by Roseanna White | Nov 12, 2015 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
I have two shoeboxes sitting in my living room, waiting for next week when I’ll drop them off at a local church, and they’ll begin their long journey to children in need. Children who, so the websites say, may never have gotten a gift before. Children who have never celebrated Christmas, not in a way we’d recognize.
All the advice I read said to gear those boxes toward specific things. Things like flashlights and batteries. A shirt. Candy (that won’t melt). A toy–but no stuffed animals, as those terrify young children in many of the countries the shoeboxes go to, and are boring to the kids old enough not to be scared. Things like toothbrushes and combs and ponytail holders.
These are the things that will delight these children.
I look around my house, and I see so many things. And I realize anew how blessed we are in this country . . . and how the blessing has turned to the norm. And how the norm is not only taken for granted, but turned into something that can be used against us. Because we get so hung up on things. We spend so much time, effort, and money on them. We think that’s what makes holidays bright, what makes our kids happy, what we have to give to each other to prove our affection.
I look at all the things . . . and I wonder. I wonder at this world we live in.
My kids don’t have to fear wild animals–so they can call them cute and ask for toys that show them with big eyes and baby faces.
My kids don’t know what it means to go hungry–so candy is no rare thing.
My kids have so many toys they can lose one and not even notice.
My kids have so many clothes that one shirt means next to nothing to them.
My kids have never had to brush their teeth or wash their hair at a river.
My kids may have wants, but they have no real needs.
We’re blessed. Yes. Absolutely. And we’re also, in so many ways, blinded to some key truths. I’m not sure any of us really understand what things mean anymore. They’re not often special. They’re easily replaced.
Yet they’re still our language.
I look at the things in my house, and I think about the difference between survival and luxury. And suddenly I can understand a little better the clerics of old who took a vow of poverty.
Because things are so loud. And the voice of God is so soft.
Which one are we listening to throughout our day?
by Roseanna White | Nov 5, 2015 | Thoughtful Thursdays
My husband came home one evening a while back with quite a story to tell. He’d met a friend of ours at a local Christian restaurant–a blatantly Christian restaurant, mind you, with a Christian name and which is decorated with nothing but Christian art. They were sitting there having some iced tea on one end of the restaurant, when from the other end came a scream, and an older gentleman began convulsing, falling from his chair. His daughter was crying, “Daddy, don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!”
David and our friend jumped out of their chairs and rushed over to help.
They were the first ones there. From the complete opposite end of the restaurant, with a couple dozen others between them and this man, and they were the first ones there.
Were they trained in how to help in a medical emergency? Um, no. But they did the best the could, easing him down so he didn’t hit his head, making sure his airway was clear. Our friend called for the owner to call 911. David tried to keep the daughter calm, then went out to meet the EMTs. Our friend stayed with the man. Prayed for the man.
One other person in the restaurant came over to help. One.
One.
No one else asked if he was okay. If they could help. No one got up to pray with our friend. David’s words were, “They just kept buttering their bread.”
How many times have we all heard the story of The Good Samaritan? How many times have we thought, “Well obviously I’d help”?
Yet here was a restaurant full of presumed Christians, and only 3 got off their rears to do something when someone was collapsing on the floor. Part of me thinks I should be angry about this. But mostly, I’m sad.
We’re not like some of the people we’ve seen in those terrible police-shooting videos, where they just stand there filming while someone’s shot or beaten, even cheering them on. But even if we want to help, too often we don’t. Why?
Because the church is so afraid. And the people are rendered paralyzed. Maybe people think they’ll get in trouble if they try to help but don’t know how–if that’s so, let me assure you that there are Good Samaritan laws protecting you. Maybe those people had thought, “Well someone’s already up…” But haven’t they also heard “Where two or three are gathered in My name…?”
No, we’re not comfortable with the idea of helping in a situation where we’re not qualified. But so often in a situation like that, no one is qualified. What then? Does God expect us to just sit back? No. I daresay the Good Samaritan wasn’t a board-certified physician. But the Lord still expects us to do what we can. And to bombard heaven with our prayers. To put down our bread and butter and storm the gates of heaven on behalf of our brethren.
Sooner or later we’ll all probably find ourselves in a situation similar to this one. Not exact, probably, but similar.
A situation where we can either help or not.
Get up or not.
So the question is…what do you do?
by Roseanna White | Oct 22, 2015 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
In my circles, we hear about the refugees flooding Europe from Syria and the Middle East, driven out by ISIS, and we’re horrified. We want to help. We want to learn more.
I was a bit surprised to realize that the opinion of my circle wasn’t the norm (though I guess I shouldn’t have been). Scrolling randomly through Facebook one day showed me that most people’s opinions are that this is just another ISIS tactic to infiltrate the world–that the refugees are terrorists in disguise, not to be trusted, not to be helped. Or that even if many aren’t, it’s not our problem. We have an immigrant problem of our own, I saw one lady say on a friend’s post. We need to deal with our own issues before we go taking on theirs.
That, my friend, is a dangerous, dangerous philosophy. That, if you carry it out in all aspects of your life, is an excuse for turning a blind eye to any problem–because seriously, when will we not have something to deal with already? Does that mean you let every other atrocity go on, unchecked?
Last week, my husband and father were in Bulgaria, and they went to the refugee camp there to interview some of the refugees. Do you know what they found?
They found people who just want respect, who want to be treated as people, not as a disease. They saw people who manage to smile and joke and talk of their hope of going home, even while they admit that they still have family in Syria, and they haven’t heard from them in months, don’t know whether they’re alive or dead.
These people said over and again, “Syria is beautiful. Syria is wonderful. Syria is even better than the United States. Until DASH [the local name for ISIS] we all lived in peace. We all helped one another. Of course I want to go home. As soon as it’s safe, I’ll be there. We’ll rebuild.”
I’m not sure Americans understand that–that these people aren’t fleeing by choice, aren’t trying to find a new life in Europe or America or anywhere else in the world. They’re just trying to survive, to help their children to survive. Their goal isn’t to stay in those countries to which they flee, it’s just to earn a living there until they can go home. That’s the ultimate goal–to go home, to a place they swear is the best place in the world.
Are there terrorists trying to take advantage of this? There are. Bad people will always try to take advantage of the hardships of others. But those people will find ways in no matter what. To those who live in fear of that, I say this:
41 “Then
He will also say to those on the left hand, ‘Depart from Me, you
cursed, into the everlasting fire prepared for the devil and his angels: 42 for I was hungry and you gave Me no food; I was thirsty and you gave Me no drink; 43 I was a stranger and you did not take Me in, naked and you did not clothe Me, sick and in prison and you did not visit Me.’
44 “Then they also will answer Him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to You?’ 45 Then He will answer them, saying, ‘Assuredly, I say to you, inasmuch as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me.’ 46 And these will go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” (Matthew 25)
When I stand before God, I don’t want Him judging me for the thousands of innocents I chose not to help for fear of the few evil men among them. When I stand before God, I don’t want to be on the left hand, begging and pleading and saying, “But Lord, I might have helped an enemy by mistake!”
I think He has an answer to that, don’t you? Love your enemy. Pray for those who persecute you . . . if your enemy is hungry, give him food. If he is thirsty, give him drink.
Already there are stories coming out of terrorists who were trying to do what we fear . . . but who, being met by the love of Christians in the camps, changed their minds. Because never had they seen such love, and they couldn’t deny it.
Christianity has an opportunity here–to show the world what it really means to serve a loving God. A merciful God. A God who loves you so much that He would make the ultimate sacrifice. That’s a love that changes people. That’s a love that changes the world.
Are we willing to Shine that love into the darkness? Or do we turn our faces away and pretend the darkness can’t reach us here?
Over the next few months, I’ll be sharing opportunities as they become available–opportunities to support those ministering to the camps, and hopefully to take some more active roles too.
And if you’d like to see more of what my husband and father did last week, you can listen to their presentation to our church this coming Saturday, October 24, at 11 a.m. We’ll be broadcasting the service here: FGSDB Live Stream
Please, please join us in praying for the thousands of displaced Syrians. Pray for their safety. Pray for their provisions. Pray for their hearts and souls.
If by chance you’re ready to give right now, you can donate through our not-for-profit organization, the Appalachian Relief Mission. Just put a note that it’s for the refugees–we’ll be sending money to our contacts at the camp in Bulgaria (the poorest country in the EU, just FYI). https://www.paypal.me/anarmoutstretched
by Roseanna White | Oct 15, 2015 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
Freedom.
It’s a subject being discussed quite a bit these days in hot-topic conversations . . . though sometimes I don’t think people realize that is at the heart of what they’re talking about.
Freedom.
It’s the heart of the Christian faith, something Americans certainly make a show of valuing . . . but often atheists’ main objection to Christianity is–though they rarely realize it–our freedom.
Freedom.
Something we want so desperately, but understand so poorly.
Last week, a friend of mine had changed her social media profile picture to be a little thing that said “I Am a Christian.” For some bizarre reason, this triggered attacks on her by total strangers on Twitter, who took it upon themselves to insult her in some rather colorful language and accuse her of “liking to be a victim then.”
I was so very impressed with how my friend handled herself. Not at all confrontational, she just asked the person to explain what they meant. The root of their argument? That there had better not be a God, because if there were, He was doing a lousy job of protecting people. Just look at all the violence and crime!
My friend’s response: “So you want a God who controls you completely?”
The confrontational person certainly didn’t take kindly to that. But it sure got me thinking.
That is, in essence, what people are asking for when they say, “Why doesn’t God stop these bad things from happening? Why didn’t He stop that shooter? That bomber? ISIS?”
When those are the questions churning through our mind, we see only one side of the equation, and it looks grossly unfair. God should put a halt to these terrible thing! Right?!
Wrong. So very, very wrong.
Because if God put a halt to those terrible, terrible things–things people choose to do to each other–then He, being perfectly just, would also have to put a halt to everything you do that isn’t perfectly pleasing to Him.
Is that how you would want to live? With God controlling your every word? Your every action? Your every thought? Do you want to live as nothing but a puppet?
I daresay no one, even those of us who strive to be better and live according to God’s will, want that. We, by nature, value freedom. Free will. We, by nature, want to choose whether we love God, whether we serve Him. He doesn’t demand compulsory service–He softly requests our hearts.
But if we grant that He should give us free will, we have to extend it to all humanity–including those who abuse it.
And there will always be people who abuse it. There will always be people who heed the whispers of the enemy rather than those of God, who take perverse delight in hurting, killing, abusing, misusing other people. Could God stop them? Of course He could. But except for a few occasions where His people are praying and His glory needs to be demonstrated, He doesn’t. Because He already let us choose–He granted us that most basic freedom. We don’t really want Him to take that away.
Not from us, anyway. But we still wish He would take it away from them, don’t we?
At least until we realize that God loves them just as much as He loves us. And because He loves them, He wants them to have that freedom to choose Him too. He wants to reach their hearts, not to bind their hands.
But freedom, as much as we treasure it, terrifies us when it’s extended to those whose views are different from ours. Because what if they abuse it? How do we stop them?
Well, as I know I’ve said before, we don’t accomplish it by tying their hands, since God won’t. We don’t do it by taking away guns. We don’t do it by limiting everyone’s freedoms.
We do it by praying a revival into the world. By turning hearts to Him. By reinstating the morality that God, in fact, gave us to try to guide us away from these abuses we find so heinous . . . but which also include Him guiding us away from abuses we find pretty nice. You know, like sex with whomever we want, whenever we want, married or not. Like getting rid of whatever child (oh, I’m sorry, fetus [which, now that you mention it, means “child” in Latin, no differentiation between born or unborn]) we find inconvenient. Like putting anything and everything before Him in our priorities and loyalties.
We call those things freedoms, proving how little we understand the concept. Free choice. Free love. Free time.
Those things aren’t free–they come with a cost. One America and the world are paying every day when we create a generation, a people, who value life so little that they see no reason not to end the lives of those they disagree with. We, as a culture, have taught them to do that, then we wonder why God didn’t stop them?
Freedom.
It’s a crazy thing, isn’t it? Something we want so fiercely . . . understand so little . . . and don’t know what to do with once we’ve got it. Something we go to war to protect . . . and then give away in terror. Something we say is a basic human right . . . even if that requires changing the definition of “human” so it doesn’t have to apply to those to whom we don’t wish to grant it.
Freedom.
It’s one of God’s sweetest gifts to humanity. And one of the things that make people doubt His very existence.
Freedom.
A gift we can’t accept without extending it to others too.
by Roseanna White | Oct 8, 2015 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
We’re surrounded by them. Couples. Siblings. Families that are super close. People we think of individually, sure, but also, always, as part of a unit.
Over the weekend my husband and I went to the airport to pick up friends flying home from a mission trip. As I was saying a prayer for them the next morning, they came to mind as they often do: Mike and Terri. I’ve thought of them this way for nearly 30 years. Mike and Terri. And it got me thinking.
What units have I been a part of in my life? Growing up, I was often grouped in with my sister: Jennifer and Roseanna. Just like my kids: Xoe and Rowyn. My nieces: Isabelle and Paisley. Because these groups tend to travel together. Share space. Live in the same home. Because when you see one, chances are you see the other.
But these units change as children grow up, don’t they? Then they’re often paired with their friends. In high school, my friend and I joked that people seemed to think our name was Jen-and-Annie.
Then it becomes the couples. David and Roseanna. Brian and Jennifer. Mike and Terri. And so on.
It’s a normal thing, in life. We spend time with people. So in the minds of other people, we’re a unit. We arrive together. We share time and space. We have the same stances on things, usually. We work together.
We’re a unit.
It’s a normal thing, in life…but one that shifts. Relationships break. People pass away. Move away. Things come between us. Distance, sometimes physical and sometimes emotional. The unit breaks down.
But there’s one unit that shouldn’t. I wonder though…
Do people ever think of us as part of a unit with Him? Do people know what when we show up, the Spirit does too? Can strangers ever glimpse Jesus walking with us as surely as our spouses do?
That’s what the Church should be, right? The bride to Jesus, the bridegroom. The other half of His unit. But are we? Can we be, when we fight so much among ourselves that one has to wonder what “The Church” even means anymore?
At the end of the day, that’s the only unit that matters…but the one so often neglected. I strive to keep accord between me and my husband, for example–do I strive to keep it even more between me and my Lord? Do I spend more time with Him than my family? My spouse? Am I in unity with my God?
These earthly relationships, the earthly units are important. But not as important as unity with Him. So that’s something I’m going to be thinking more about. How do we fill in this blank in our lives?
Me and ______________________________________
by Roseanna White | Sep 24, 2015 | Thoughtful Thursdays, Uncategorized
What does it mean to be made in the image of God?
This is a thought that’s floated to the surface of my mind several times in the last month or so. I look at all the racial tensions . . . I look at all the unrest in the world . . . I look at all the gender issues . . . I look at all the sexual orientation topics . . . I look at all the religions . . .
And it begs the question: how can a species so very diverse, so very discordant, so very dissimilar be made, as a whole, in the image of God?
And then the answer sneaks its way into my heart. Quietly, stealthily, like mist over the mountain.
When God created humanity, He created us with burgeoning potential. In the DNA of those first people was stored the potential for every color of skin. For every variation of hair. For every size, every weight, every look. Beauty and ugliness. Generosity and stinginess. We have the potential for greatness, and for failure.
Some parts of our lives are choices, governed by free will. This is where sin comes in, and that’s a rainbow of topics for another post.
But other parts we’re born with, and–up until modern history, anyway–that means we’re stuck with it. This is where my attention is fixed just now. The rainbow over which we have very little say.
So often we say, “God doesn’t see the outside, only the in.” There’s truth in that . . . and there’s lie. God does see the outside. He created it, after all. When I look at my children, I see their hair, their eyes, the shapes of their noses. It’s silly to say God doesn’t. It’s silly, even, to say, “Fine, He sees it, it just doesn’t matter.”
It does matter. He chose it for us. He chose to make each of us who we are. But here’s the thing. He sees it as beautiful.
God loves that rich brown skin He mixed with Heaven’s pallet. He loves that bright blond hair that catches the sunlight. He loves the way this group tends toward shorter frames, and the way that one stretches upward and upward. God not only sees the beautiful in each trait, He fashioned us just so. He chose those particular traits for each of us.
When I look at my kids, I see their differences. I see their similarities. And I love it all. I adore Rowyn’s dimples. Xoe’s bright blue eyes. I wonder what color their hair will end up, and I know it’ll be lovely. I delight in how tall my little girl is, how short my son still is. I find it infinitely amusing how one of them will curl up in my lap at every opportunity and the other thinks “hugging” is a one-way activity in which one need only stand there passively. They are different. And they are the same.
We are all different. And we are all the same.
What is the color of God? Black, white, brown, red? Being incorporeal, the answer is, “None of these.” He is, in a way, like pure light.
Us? We’re darkness. Every time I hear one people group claiming that they matter more than their neighbors, their rivals, their former-oppressors, their enemies, their friends, their allies . . . something inside me just weeps. We take our differences and we glory in them. Or we hate them. We say they don’t matter. Or we say they’re the most important thing.
We miss the point.
Our differences are. And they are beautiful.
Our differences are. But they’re not all.
What is the color of God? Is He black, white, brown, or red? He is none of these. But He is more than that.
He is all of these. God is, in a way, like pure light. Containing every color, even those beyond what our eyes can see.
And I just pray I can see through His eyes. Not beyond our races or genders. Including them. Because difference is a part of us. And that’s an amazing thing.
Roseanna M. White is a bestselling, Christy Award winning author who has long claimed that words are the air she breathes. When not writing fiction, she’s homeschooling her two kids, editing, designing book covers, and pretending her house will clean itself. Roseanna is the author of a slew of historical novels that span several continents and thousands of years. Spies and war and mayhem always seem to find their way into her books…to offset her real life, which is blessedly ordinary.