going Public as The Christian Resistance

As I shared in a previous post, I waited over two years from the inauguration before I figured out that the Religious Right would continue to support Trump, no matter what he does. My greatest distress is knowing that many non-believers think all Christians endorse this president. I cannot imagine a worse impression. Neither can I, in good conscience, do nothing. In September I joined the Resistance by launching this website. I have begun to pray about how to counteract this misconception on a local level, but at this point, difficulties abound.

I love church life. Having been raised by crazy people, I first found love and acceptance in the embrace of the Evangelicals.  I also love my local church. Most of these folks are pretty taken with Trump, and the ones who aren’t don’t share their opinions openly. Just so there were no misunderstandings, I have been open about my leanings as well as my mission. And as I’ve shared before, almost everyone has accepted me with open arms. I don’t want to do anything to hurt them. Yet, I feel compelled to act on a local level, which means going public in a small town where everybody knows somebody who knows their everybodys. This action carries real consequences. Fortunately, I know more than to “look before I leap.” I have a go-to course of action that has served as my path for decision-making ever since I worked through the study Experiencing God, more than twenty years ago.

Experiencing God

For as long as it takes, I will pray. I will continue my annual walk through the Gospels, this time in the Daily Bible chronological format. I will listen. As Henry Blackaby wrote in Experiencing God, our Lord “speaks through the Bible, prayers, circumstances, and the church to reveal Himself, His purposes, and His ways.” Never has there been a time I have found this to be untrue. The only caveat may lie in the timing, because it doesn’t specify how long this process might take. That’s okay, though. I will continue to write, and the only place I might be going is Heaven. And in that case, problem solved.

Here on Earth, there’s no place like Norway for getting away from it all (except maybe for the Norwegians). God always knows what I need better than I do. When “He makes me lie down in green pastures,” I never quite know where those pastures might be. Oslo at two in the morning in November was neither green nor grassy.  But the place, the time, and the guide were the perfect combination to provide rest, encouragement, and perspective. I don’t know what the Lord will bring in terms of my next assignment. But considering how He works, I’m looking forward to that moment; one that illuminates possibilities I could never have imagined. And it will be just the right idea, at just the right time. That is the God I have come to know.

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

*Rachel Held Evans passed away on May 4, 2019, due to complications from medical treatment for an infection.

1 Psalm 23: 1-2, King James Version (KJV) Public Domain