Bob Rakestraw
In the United States, Thanksgiving Day was celebrated last week. Whether you live in the U.S. or in some other country on our common planet, I trust that you gave thanks to our gracious God for every blessing in your life.
I would like to use this brief posting to announce that my new book, “Heart Cries,” has just been released. I wrote this book, with the valuable help of my colleague and friend, Jane Spriggs, to encourage everyone to know God better through prayer. I have felt for years that misconceptions about God and his invitations to prayer have held back many people from the peaceful, joyful, confident life that God gives to those “praying by the Spirit in the midst of life” (the subtitle of the book).
Our desire in this book is to examine some basic biblical teachings about prayer, basic guidelines and approaches to prayer, and difficult questions about prayer, while devoting a major section of the book to actual prayers I have written and prayed over the past twenty-five years concerning some of the most crucial elements of life.
The book is grace-infused, not legalistic. I recommend it to you for your personal growth and comfort, as well as a gift book for those on your Christmas list. The cost is $13.99.
To order your copies please visit: www.createspace.com/900001812.
One more item: Jane and I, with our spouses, will be present at a book-signing for “Heart Cries” on Tuesday, December 7, 2010 from 12:00 – 1:00 pm. This will be at the Bethel Seminary Lower Campus Center, 3949 Bethel Drive, St. Paul, MN 55112. (It is actually in the city of Arden Hills, MN.) Please come if you are in the area and share with us some cider, cookies, candies, and conversation.
Lord, teach us to pray!
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Is There Any Hope?
Bob Rakestraw
Is there any reason to be hopeful? About worldwide malnourishment and disease? About seemingly endless wars and rumors of wars? About human trafficking, bloody drug battles, and cruel white-collar crime?
Is there reason for hope in our own lives—our families, friends, frustrations, finances and futures? Feelings of failure and of being unpopular pull us down. Awareness of our own limitations—whether related to physical health and skills or mental and psychological conditions—leave us feeling sometimes with little or no hope.
The word “hope” may be either a noun or a verb. As a noun, hope can mean, in part, “a feeling of expectation and desire combined,” or “what one hopes for.” As a verb it can mean “to feel hope, to expect and desire, to feel fairly confident” (Oxford American Dictionary). Hope is a good word, and a very strengthening thought.
When I struggled with depression a couple of years ago, the word that most closely expressed the way I felt was “hopeless.” I knew that God was still holding me with his strong hand and would bring me to glory at the end of my earthly life. I felt hopeless, however, because my health was broken and I lacked the energy and the will to do anything that I thought would be of service to God or humanity. The complications from my heart transplant of 2003 had been (and still are) steadily worsening, and I felt gripped by that heavy, almost-tangible condition of hopelessness. I felt unable to move forward in any meaningful way since I retired from teaching in 2005, yet I could not die—what I most longed for.
At the present time I am writing on hope, not because I feel in an upbeat mood, but precisely because I do not. While the depression described above has lifted significantly, I still have times when the shadows come, because of both physical health issues (quite a medley) and the lack of meaningful activity due to those issues. I chose to write on hope now because I hope, God willing, to explain briefly the firm hope that God has engendered in me, even when I have felt hopeless about the circumstances of life.
I am convinced that there is hope for the mega issues of this world and human existence and hope for the matters of daily living. The latter are more short-range, while the former encompass the broad sweep of our earthly life, and beyond. At times I have lacked the short-range hope, but always have known the deep hope of God’s providential care for the poor in spirit in this life and in the life to come.
Both the long-range, big-picture view of life, and the more immediate aspects of our everyday tasks, may be intended in the life-giving words of Romans 5. After “we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand….we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us….” For 25 years or more I have had these words on a shelf by my desk at home, where I naturally rest my eyes: “Hope does not disappoint us” (Rom. 5:5).
How can we become hopeful people, both concerning the sorry state of this planet and concerning our present issues: health, relationships, careers, finances, moods, and service to God and others?
The scripture just quoted shows one major route by which we become people of hope: we must first be people of character, and for that we need to develop perseverance, which comes from—of all things—suffering! This is contrary to the world’s thinking, but here it is in God’s word: if we endure suffering well, we will become hopeful people. We will come to see the depths of God’s wisdom and love for us, and for all his creation. We are not to seek suffering, as though that would speed up our maturation. Enough suffering will come to us all, but never more than we are able to bear (I Cor. 10:13).
It is not possible to live well without hope. In fact, many who are hopeless decide not to live at all. They choose suicide, while others continue with lives of “quiet desperation.” I urge each of you to face your present sufferings well (“we…rejoice in our sufferings”), so that you will know the deep hope that God gives. I have learned from my sufferings over a lifetime that God can be trusted (faith). This has given me strong hope to go on in the service of God and all his people (love).
“Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality” (Rom. 12:11-13). Faith, hope and love to you all.
Is there any reason to be hopeful? About worldwide malnourishment and disease? About seemingly endless wars and rumors of wars? About human trafficking, bloody drug battles, and cruel white-collar crime?
Is there reason for hope in our own lives—our families, friends, frustrations, finances and futures? Feelings of failure and of being unpopular pull us down. Awareness of our own limitations—whether related to physical health and skills or mental and psychological conditions—leave us feeling sometimes with little or no hope.
The word “hope” may be either a noun or a verb. As a noun, hope can mean, in part, “a feeling of expectation and desire combined,” or “what one hopes for.” As a verb it can mean “to feel hope, to expect and desire, to feel fairly confident” (Oxford American Dictionary). Hope is a good word, and a very strengthening thought.
When I struggled with depression a couple of years ago, the word that most closely expressed the way I felt was “hopeless.” I knew that God was still holding me with his strong hand and would bring me to glory at the end of my earthly life. I felt hopeless, however, because my health was broken and I lacked the energy and the will to do anything that I thought would be of service to God or humanity. The complications from my heart transplant of 2003 had been (and still are) steadily worsening, and I felt gripped by that heavy, almost-tangible condition of hopelessness. I felt unable to move forward in any meaningful way since I retired from teaching in 2005, yet I could not die—what I most longed for.
At the present time I am writing on hope, not because I feel in an upbeat mood, but precisely because I do not. While the depression described above has lifted significantly, I still have times when the shadows come, because of both physical health issues (quite a medley) and the lack of meaningful activity due to those issues. I chose to write on hope now because I hope, God willing, to explain briefly the firm hope that God has engendered in me, even when I have felt hopeless about the circumstances of life.
I am convinced that there is hope for the mega issues of this world and human existence and hope for the matters of daily living. The latter are more short-range, while the former encompass the broad sweep of our earthly life, and beyond. At times I have lacked the short-range hope, but always have known the deep hope of God’s providential care for the poor in spirit in this life and in the life to come.
Both the long-range, big-picture view of life, and the more immediate aspects of our everyday tasks, may be intended in the life-giving words of Romans 5. After “we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand….we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us….” For 25 years or more I have had these words on a shelf by my desk at home, where I naturally rest my eyes: “Hope does not disappoint us” (Rom. 5:5).
How can we become hopeful people, both concerning the sorry state of this planet and concerning our present issues: health, relationships, careers, finances, moods, and service to God and others?
The scripture just quoted shows one major route by which we become people of hope: we must first be people of character, and for that we need to develop perseverance, which comes from—of all things—suffering! This is contrary to the world’s thinking, but here it is in God’s word: if we endure suffering well, we will become hopeful people. We will come to see the depths of God’s wisdom and love for us, and for all his creation. We are not to seek suffering, as though that would speed up our maturation. Enough suffering will come to us all, but never more than we are able to bear (I Cor. 10:13).
It is not possible to live well without hope. In fact, many who are hopeless decide not to live at all. They choose suicide, while others continue with lives of “quiet desperation.” I urge each of you to face your present sufferings well (“we…rejoice in our sufferings”), so that you will know the deep hope that God gives. I have learned from my sufferings over a lifetime that God can be trusted (faith). This has given me strong hope to go on in the service of God and all his people (love).
“Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality” (Rom. 12:11-13). Faith, hope and love to you all.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Why Know God?
Bob Rakestraw
Lately I have been thinking about the over six billion people on this planet. Actually, I think about them a lot, but even more so in recent weeks. I think about the people who walk on the sidewalk near my home and those living on rickety rafts and boat-houses on the rivers of southeast Asia. I think of young and old, male and female, poor and rich, healthy and unhealthy. Mostly I grieve over the billions who don’t know God.
I want them to know God. I want everyone to know God, for their good in both this life and the life to come. But why should they want to know God? Even if, as is the case, the overwhelming majority of this world’s population believes in some kind of a God or exalted being (or beings), why should they desire to know God, or even know about God, more than they do?
This line of thinking leads me to write about the central reasons why I long to know God more fully and more personally than I now do. These are not primarily reasons to know more about God, although this is an inseparable part of my lifetime quest. These are, above all, my reasons for knowing God experientially—personally and intimately.
First, I want to know God because, frankly, my friendship with him gives me the most enjoyable quality of life that I can imagine on this earth. I was born again into the family of God in 1962, and have not once regretted that I was drawn into the body of Christ by the gracious pull of the cross. It is literally impossible for me to conceive of a more personally satisfying relationship with anyone (or ones) other than the all-mighty, all-merciful, and all-holy God of the Hebrew-Christian scriptures.
I have not always had the degree of satisfaction in God that I now have. This has been a growing relationship over many years. I have failed the Lord many times during my journey, but this was never because he abandoned me. I have been the one who did not remain in close fellowship with God as I should have. Yet he has always brought me back to himself, leading me again and again to repentance and forgiveness and full acceptance as his loved child.
Another reason I want to know God more fully is to know what to do with the rest of my life. While I am writing this after the most active and public years of my Christian service are likely behind me, I still have some time remaining on earth, even if it’s only a short while. Even in these, my “retirement” years, I never have considered myself retired. In my view, God’s people don’t retire. We, by God’s grace, live everyday seeking to do God’s blessed will, just as we have before finishing our more formal work life.
Circumstances—health, finances, activities, places, people—may change, but life as a child of God continues. I seek God through prayer, meditation in the Word, interaction with others, acceptance of my gifts and ministry opportunities, and experimentation, just as I did before my major work responsibilities changed in 2005. In that year, for health reasons, I needed to retire early from my position as Professor of Theology at Bethel Seminary in St. Paul, MN. But I am continually seeking to know how to serve others with the remainder of my life and resources, and to stay on a meaningful, useful and Christ-centered course, I want to know God more and more so that I sense the direction he has for me. I have no desire to flounder and fumble along until the end of my life. I remind myself often of the words of the apostle Paul: “Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:58).
My final reason is a spinoff from the second, which is a spinoff from the first. I want to know God because I want to know, more and more, how he thinks, feels, and acts in this world, so that I may think, feel, and act like him. The longer I live the more saddened, as well as encouraged, I become over the condition of the peoples of the earth. I grieve and I rejoice; I scratch my head in bewilderment and I have glimpses of light and hope. I desire to know God so that I may—as much as is possible in this life—see the big picture of what God has been doing in this world since its beginning, what God is doing now, and what he has yet to come.
I do not wish to know these things for my own intellectual curiosity or psychological stability, or to feel closer to God. All of these are by-products of knowing God well, and we surely must be grateful for them. But I desire to know the big picture in light of God’s will so that I may be involved in his kingdom program as productively as possible. For example, since I know through the close reading of God’s Word, the Bible, that God longs for justice and mercy to prevail in this world, I want to give a portion of my energy and finances to strengthen those agencies that are concerned with these activities. I want to pray for and encourage those who are suffering and bowed down with care, because I see Jesus in the Gospels ministering compassionately to the hungry, the sick and the weary.
Here I close with two scriptures (NASB) that will encourage you and me to continue seeking to know God more and more all of our days on earth.
“Evil men do not understand justice, but those who seek the LORD understand all things” (Proverbs 28:5).
“The people who know their God will display strength and take action” (Daniel 11:32).
Lately I have been thinking about the over six billion people on this planet. Actually, I think about them a lot, but even more so in recent weeks. I think about the people who walk on the sidewalk near my home and those living on rickety rafts and boat-houses on the rivers of southeast Asia. I think of young and old, male and female, poor and rich, healthy and unhealthy. Mostly I grieve over the billions who don’t know God.
I want them to know God. I want everyone to know God, for their good in both this life and the life to come. But why should they want to know God? Even if, as is the case, the overwhelming majority of this world’s population believes in some kind of a God or exalted being (or beings), why should they desire to know God, or even know about God, more than they do?
This line of thinking leads me to write about the central reasons why I long to know God more fully and more personally than I now do. These are not primarily reasons to know more about God, although this is an inseparable part of my lifetime quest. These are, above all, my reasons for knowing God experientially—personally and intimately.
First, I want to know God because, frankly, my friendship with him gives me the most enjoyable quality of life that I can imagine on this earth. I was born again into the family of God in 1962, and have not once regretted that I was drawn into the body of Christ by the gracious pull of the cross. It is literally impossible for me to conceive of a more personally satisfying relationship with anyone (or ones) other than the all-mighty, all-merciful, and all-holy God of the Hebrew-Christian scriptures.
I have not always had the degree of satisfaction in God that I now have. This has been a growing relationship over many years. I have failed the Lord many times during my journey, but this was never because he abandoned me. I have been the one who did not remain in close fellowship with God as I should have. Yet he has always brought me back to himself, leading me again and again to repentance and forgiveness and full acceptance as his loved child.
Another reason I want to know God more fully is to know what to do with the rest of my life. While I am writing this after the most active and public years of my Christian service are likely behind me, I still have some time remaining on earth, even if it’s only a short while. Even in these, my “retirement” years, I never have considered myself retired. In my view, God’s people don’t retire. We, by God’s grace, live everyday seeking to do God’s blessed will, just as we have before finishing our more formal work life.
Circumstances—health, finances, activities, places, people—may change, but life as a child of God continues. I seek God through prayer, meditation in the Word, interaction with others, acceptance of my gifts and ministry opportunities, and experimentation, just as I did before my major work responsibilities changed in 2005. In that year, for health reasons, I needed to retire early from my position as Professor of Theology at Bethel Seminary in St. Paul, MN. But I am continually seeking to know how to serve others with the remainder of my life and resources, and to stay on a meaningful, useful and Christ-centered course, I want to know God more and more so that I sense the direction he has for me. I have no desire to flounder and fumble along until the end of my life. I remind myself often of the words of the apostle Paul: “Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:58).
My final reason is a spinoff from the second, which is a spinoff from the first. I want to know God because I want to know, more and more, how he thinks, feels, and acts in this world, so that I may think, feel, and act like him. The longer I live the more saddened, as well as encouraged, I become over the condition of the peoples of the earth. I grieve and I rejoice; I scratch my head in bewilderment and I have glimpses of light and hope. I desire to know God so that I may—as much as is possible in this life—see the big picture of what God has been doing in this world since its beginning, what God is doing now, and what he has yet to come.
I do not wish to know these things for my own intellectual curiosity or psychological stability, or to feel closer to God. All of these are by-products of knowing God well, and we surely must be grateful for them. But I desire to know the big picture in light of God’s will so that I may be involved in his kingdom program as productively as possible. For example, since I know through the close reading of God’s Word, the Bible, that God longs for justice and mercy to prevail in this world, I want to give a portion of my energy and finances to strengthen those agencies that are concerned with these activities. I want to pray for and encourage those who are suffering and bowed down with care, because I see Jesus in the Gospels ministering compassionately to the hungry, the sick and the weary.
Here I close with two scriptures (NASB) that will encourage you and me to continue seeking to know God more and more all of our days on earth.
“Evil men do not understand justice, but those who seek the LORD understand all things” (Proverbs 28:5).
“The people who know their God will display strength and take action” (Daniel 11:32).
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Ramblings from my Readings
Bob Rakestraw
Here are my thoughts on three of the books I completed reading from January through June, 2010. (Note: Please pray for my health. My heart transplant rejection leaves me with little strength for daily life and service. Thank you for caring.)
Walter Wangerin, Jr., Letters from the Land of Cancer. Grand Rapids, MI : Zondervan, 2010, 199pp., hardcover.
On December 26, 2005, the author felt a lump in his neck. It was diagnosed as lung cancer. Out of that crisis Wangerin began writing a series of letters to his family and friends about his unfolding experiences and his physical, psychological/spiritual responses to what was going on in his body, and to the medical treatments he was receiving. Here are those letters—22 of them—written in 2006 and 2007. Because of his fascinating writing style, but even more because of his frankness and specificity about his responses to his terminal illness, this will rightly be considered a classic in the autobiographical literature of suffering. It is valuable reading for everyone who suffers from a terminal illness and for those who live, pray for and seek to help such ones. Despite his acknowledged grumpiness and hurtfulness to others, Wangerin’s trust in Christ underlies the account, and leaves the reader with hope. (Note: a link to Walter Wangerin’s blog may be found on my blog’s introductory page.)
Lucien Stryk, Editor, The Gift of Great Poetry. Washington, D.C.: Regnery Gateway, 1992, 273 pp., hardcover.
It is hard to imagine a more delightful collection of poems in the English language, from the sixteenth to the early twentieth centuries. Stryk, a distinguished poet with over twenty books of poetry published since the 1950’s, has selected and introduced 130 poems by 130 poets, arranged in chronological order by the authors’ birthdates. You will find many well-known poems here, but also many lesser known. The editor, even when working with the likes of John Milton, John Greenleaf Whittier and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, selected only one poem from each author. Each poet, however illustrious, is represented only once. Stryk says that he did this “so as to represent all periods equally.” He adds: “I felt it to be my task to rescue from obscurity works generally ignored.” While this is not a book of “Christian poetry,” there are numerous pieces that will delight and animate the mind of anyone who loves God, language, and life.
E. Stanley Jones. Christ and Human Suffering. New York: Abingdon–Cokesbury, 1933, 235 pp., hardcover.
The course of my life in recent years, especially my health struggles, has moved me steadily toward the literature of suffering. I am especially drawn to materials written by those who have suffered and/or have spent much time among those who suffer. Jones (1884-1973), one of the best-known missionary evangelists in the world in the early and middle decades of the twentieth century, was a Methodist missionary to India. He first worked with lower-caste Indians, but gradually felt drawn to work with the educated higher castes, as well as student groups. In this valuable study the author presents the Christian way of victory in light of the terrible sufferings in the world. With numerous examples from his long ministry, and with careful consideration of several leading world religions (Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam especially), Jones presents the inherent fallacies within the other religions and the true worth and remarkable triumph over suffering through Jesus Christ. A very wise book from a wise and faithful missionary-writer. The initial in his name stands for Eli (in Hebrew, “my God”).
Here are my thoughts on three of the books I completed reading from January through June, 2010. (Note: Please pray for my health. My heart transplant rejection leaves me with little strength for daily life and service. Thank you for caring.)
Walter Wangerin, Jr., Letters from the Land of Cancer. Grand Rapids, MI : Zondervan, 2010, 199pp., hardcover.
On December 26, 2005, the author felt a lump in his neck. It was diagnosed as lung cancer. Out of that crisis Wangerin began writing a series of letters to his family and friends about his unfolding experiences and his physical, psychological/spiritual responses to what was going on in his body, and to the medical treatments he was receiving. Here are those letters—22 of them—written in 2006 and 2007. Because of his fascinating writing style, but even more because of his frankness and specificity about his responses to his terminal illness, this will rightly be considered a classic in the autobiographical literature of suffering. It is valuable reading for everyone who suffers from a terminal illness and for those who live, pray for and seek to help such ones. Despite his acknowledged grumpiness and hurtfulness to others, Wangerin’s trust in Christ underlies the account, and leaves the reader with hope. (Note: a link to Walter Wangerin’s blog may be found on my blog’s introductory page.)
Lucien Stryk, Editor, The Gift of Great Poetry. Washington, D.C.: Regnery Gateway, 1992, 273 pp., hardcover.
It is hard to imagine a more delightful collection of poems in the English language, from the sixteenth to the early twentieth centuries. Stryk, a distinguished poet with over twenty books of poetry published since the 1950’s, has selected and introduced 130 poems by 130 poets, arranged in chronological order by the authors’ birthdates. You will find many well-known poems here, but also many lesser known. The editor, even when working with the likes of John Milton, John Greenleaf Whittier and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, selected only one poem from each author. Each poet, however illustrious, is represented only once. Stryk says that he did this “so as to represent all periods equally.” He adds: “I felt it to be my task to rescue from obscurity works generally ignored.” While this is not a book of “Christian poetry,” there are numerous pieces that will delight and animate the mind of anyone who loves God, language, and life.
E. Stanley Jones. Christ and Human Suffering. New York: Abingdon–Cokesbury, 1933, 235 pp., hardcover.
The course of my life in recent years, especially my health struggles, has moved me steadily toward the literature of suffering. I am especially drawn to materials written by those who have suffered and/or have spent much time among those who suffer. Jones (1884-1973), one of the best-known missionary evangelists in the world in the early and middle decades of the twentieth century, was a Methodist missionary to India. He first worked with lower-caste Indians, but gradually felt drawn to work with the educated higher castes, as well as student groups. In this valuable study the author presents the Christian way of victory in light of the terrible sufferings in the world. With numerous examples from his long ministry, and with careful consideration of several leading world religions (Hinduism, Buddhism, and Islam especially), Jones presents the inherent fallacies within the other religions and the true worth and remarkable triumph over suffering through Jesus Christ. A very wise book from a wise and faithful missionary-writer. The initial in his name stands for Eli (in Hebrew, “my God”).
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Earthly Life
Bob Rakestraw
Years ago a Canadian singer, Anne Murray, sang these words in one of her numbers: “Sure could use a little good news today.” Well, I want to give out some good news today: attitude-wise, I am doing much better than I have in many months, perhaps years. I am reluctant to call this a strictly psychological change or a strictly spiritual change. I don’t think the two can be neatly separated, because mind-body-soul-spirit-emotions are all intertwined and overlapping. We are instructed in the scriptures to “love God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength,” meaning with all of our being, everything in us and everything we have. We are unified selves.
It is evident, however, that one (or more) of these aspects (functions) of our single self may predominate in certain situations more than in others. A person trying to push a car out of a ditch uses brute strength, spurred on by a strong will, to get the job done. But, even then, the total self is engaged. It cannot be otherwise.
In my situation, as some of you know, I have struggled in an unusual way. Because my health has been poor since my heart transplant of 2003 (and for years before that) I have had a strong desire to leave this earthly life and be taken into God’s heavenly presence. Since March, 2007, after two doctors said I likely had no more than six months to live, this longing has intensified. It became so strong near the end of 2008 that I suffered a lot from depression and anxiety. I believe the cause, or a big part of the cause, was that, although my health continued to decline, God was not taking me home. My longing for heaven—normally a healthy thing for the children of God—had become unhealthy. I did not want to go on living. I asked God numerous times to end my life.
After a crisis experience on January 1, 2009, I called for the elders of the church to come and pray for me, according to James 5. Then I went to a doctor who provided me with some helpful medications. During 2009 I improved gradually in my overall attitude toward life and death, but it has not been until the last month or so that I’ve come to realize that a major change has come over me. I can’t say just when this happened or point to anything different in my prayer life or daily routine. I just know that God has done a very good work in me, for which I am thankful.
Before this major turn in my life I had no desire to live, whereas since the God-wrought change, I am now willing to live to be 90, if God so wills. I hope I don’t, and I still long to go home sooner rather than later, but this new acceptance of life has improved my attitude and sense of daily well-being. Before this change, I wasn’t conscious of having a bad attitude toward God. After all, I wanted to go be with him forever. But I had a negative attitude toward the earthly life God had assigned for me. Part of this was, no doubt, due to depression, and part was due to feelings of uselessness. I was wondering whether I was doing any good here on earth. I had to admit that if God still had me here, and if my attitude is one of joyful (yes!) acceptance of God’s will, then I am being useful for his eternal purposes. It was not enough to resign myself to living, but I needed to gladly, positively accept my state in life (James 1:2-4).
My physical health continues to decline noticeably, but my daily consciousness of God’s good pleasure and will have increased noticeably. I desire to spend the rest of my days simply living for God’s glory. I serve him as best I know how each day, but I can’t delve much into how I may be actually useful to others. More and more I seek to live moment-by-moment according to the Great Commandment: “Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, soul, mind and strength, and your neighbor as yourself.”
May God encourage and lead you continually according to your own life-experience in this earthly existence. I trust that my testimony will be helpful to many of you, my readers.
Years ago a Canadian singer, Anne Murray, sang these words in one of her numbers: “Sure could use a little good news today.” Well, I want to give out some good news today: attitude-wise, I am doing much better than I have in many months, perhaps years. I am reluctant to call this a strictly psychological change or a strictly spiritual change. I don’t think the two can be neatly separated, because mind-body-soul-spirit-emotions are all intertwined and overlapping. We are instructed in the scriptures to “love God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength,” meaning with all of our being, everything in us and everything we have. We are unified selves.
It is evident, however, that one (or more) of these aspects (functions) of our single self may predominate in certain situations more than in others. A person trying to push a car out of a ditch uses brute strength, spurred on by a strong will, to get the job done. But, even then, the total self is engaged. It cannot be otherwise.
In my situation, as some of you know, I have struggled in an unusual way. Because my health has been poor since my heart transplant of 2003 (and for years before that) I have had a strong desire to leave this earthly life and be taken into God’s heavenly presence. Since March, 2007, after two doctors said I likely had no more than six months to live, this longing has intensified. It became so strong near the end of 2008 that I suffered a lot from depression and anxiety. I believe the cause, or a big part of the cause, was that, although my health continued to decline, God was not taking me home. My longing for heaven—normally a healthy thing for the children of God—had become unhealthy. I did not want to go on living. I asked God numerous times to end my life.
After a crisis experience on January 1, 2009, I called for the elders of the church to come and pray for me, according to James 5. Then I went to a doctor who provided me with some helpful medications. During 2009 I improved gradually in my overall attitude toward life and death, but it has not been until the last month or so that I’ve come to realize that a major change has come over me. I can’t say just when this happened or point to anything different in my prayer life or daily routine. I just know that God has done a very good work in me, for which I am thankful.
Before this major turn in my life I had no desire to live, whereas since the God-wrought change, I am now willing to live to be 90, if God so wills. I hope I don’t, and I still long to go home sooner rather than later, but this new acceptance of life has improved my attitude and sense of daily well-being. Before this change, I wasn’t conscious of having a bad attitude toward God. After all, I wanted to go be with him forever. But I had a negative attitude toward the earthly life God had assigned for me. Part of this was, no doubt, due to depression, and part was due to feelings of uselessness. I was wondering whether I was doing any good here on earth. I had to admit that if God still had me here, and if my attitude is one of joyful (yes!) acceptance of God’s will, then I am being useful for his eternal purposes. It was not enough to resign myself to living, but I needed to gladly, positively accept my state in life (James 1:2-4).
My physical health continues to decline noticeably, but my daily consciousness of God’s good pleasure and will have increased noticeably. I desire to spend the rest of my days simply living for God’s glory. I serve him as best I know how each day, but I can’t delve much into how I may be actually useful to others. More and more I seek to live moment-by-moment according to the Great Commandment: “Love the Lord your God with all of your heart, soul, mind and strength, and your neighbor as yourself.”
May God encourage and lead you continually according to your own life-experience in this earthly existence. I trust that my testimony will be helpful to many of you, my readers.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Protection, but not for the Neighbors?
Bob Rakestraw
Two families of five live side by side. The families are good friends and are active in the same church. A tornado strikes their town and, among other devastation, destroys the one family’s house and kills two of the family members. The house next door suffers a small amount of damage but no one is seriously hurt. An unusual scenario, for sure, but not at all impossible.
The survivors of the families live together in the intact house for a while, until the funerals are over and the uprooted family moves. The members of the relatively untouched home feel uncomfortable about thanking God for his protection, especially in the presence of the other family. Why was the other family not protected? How are they to think of God’s protection for some but not for others?
This issue leads to such doubt and confusion in the “safe” family that they stop thanking God for their protection from the tornado. They continue, however, praying for encouragement and provision for their former neighbors and their other neighbors who were also affected.
Should they avoid thanking God about the tornado crisis? If so, what do they do about the exhortation to be “always giving thanks to God the Father for everything”? If not, how do they word their prayers of thanksgiving in light of their neighbors’ tragedies?
The same kind of tension would arise if the safe family, arriving home just after the tornado and seeing their house intact, said to one another, “God is good!” Was he not good to the neighbors who lost lives and property? Would he not have been good if the safe house were totally destroyed?
This issue is one aspect of a much larger question: why does God allow harmful things to come to people? Why is there evil and suffering in the world if God,, who governs this world, is all-mighty, all-wise, and all-good? It is not my intention here to explore this ages-old question, but to focus specifically on how we word our prayers and remarks in such instances as those described above.
I believe it is helpful for us to think about the words we are using. The psalmists used words, the apostle Paul used words, and Jesus used words. Their words are written down in the scriptures, encouraging us to concentrate on just what it is for which we are praying, and, specifically for which we are giving thanks.
It does not seem to be honoring to God if we choose to withhold prayers of thanksgiving in certain situations. As indicated above, after the apostle Paul speaks of being filled with the Spirit, he adds that one aspect of the Spirit’s fullness is “always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20). In I Thessalonians Paul writes: “Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (5:16-18). And in his letter to the Philippian church, Paul exhorts God’s people to “not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God” (4:6).
It helps me to distinguish between my prayers in/for my own personal situation, and praying for others in difficulty. In some trials I have personally thanked God both in and for the situation, even praising God for the current terminal rejection of my transplanted heart. (I admit, however, concerning my heart failure and transplant vasculopathy, that I find it much easier to thank God in my ongoing illness than for it.) I have also thanked God for (not just in) equipment failure, interruptions, and the difficulty of preparing a certain sermon (or blog). James 1:2-4 and Romans 5:3-5, which speak of rejoicing in sufferings, are becoming more real and more comforting to me the longer I live. I can say (in my better moments) “you are good, Lord; you are wise; I rest in you, Lord,” when difficulties come upon me. I know that—if I respond with humility and trust—God is conforming me to the image of his Son, and leading me to deeper joy and satisfaction than I can ever produce on my own.
How do I pray, however, for my neighbors, either out loud or in my mind? I do not feel comfortable thanking God (audibly or privately) for my neighbors’ disaster. We are to “weep with those who weep.” I can, though, praise God in the situation because he is always reaching out to hurting people, he is wise and compassionate, and he is able to work all things for good in the lives of those who love him. I have experienced this God! But I do not want to “push” my prayers or thanksgivings on to hurting people. I can pray for and with them, but they alone must praise God directly and offer their requests specifically as they recover from the shock of the situation.
It is crucial to remind ourselves that God remains God no matter what circumstances he allows in our lives, or in our neighbors’ lives. We don’t just thank God when our home is spared or our car just missed being involved in a terrible crash. If the thought “God is good,” comes to us in such situations, we need to be thanking God for being God—for being who he is all the time. He is always gracious and loving, whether or not we can see these attributes in the midst of a crisis. His perfections remain, even as circumstances change. Our God is a good God—always.
One final thought: our God is a mysterious God. No matter how carefully we analyze situations, examine the scriptures, and probe the nature of God, we must always bow in the presence of Mystery. We word our prayers as best we can, but we rest ultimately in the sovereign wisdom and compassionate guidance of God. “His ways are not our ways, and his thoughts are not our thoughts.”
Two families of five live side by side. The families are good friends and are active in the same church. A tornado strikes their town and, among other devastation, destroys the one family’s house and kills two of the family members. The house next door suffers a small amount of damage but no one is seriously hurt. An unusual scenario, for sure, but not at all impossible.
The survivors of the families live together in the intact house for a while, until the funerals are over and the uprooted family moves. The members of the relatively untouched home feel uncomfortable about thanking God for his protection, especially in the presence of the other family. Why was the other family not protected? How are they to think of God’s protection for some but not for others?
This issue leads to such doubt and confusion in the “safe” family that they stop thanking God for their protection from the tornado. They continue, however, praying for encouragement and provision for their former neighbors and their other neighbors who were also affected.
Should they avoid thanking God about the tornado crisis? If so, what do they do about the exhortation to be “always giving thanks to God the Father for everything”? If not, how do they word their prayers of thanksgiving in light of their neighbors’ tragedies?
The same kind of tension would arise if the safe family, arriving home just after the tornado and seeing their house intact, said to one another, “God is good!” Was he not good to the neighbors who lost lives and property? Would he not have been good if the safe house were totally destroyed?
This issue is one aspect of a much larger question: why does God allow harmful things to come to people? Why is there evil and suffering in the world if God,, who governs this world, is all-mighty, all-wise, and all-good? It is not my intention here to explore this ages-old question, but to focus specifically on how we word our prayers and remarks in such instances as those described above.
I believe it is helpful for us to think about the words we are using. The psalmists used words, the apostle Paul used words, and Jesus used words. Their words are written down in the scriptures, encouraging us to concentrate on just what it is for which we are praying, and, specifically for which we are giving thanks.
It does not seem to be honoring to God if we choose to withhold prayers of thanksgiving in certain situations. As indicated above, after the apostle Paul speaks of being filled with the Spirit, he adds that one aspect of the Spirit’s fullness is “always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20). In I Thessalonians Paul writes: “Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (5:16-18). And in his letter to the Philippian church, Paul exhorts God’s people to “not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God” (4:6).
It helps me to distinguish between my prayers in/for my own personal situation, and praying for others in difficulty. In some trials I have personally thanked God both in and for the situation, even praising God for the current terminal rejection of my transplanted heart. (I admit, however, concerning my heart failure and transplant vasculopathy, that I find it much easier to thank God in my ongoing illness than for it.) I have also thanked God for (not just in) equipment failure, interruptions, and the difficulty of preparing a certain sermon (or blog). James 1:2-4 and Romans 5:3-5, which speak of rejoicing in sufferings, are becoming more real and more comforting to me the longer I live. I can say (in my better moments) “you are good, Lord; you are wise; I rest in you, Lord,” when difficulties come upon me. I know that—if I respond with humility and trust—God is conforming me to the image of his Son, and leading me to deeper joy and satisfaction than I can ever produce on my own.
How do I pray, however, for my neighbors, either out loud or in my mind? I do not feel comfortable thanking God (audibly or privately) for my neighbors’ disaster. We are to “weep with those who weep.” I can, though, praise God in the situation because he is always reaching out to hurting people, he is wise and compassionate, and he is able to work all things for good in the lives of those who love him. I have experienced this God! But I do not want to “push” my prayers or thanksgivings on to hurting people. I can pray for and with them, but they alone must praise God directly and offer their requests specifically as they recover from the shock of the situation.
It is crucial to remind ourselves that God remains God no matter what circumstances he allows in our lives, or in our neighbors’ lives. We don’t just thank God when our home is spared or our car just missed being involved in a terrible crash. If the thought “God is good,” comes to us in such situations, we need to be thanking God for being God—for being who he is all the time. He is always gracious and loving, whether or not we can see these attributes in the midst of a crisis. His perfections remain, even as circumstances change. Our God is a good God—always.
One final thought: our God is a mysterious God. No matter how carefully we analyze situations, examine the scriptures, and probe the nature of God, we must always bow in the presence of Mystery. We word our prayers as best we can, but we rest ultimately in the sovereign wisdom and compassionate guidance of God. “His ways are not our ways, and his thoughts are not our thoughts.”
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Health Update
Bob Rakestraw
“His yoke is easy, his burden is light; I’ve found it so, I’ve found it so.”
I learned this catchy tune and these words from Matthew 11:30 in my early Christian life, and they have boosted me all through the years. I sing this chorus not when my life is easy, but when things are hard.
I have been singing and humming these words often lately. I felt that I should send a health update to you my faithful readers, since it has been a while.
Some of you knew I was having difficulties with my new transplant cardiologist. Well, now I have a new, new one. Judy and I met with her on Monday, May 17, and she seems to be just the medicine I need. She is compassionate and capable, and does not intend to push me in ways that have been ineffective in the past. She acknowledged there is nothing she can do except look into a couple of long shots, and monitor my drug levels every six months or so. She is head of the heart transplant program at the University of Minnesota Medical Center, and I am fortunate to have her. For the first time in over a year, I feel validated and understood by my cardiologist.
There is a down side, however, to my appointment. For the first time since my transplant in 2003, I learned that I have heart failure in addition to the transplant vasculopathy. I have not had heart failure since before the transplant. In fact, that was the reason for needing a new heart. Well, here I am again.
Even though I didn’t know what to call it, I knew I was changing inside. The breathing has become harder and the inner downward “pull” has intensified. I have other symptoms as well, such as increased dizziness, nausea and light-headedness. I sometimes have a “fog” inside my head. Talking is hard. Listening is hard. I am much like I was before the transplant, but worse. My friends understand these things, and, by doing so, consistently affirm me.
There is something more. I feel as though I am moving on. The old order of things is passing away, and the new is drawing near. I don’t know, of course, whether I will be called home by the Lord soon. I may still be here ten or twenty years from now. But my inner person senses that I am in a kind of twilight zone—a shadowland or “via media”—with one foot on the other side. The things of earth are growing “strangely dim.”
I desire to live every minute of my remaining time on earth for the honor of my King, for the good of those I know, and for the good of those I don’t know, but have influenced or will influence in some way in the days to come. I feel as though I could write a twenty-volume set of theology, ethics, biblical exposition, and life-lessons learned over the years. The spirit is very willing, but the body is weak. I affirm wholeheartedly, however, that “His yoke is easy, his burden is light; I’ve found it so, I’ve found it so.”
“His yoke is easy, his burden is light; I’ve found it so, I’ve found it so.”
I learned this catchy tune and these words from Matthew 11:30 in my early Christian life, and they have boosted me all through the years. I sing this chorus not when my life is easy, but when things are hard.
I have been singing and humming these words often lately. I felt that I should send a health update to you my faithful readers, since it has been a while.
Some of you knew I was having difficulties with my new transplant cardiologist. Well, now I have a new, new one. Judy and I met with her on Monday, May 17, and she seems to be just the medicine I need. She is compassionate and capable, and does not intend to push me in ways that have been ineffective in the past. She acknowledged there is nothing she can do except look into a couple of long shots, and monitor my drug levels every six months or so. She is head of the heart transplant program at the University of Minnesota Medical Center, and I am fortunate to have her. For the first time in over a year, I feel validated and understood by my cardiologist.
There is a down side, however, to my appointment. For the first time since my transplant in 2003, I learned that I have heart failure in addition to the transplant vasculopathy. I have not had heart failure since before the transplant. In fact, that was the reason for needing a new heart. Well, here I am again.
Even though I didn’t know what to call it, I knew I was changing inside. The breathing has become harder and the inner downward “pull” has intensified. I have other symptoms as well, such as increased dizziness, nausea and light-headedness. I sometimes have a “fog” inside my head. Talking is hard. Listening is hard. I am much like I was before the transplant, but worse. My friends understand these things, and, by doing so, consistently affirm me.
There is something more. I feel as though I am moving on. The old order of things is passing away, and the new is drawing near. I don’t know, of course, whether I will be called home by the Lord soon. I may still be here ten or twenty years from now. But my inner person senses that I am in a kind of twilight zone—a shadowland or “via media”—with one foot on the other side. The things of earth are growing “strangely dim.”
I desire to live every minute of my remaining time on earth for the honor of my King, for the good of those I know, and for the good of those I don’t know, but have influenced or will influence in some way in the days to come. I feel as though I could write a twenty-volume set of theology, ethics, biblical exposition, and life-lessons learned over the years. The spirit is very willing, but the body is weak. I affirm wholeheartedly, however, that “His yoke is easy, his burden is light; I’ve found it so, I’ve found it so.”
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