Running Home

I'd like to share a recent newspaper column that I wrote which seems to have touched the hearts of several people. The tone may be a little more formal than usual and the metaphor familiar and simple, but it was written for an audience of both believers and nonbelievers. So this is what's on my heart this month, and it is the column that has meant the most to me personally. I hope it touches you, too.

Recently I lost a dear friend and high school classmate to cancer.

Since Jim was a world-class runner, I often think about him while running.

The day after his funeral, I decided to go for a run but dreaded it because I hadn’t run in more than a week and knew it would be difficult.

I started strong, but with each mile it grew more difficult to understand how Jim or any human could endure an ultra marathon, 50 miles.

At mile 5 I was enjoying all the beauty around me, but by mile 8, I doubted I could finish. By mile 9, I was gasping, my gait slowed to a limp, and my hips hurt so badly I wanted to cry. I just kept thinking, “Go to the next telephone pole. Make it to the next mailbox.”

At dusk, the scenery grew dim, but I saw the lights of my house in the distance. I became completely focused on getting home: seeing my family, resting and being refreshed. Nothing else compared to this end—no chirping birds, no red and gold leaves, no fitness goals. Home meant everything.

At the last mile, I thought of several friends who passed recently. All fought diseases that wore them down with each passing week or month much as the miles were taking their toll on me.

For so long, they relished their journeys and were not ready to head home. I wondered if there came a time when everything around them, while still lovely, began to dim as the lights of “home” became brighter.

Parting from people we love is sad, but the sadder thing is to be in a race with no goal in mind. Merely to run and run and run through life stopping only for one novelty after another is very tiresome.

I know some don’t believe we can have an assurance of a “home” at the end of our lives. I couldn’t see my house at mile 8, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

CS Lewis said: “I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”

Faith in Christ isn’t “pie in the sky.” It challenges you to find meaning in suffering and death and prompts your spirit to admit, “This is hard truth” when truth must be faced, whether or not it’s politically correct or raises even more questions, such as, “Why Jim?”

As I grieve, I remind myself that Jim was not ultimately made for this life, beautiful as his life was with his family. He fought the good fight, finished the race and kept the faith (2 Tim. 4:7).

So now, at the end of each run when I re-live the joy of returning home, I take a second to think about Jim, who is really home, and that brings me an even deeper joy.



Please visit Linda Crow at her personal blog: 2nd Cup of Coffee and 2nd Cup Columns.

The Final Stage of Grief

I cannot tell a lie.

I am in awe of Beth Moore. But not because she can do amazing things with her hair in that humid Texas city she calls home. No, no. Although impressive, that's not what I am referring to. I'm merely talking about her ability to write something as if she's been in the innermost parts of my brain.

No wonder my head always itches.

In her book The Beloved Disciple she writes,

As a child bearing the name of Christ, if a part of you has died, in time it was meant to produce many seeds. Has it? Have we lived long enough and cooperated thoroughly enough to see tender shoots come forth from the barren ground? We hear so much talk about the phases of grief: the shock, the anger, often depression, then finally, acceptance...if we're lucky. We're led to believe that acceptance of death is the final stage of grief, but if we're in Christ, the final stage has not come until we've allowed God to bring forth resurrection life and many seeds from the kernel of wheat that fell to the ground. Yes, we have come to acceptance but not just acceptance of the death. Acceptance of the resurrection life. Don't stop until you experience it. Though it tarry, it shall come!

But we have to let it.

We can not sit idly by and watch the trying circumstances and heartaches of life keep us stranded on the sidelines. We must not act as if we're all washed up and that God cannot use us again after such grievous sin once entangled us. We should not allow the enemy of our souls steal from us an abundant life that is very readily ours.

We've all experienced death in some form or fashion. Tell me.

Has the death that took part of your heart away produced any fruit?

I'll go first.

After experiencing the most devastating blow that a wife can imagine, by the grace of God I have been able to allow the once dead heart in my chest to begin beating again. And it's passionate about helping others realize that they, too, can be better than new.

Your turn.

Visit Cindy daily at her personal site, CindyBeall.com

Not the Why... But the Who

Katy, my older cat, loves to sleep next to me. I lie on my side and hold the blanket up and she curls up next to my tummy as I let the blankets gently cover her. Often, I can't hear her purr, but as I rub her belly I can feel the vibrations, the contentment. It's a soothing ritual the two of us have developed.


Often times I have difficulty finding that kind of contentment. I think it is because I am driven to know the why of things. I like to know why it works and why you don't do it this other way. I like to know why things need to be this way rather than that way. I don't know that I actually pestered my parents so much with the questions. (I would have gotten immediate consequences if I had not had immediate obedience.) But, to the extent I was able, there was a quest for "Why?"

Even today, "why" still comes into play. Please don't tell me to do something without explaining the reason behind it. In my mind, comprehension is everything.

I don't think I'm that far off from a lot of people. I may do it more than most in day to day interactions, but when the really big things happen, we all find ourselves asking "Why?"

November 2006 I started dating Bill. After the first date, we pretty much saw each other every day. We hit a rough patch the end of March, but I anticipated getting back together. I didn't think it was a forever break. I thought we both needed to get our bearings. After all, we had been moving pretty fast over the last several months -- to the point that we had spoken of marriage. Bill had vowed, "I'd marry you tomorrow if you'd let me."

The middle of April Bill suffered an aortic aneurysm. His gentle heart split open. They managed to do surgery and he lingered a few days, but he never truly came around. I got to talk to him and pray with him in a one-sided kind of way, but we never had the final conversation that I longed for.

When it first happened I went to a grief support group for a time. Eventually, I needed it less and less. Sometimes I go back to reorient myself. The two year anniversary just passed.

Anniversaries can be tricky to navigate.

One time when I went, lots of people in the room had much more recent losses than mine -- November, December, January. And several expressed "why" questions. "Why so quickly?" "Why with all the medical advances?" "Why wasn't I there at the very end? I only left for a moment."

A number of years ago, I coauthored a book called Faith on the Edge with five other InterVarsity Christian Fellowship staff. One of the chapters that Robbie Castleman dealt with tragedy. She shared the following perspective:

God may not have intervened, may not have stepped in to undo what broke our hearts . . . . We may not understand why God intervened for Peter and not for James. Why some and not all? Why then and not now? All that disciples know is a point in history that gives us hope in tragedy, a point of divine intervention that spans all time: God raised Jesus from the dead.

"Why" questions have their merits, but the better question is "Who?"

• Who walked this earth and is intimately acquainted with our grief? (Isaiah 53:3)
• Who wept when His friend died? (John 11:35)
• Who comforts those who walk through the valley of the shadow of death? (Psalm 23)
• Who prepares a table before us in the presence of our enemies? (Psalm 23)
• Who has compassion on the heavy laden? (Matthew 11:28)
• Who rejoices over us with singing? (Zephaniah 3:17)

Knowing the "why" pales in comparison of knowing the WHO in the midst of any tragedy. Jesus has welcomed our loved ones home and stands with arms open wide to comfort us in our grief. He cheers us on when we face circumstances that make us feel as if we cannot go on. He has run the race before us. As we wrestle with all the "why" in life, He invites us to do so in His intimate presence. Just as Katy snuggles in close to me, we can snuggle into Jesus.

What can you do today to focus on who rather than why? How will that change your perspective?

God's Work In Progress,

This year I'm focusing on hope. I'd love for you to visit my personal blog:

His Throne is Still Intact

“…And, yet God, You’re still sovereign, Your throne intact and eternal.”
Lamentations 5:20b


Have you ever had those moments when you just really felt like everything was going wrong, times when life just seems to be spinning out of control? Perhaps it is a health issue with you or a family member. Maybe it’s the loss of a job or just the stress of too many responsibilities. Whether it’s from our own poor choices, decisions made by those around us, or just circumstances beyond our control, we’ve all had times when we just felt like the bottom was falling out from underneath us.

That is exactly where we find the children of Israel in Lamentations chapter five. In this case, they were being disciplined by God, their loving Heavenly Father, for their sins. They had chosen to “buy into the pagan system” of their day (boy, does that sound familiar) and God was grieved and angry. The bottom had fallen out of their lives. They were dealing with famine, war, violence, and complete despair. The writer of Lamentations is drawing the desperate picture for us, and right in the middle of all the discouraging details, he penned these words in verse twenty. “…and yet God, You’re still sovereign, Your throne intact and eternal.” No matter how bad things were, he recognized Who was still in control.

This isn’t always easy, but this is an amazing truth that is often times our only hope. No matter how difficult life may get, God is still sovereign and His throne is still intact and eternal. We can trust Him with our health concerns. We can rest in His sufficiency, knowing that no matter how hard the storm rages, His Anchor holds. Corrie ten Boone said it so eloquently, when she said, “There is no pit too deep, that He is not deeper still”. We are never so far that His arm cannot save us. Our life is never so dark, that He cannot see exactly where we are.

When life seems to be spinning out of control, hang on, my friend, because God, the Creator and Sustainer of this universe, is still in complete control. He is still on His throne, where He will remain for all eternity, and He is working all things (the good, the bad, and the ugly) together for our good and for His glory!


Lord, thank you that you are God and you are in total control. Thank you that your reign is eternal and there is nothing, or no one, that can overthrow you. Thank you that you are, right now, working everything together for our good and we can trust you. Help us to remember when life is hard, whether it’s due to our own sin or circumstances out of our control, that nothing surprises You and nothing is too big for You.

In Him ~
Tammy…

You can read more from Tammy by visiting her personal blog at Steps In Our Journey

Recognizing Our Traveling Companion

One week ago today, I pulled myself away from my 18 year-old son and left him “all alone” to begin his new life at college. Heart-wrenching!

I hardly had time to process my grief because two very beloved cousins whom I had not seen in years spontaneously flew in to visit. Joy! Twenty-four hours later, they zipped off with no assurance or plan for our ever being together again. Sorrow!

Note the events in one week: Sad separation, ecstatic reunion, sad separation. Picture water faucets being twisted one way full-force, then jerked back the other way, then the other way. The water works flowed.

But God is good. He had led me to re-read Luke 24 several times lately, and now I think I know why. Separations and reunions were about to happen all around me, and my loving Lord would prepare me, if I would recognize his voice, to receive his peace.

Luke 24:17 tell us that on the road to Emmaus, the two disciples’ faces were “downcast,” probably revealing confusion, fear of the future, disillusionment. Often the disciples forgot/didn’t understand Jesus’ mission, even though he told them exactly what to expect, and even though the angel at the tomb reminded them, “Remember how he told you ….” Still, I have compassion for these guys. It’s hard to be clear-headed when you’re grieving.

But--there was a reunion at dinnertime: as soon as Jesus broke bread with them, they recognized him with spiritual eyes and in their hearts. Immediately, they went back to their friends with renewed hope, vigor and joy!

This account shows that Jesus cares when our hearts are heavy. If we will recognize him in the midst of our pain, he will renew us, too.

John Piper notes that Jesus’ ascension is called the "Ascent of Joy."

He adds, “Ordinarily when our best beloved departs on a long journey we do not rejoice. We cry. In order for that crying to be turned into rejoicing we have to be deeply assured of two things.”

The first criterion is that we believe the separation is not final. The Lord gave us many promises about being reunited with him, but John 16:22 is very pointed: “You are now very sad. But later I will see you, and you will be so happy that no one will be able to change the way you feel.” He promised us, “There are many rooms in my Father's house. I wouldn't tell you this, unless it was true. I am going there to prepare a place for each of you. After I have done this, I will come back and take you with me. Then we will be together” (John14:2-3).

The second criterion is that “we must be assured that the separation is best for us and best for our beloved.”

And here, of course, is the line that brought all of this together for me: “It has to be more like sending your nine-year-old off to camp or your 18-year-old off to college. And so it was. The ascension of Jesus Christ into heaven at God's right hand was an ‘ascent of joy’ because it meant that the greatest possible blessing would come to Jesus and to his people.”

The Son was returning to his glory with his Father, and we became the beneficiaries of eternal mediation between God and man, provided by the Spotless Lamb. He returned to his rightful place, and we received a blessing we had no right to receive.

This week, my Comforter met me on my own Emmaus walk. Now I’m ready to square my shoulders, turn around and carry on what I was about before, renewed and reminded of his faithfulness.

If you feel as though you’re walking alone today, look up, and recognize your traveling companion. “… For He [God] Himself has said, ‘I will not in any way fail you, nor give you up nor leave you without support. I will not, I will not, I will not in any degree leave you helpless, nor forsake, nor let you down or relax my hold on you! Assuredly not!’” (Hebrews 13:5b, Amplified)



Please visit my personal blog at 2nd cup of coffee.