117 Sermon Illustrations on Tragedy

Three boys in one family drown in farm pond. How community gathered around the Gragg family to comfort them. The school was especially important. The pond was not deep enough or cold enough for them to survive. Grief counselor Kathryn Howard said, "In our age, children aren't eligible to die because our expectations have been set up that children can survive anything. ...But because of modern medical miracles, we are conditioned to believe it is outrageous that they died."

How tragedies, such as a young mother watching her son die in a tornado, fit in with God's plan. Does God cause tragedy, or just permit it? If he just permits it, couldn't he also prevent it? In his sovereignty God allows hard things to come into our lives to discipline us. He knows us and what we need (Ps 139). The promise of Rom 8:28 is only valid for believers, as the first part of the chapter makes clear. God's ultimate "good" for us is to be conformed to the likeness of his Son. Happiness in life is not the ultimate goodness.

An analysis of Romans 8 is given.

Cooperating with the Refiner:

1. Pain is from God and is to be expected.

2. Being conformed is a process.

3. Our wills are involved.

4. Keep looking up, and to the future.

[see #29817]

Continental flight #1713 took off from Denver on Nov 15, 1987, with inexperienced pilots who neglected to de-ice the wings. The plane crashed and flipped on its back, trapping many of the victims for hours.

Flight attendant Kelly Engelhart felt a realization settling over her. "It was as if someone whispered in my ear: 'There will be no fire.' It gave me a great, peaceful calm. There was not an earthly chance that even one of us should have escaped that crash. But now I knew we were going to save a lot of people; I knew that guardian angels had brought us a miracle."

Kelly Engelhart also said, "There are a lot of things we can't understand. But in this case, I believe with all my heart that God just reached in and snuffed out that fire. 54 people are alive today because there was no fire. Our being alive is one of God's miracles, pure and simple." Robert Linck, a big game hunter and corporate executive, does not claim to know why God saw fit to save him. "My friends say I'm too ornery to die, but I don't know. Whatever God has in store for me, I just hope it isn't anything worse than a plane crash."

Jean Smoke, a mother of a victim, tries to grasp the whole event in terms of her own faith. "Anne lost her learning, her music, her children. She lost her precious memories. It is not in God's plan for us to understand something this awful, but somewhere, somehow, there is a purpose to all of this. My prayer is that with God's help, Anne will find a way to re-create all the beauty she brought into the world before the accident."

David Daniel, whose wife Tami died as they were crushed together in the wreckage, found the experience strengthened his belief in God. "For a long time I was mad at God. Not so much because Tami died, but because I lived - and was left to try to figure out what to do next. I do believe God has a grand plan, but he leaves it up to us to decide how to do our part. I just want to try to do my part."

One author tells the story of Ed and Nancy Huizinga, a family in Grand Rapids, Michigan, who in December 1995 while at church rehearsing for the annual Christmas Festival of Lights program, had their home burn to the ground. But that wasn't their only tragedy that year. Just three months earlier, Nancy's long-time friend, Barb Post, a widow with two children, died of cancer. Nancy and Ed had taken her two children, Jeff and Katie, into their home as part of their family, something they had promised Barb they would do. So when Ed and Nancy's house burned to the ground just before Christmas, it wasn't just their home that was lost; it was the home of two teenagers who had already lost their mother and father.

As circumstances unfolded, irony went to work. The tragedy that forced the family from their home allowed Jeff and Katie to move back to theirs. Since their home had not yet been sold following their mother's death, they and their host family moved in there the night after the fire.

On the following Saturday, neighbors organized a party to sift through the ashes and search for anything of value that might have survived. One of the first indications they received of God's involvement in their struggle came as a result of that search. Somehow a piece of paper survived. On it were written these words:

“Contentment: Realizing that God has already provided

everything we need for our present happiness.”

To this family this was like hearing God speak from a burning bush. It was the assurance they needed that He was there and He was not silent.

While the world might view this as a senseless tragedy, deserving of resentment, Nancy and Ed have seen God reveal Himself to them and refine them through this fire as He pours out a full measure of grace and peace.

________

Charles Swindoll, HOPE AGAIN, Word Books, October, 1997, page 21

Sermon in Family series. Coping with Tragedy.

Isaiah 10:3

"YOUR DAY OF DISASTER"

I. Most families are not prepared for the unexpected.

II. Disaster of Despair.

A. Long sickness, financial burdens.

B. Christian heroes have also felt like giving up. 2 Cor 1:8

C. We may feel like giving up, but can overcome.

III. Disaster of Defeat.

A. Moral failure is among worst defeats for a family. 2 Tim 4:10

B. To survive, a family needs to learn how to forgive.

C. Forgiveness is hard, but it is the only way to heal.

IV. Disaster of Death.

A. King David and poignant death of his young son. 2 Sam 12:16-23

B. Dealing with your family and death.

C. The great promise of salvation is that death is defeated.

V. How Christians can cope.

A. "Overcoming" is not automatic.

B. Pain is normal is this fallen world. You cannot escape it.

C. Learn to embrace the pain.

D. Pain can become endurable when it is shared.

VI. Pain is not God's last word. Rom 8:8,28

I used to live in Fort Meade, Maryland, which is half an hour from Washington, D.C. It’s a rural area not much different than Coshocton County.

The kids there aren’t much different, either. On the weekends they like to get together. On one particular weekend in the spring of 1979, a bunch of high school students gathered at a friends’ house. All of them drank, and some drank too much. To cap off the evening they decided to go for a ride on a tree-covered road behind the base. 14 of them piled into a pickup truck and took off.

The driver was feeling pretty good, and soon he was going 80-90 MPH. At a hairpin curve he lost control. The pickup left the road and hit an oak tree head on. The first people at the scene were horrified to find bodies hanging from the trees. The impact was so great that initially it could not be determined how many had been in the truck. Out of 14, 10 died that night, and 2 more died within a few weeks. Only one person was able to walk away – the teenage driver. And scattered in the woods, and throughout the truck, were dozens of empty beer cans.

We’ve all heard the statistics- 26,000 alcohol-related deaths on the highways every year. A quarter of a million every decade. 1 out of 2 accidents involve alcohol. Another 25,000 every year die from alcohol-related disease.

“Why Me?” is the most natural human response to personal tragedy. But we might just as well ask: “Why Not Me?”

In the fall of 1991, Gerald Sittser and his family were returning from a weekend trip when a drunk driver struck their minivan head-on. As a result, he lost his mother, his wife of 20 years, and a four-year-old daughter. He and his three other children escaped relatively unharmed. The following excerpt, condensed from his book “A Grace Disguised” (Zondervan), chronicles a portion of his healing:

My wife, Lynda, and I had a conversation once about an accident reported in our local newspaper. A station wagon with six children and their mother had skidded off the freeway and sunk in six feet of water, killing three of the six children. We both commented nervously that the problem was not simply that something bad had happened to innocent people, but that something bad had happened so randomly. We shivered with fear before the disorderliness of tragedy. If there were going to be suffering, we at least wanted reason for it, predictability to it, and preparation to endure it.

That conversation comes back to me with bitter irony. For the last few years my dominant emotion has been a nervous and doleful bewilderment. A pause at a stop sign, a last-minute switch of seats before departure, a slower or faster acceleration after a turn would have spared us all unspeakable suffering.

I found myself questioning the orderliness of life. While nature displays an orderliness that scientists count on every day, order does not always prevail. At times the universe seems to make about as much sense as a little girl who thinks that her fleeting grudge against a brother is the reason he got measles.

THE TERROR OF RANDOMNESS

One of the worst aspects of my experience of loss has been this sense of sheer randomness. The event was completely outside my control — an “accident,” as we say. The threat of anomie was and still is almost unbearable to me. I began to look with cynicism on the absurdity of life. Maybe, I thought, there really is no God and no meaning to life. I was tormented by an inability to discover any explanation that made sense of the tragedy. An answer to the “Why?” question eluded me.

Suffering may be fiercest when it is random, for we are then stripped of even the cold comfort that comes when events, however cruel, occur for a reason. To fall while attempting a dangerous climb without ropes leads to one kind of suffering. We shake our heads at the tragedy but realize that the climber should have taken precautions or attempted a climb within his or her range of ability. But to be killed by a random bolt of lightning or a stray bullet engenders another kind of suffering, in which case we tremble because there is no satisfactory explanation, no sensible pattern. Death just happened. The victim was simply at the wrong place at the wrong time.

For a long time, I wanted to change the events of that fateful day so that I could alter the present reality the accident had thrust upon me. But my brother-in-law Jack challenged me to reconsider whether I really wanted that kind of power. Did I really want to know what was going to happen so that I could protect myself from the random accidents that inevitably occur in every life? And if I knew what accidents were ahead and could change the course of my life, would I want to know what new accidents would befall me? What I really wanted, he said, was to be God.

WHY ME?

I have asked the question “Why me?” often, as many people do after suffering loss. Most of us want control of our lives. And we succeed a great deal of the time, which is due in part to the enviable powers Western civilization has put at our disposal. The possibility of so much control makes us vulnerable to deep disappointment when we lose control.

Loss deprives us of control: Cancer ravages, violence erupts, divorce devastates, unemployment frustrates, and death strikes — often with little warning. Suddenly we are forced to face our limitations squarely. We resent the intrusion, the inconvenience, the derailment. We never plan on loss.

Loss also has little to do with fairness: There is often no reason for the misery of some and the happiness of others. Our universe is hardly a safe place; it is often mean, unpredictable, and unjust, resulting in our asking the question over and over, “Why me?”

Once I heard someone ask the opposite question: “Why not me?” It was not a fatalistic question. He asked it after his wife died of cancer, acknowledging that suffering is simply a part of life. They had been married for 30 years and had enjoyed many happy moments together. But then the time came to experience another, more painful side of life. He could no more explain why his life had turned bad than he could explain why his life had been so good up to that point. “Why not me?” is as good a question as any.

This man has perspective. Wars and plagues have claimed the lives of millions; poverty and deprivation abound among more millions. And millions of others endure abuse of one kind or another. “Why me?” seems to be the wrong question to ask. “Why not me?” is closer to the mark, once we consider how most people live.

My tragedy introduced me to a side of life that most people around the world know all too well. Even now I hardly qualify as a tragic figure, considering the good life I have been privileged to live for so many years and live even today. The accident was really a brief, albeit dramatic, interruption in an otherwise happy, secure, and prosperous life. To many people I am even heroic, which seems ironic to me, since I have only done what people around the world have done for centuries — making the most of a difficult situation. So why not me? Why should I expect to live an entire lifetime free of disappointment and suffering? That expectation strikes me as both unrealistic and arrogant.

GRACE UNDERSTOOD

Certainly, on a superficial level, living in a perfectly fair world appeals to me. But deeper reflection makes me wonder: In a fair world I might never experience tragedy; but neither would I experience grace. Grace is grace only when it is undeserved.

I prefer to live in a universe in which I get what I do not deserve — positive or negative. This means I will suffer loss, but I will also receive mercy. I dread undeserved pain, but it is worth it if I can also experience undeserved grace.

If I have learned anything over the past three years, it is that I desperately need and desire the grace of God — which has come to me in unexpected ways. Friends have remained loyal and supportive, in spite of my struggles. Quietness, contentment, and simplicity have gradually found a place in the center of my soul, though I have never been busier. I go to bed at night grateful for the events of the day, which I try to review and reflect on until I fall asleep, and I wake up in the morning eager to begin a new day. My life is rich and productive, like Iowa farmland in late summer.

And my children have become a constant source of joy to me, however demanding my role as a single parent. Almost every day I take a few moments to listen to them practice their instruments, play a game with them, shoot a few baskets, talk about the day, and read aloud to them. When they go to bed, I always follow them down to their rooms and tuck them in. And just before I crawl into bed, I sneak into their bedrooms and pray God’s blessing upon them, a practice I learned from Lynda. These are precious moments, made more so by the tragedy we have experienced together.

Despite my having been a Christian for many years before the accident, God has become a living reality to me as never before. My confidence in God is quieter but stronger. I feel little pressure to impress God or prove myself to him; yet I want to serve him with all my heart and strength. My life is bountiful, even as I continue to feel the loss. Grace is transforming me, and it is wonderful. I have slowly learned where God belongs and have allowed him to assume that place — at the center of life rather than at the periphery.

So, God, spare us a life of fairness! A world with grace gives us more than we deserve. It gives us life, even in our suffering.

************************

Gerald L. Sittser is professor of religion at Whitworth College and the author of “The Adventure” (InterVarsity).

Copyright (c) 1996 Christianity Today, Inc./CHRISTIANITY TODAY Magazine

ctmar96mrj6T30236222

#3549

*

Instead of big-league career, he found big-league ministry.

________________

It was the day after Thanksgiving, and Tim Cash and 3-year-old daughter Rachel were hanging Christmas lights on their Auburn, Georgia, home. Tim's wife, Barb, suggested they do something different, so Tim and Rachel erected a cross using the post and guardrail on the front porch.

It was no deep evangelical effort, just a symbol of the family's commitment to Jesus Christ. Two days later, as Cash stood in the driveway washing his van, a man using a crutch limped down the street. Cash said hello, then said, "You look like you're in pain." The man walked his way and they began to talk. He spoke of his medication, but Cash sensed a deeper hurt and risked asking about it. "You look like you're disturbed -- what's going on?" Cash said.

As Cash pushed son Benji in a stroller, the three went for a walk and the man began to open up. He shared about his wife's drinking problems, a recent auto accident she had while drunk, her attempt at suicide, his own abuse as a child from a broken home and suicidal tendencies, and the rocky marriage. Cash found himself in a position to minister to this total stranger.

"I was blown away by his transparency," Cash said. Seizing the moment in the power of the Holy Spirit, Cash led the man back to his house and they sat in lawn chairs in the driveway. Within a few minutes, the man accepted Christ as his Savior.

After Cash had given the man a Bible and some discipleship material, he said, "Just one question before you go, 'Why did you stop at our house today, why were you so comfortable stopping and opening up?'" The man answered, "As I was on my way home the other night, I passed by your house and saw the cross, and so I thought maybe I could talk to you."

Cash has devoted his life to being light in a dark world. He is not a pastor, per se, nor has his audience primarily been the average man on the street. Cash works with Unlimited Potential, whose motto is "Serving Christ through Baseball." Cash does evangelistic baseball clinics throughout the United States and overseas, utilizing major league baseball players to teach the game and, foremost, to share Christ.

Cash, a former pro baseball player and a member of Hebron Baptist Church, Dacula, Georgia, ministers to almost 100 major league players, many in a Bible study setting in the home of center fielder Brett Butler near Atlanta.

Cash's encounter with the neighbor is one example of his broadening scope of ministry. Of it, he said, "I was washing a van -- Jesus was washing a heart. I had been hanging lights -- Jesus was revealing the light." To everyone he asks, "When people pass your way, do they see the cross?"

Cash didn't see the cross until he was 21 years old. "Baseball was my God," he said. Growing up in Newnan, Georgia, Cash would have the baseball gloves and balls laid out on the front porch when his father arrived home from doing drywall work.

"I grew up with a young dad, and it was great, because sure enough, before he would go inside and kiss mom, he'd pick up the glove," Cash said.

Baseball got him through college and to the pros. But he drank regularly, smoked marijuana and battled arm problems. Frustration mounted, especially after his first elbow operation in 1985.

"I was hurting, reaching out," he said. His father had been "radically saved" the year before. The man who helped him learn about baseball also helped him accept the cross of Christ as Cash was saved that year. He would have a total of three elbow and shoulder operations and would not make it to the major leagues, but Cash's focus had changed to serving Christ. Now baseball and the gospel work together.

His role with Unlimited Potential comes first, but his ministry is spreading as he is asked to speak in a wide variety of situations and is regularly asked to fill the pulpit. Unlimited Potential puts Cash in contact with the men who are in the place he once wanted to be.

"I'm really am a pastor to the majority of the guys, in the sense that we're doing Bible study, having ministry to the guys and through the guys," Cash said. "We're trying to fulfill the angle of discipleship and equipping, but also of evangelism by taking the guys out into situations where they can share their faith."

Cash's wife ministers to the players' wives in Bible study. The players meet with the Cashes as couples, individuals and in a group regularly for study and fellowship. Although most are regularly church attenders, the home fellowship with the Cashes becomes church, in a sense, because of their unique circumstances.

"They're hounded at the park by autograph seekers, and even at church they're asked, or somebody's always wanting to talk to them," Cash said. "So for them to get freed up and caught up in collective worship, they almost have to do it somewhere else."

Cash's position allows him to know intimately many men who have achieved their dreams for athletic and financial success, and he knows that is not what gives them peace. His message:

"Satan comes to steal, comes to kill and he comes to destroy.

Satan is not some cat dressed up in a red suit with horns and

a pitchfork. The Bible says he disguises himself as an angel

of light. I want people to see the real light, the cross of

Jesus Christ. It is the only thing that brings peace."

======================

Version used in sermon by David Holwick on 12/21/2014:

It was the day after Thanksgiving, and Tim Cash and 3-year-old daughter Rachel were hanging Christmas lights on their home in Auburn, Georgia. Tim’s wife, Barb, suggested they do something different, so Tim and his daughter erected a cross using the post and guardrail on the front porch. It was no deep evangelical statement, just a symbol of the family’s commitment to Jesus Christ.

Two days later, as Cash stood in the driveway washing his van, a man using a crutch limped down the street. Cash said hello, then said, “You look like you’re in pain.” The man walked his way and they began to talk. He spoke of his medication, but Cash sensed a deeper hurt and risked asking about it. “You look like you’re disturbed -- what’s going on?” Cash asked.

As Cash pushed his son Benji in a stroller, the three went for a walk and the man began to open up. He shared about his wife’s drinking problems, a recent auto accident she had while drunk, her attempt at suicide, his own abuse as a child from a broken home and suicidal tendencies, and their rocky marriage.

Cash was blown away by how open the man was. Feeling led by the Spirit, he led the man back to his house and they sat in lawn chairs in the driveway. Within a few minutes, the man accepted Jesus as his Savior.

After Cash had given the man a Bible and some discipleship material, he said, “Just one question before you go - Why did you stop at our house today? Why were you so comfortable stopping and opening up?”

The man answered, “As I was on my way home the other night, I passed by your house and saw the cross, and so I thought maybe I could talk to you.”

Tim Cash thought to himself, “I had been hanging lights -- Jesus was revealing the light.” To everyone he asks, “When people pass your way, do they see the cross?”

(WILLOW GROVE, Pennsylvania) Don Saunders and Buddy Stride planned to be gone only a couple minutes. Like most Friday nights, February 20, 1998, was family time at the little stone house where the two Baptist ministers and inseparable best friends lived with their wives and Stride's four children. On that drizzly night, it meant running out for chocolate doughnuts and a videotape or two, then sprawling in front of the TV with the kids.

After making sure Stride's 2-year-old namesake, Buddy 3rd, was snug in his car seat, the men got into his 1988 Daihatsu and headed down Dallas Road toward the local grocery.

Legally, Louis Serianni Jr. shouldn't have been near an ignition key. His license was first revoked in 1982 after the state labeled him a "habitual offender." But Serianni, 39, a mechanic in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, kept driving. He'd forged an insurance card and racked up so many moving violations that his record runs 18 pages, authorities said. He wasn't due to get his license restored until 2019.

He danced around the system, said Montgomery County District Attorney Michael D. Marino. The database issues a new citation with each new violation but doesn't tell an officer how many times a driver has been stopped or cited for driving with a suspended license. "The law says he's given a citation, and he walks away," Marino said. "He cannot be arrested right then and there."

On Feb. 20, Serianni was driving again, this time steering his 1970 gold Oldsmobile Cutlass convertible in and out of traffic on busy four-lane Moreland Road, doing an estimated 60-70 mph in a 35 mph zone with his headlights off - and a blood alcohol level more than twice the legal limit, prosecutors charge. At 7 p.m., witnesses told police, the big Olds crested a hill and slammed broadside into a small white car turning left from Dallas Road.

Lois Stride, feeding dinner to her three girls, wondered what was taking the guys so long. About 8 p.m., she called down to Dixie Saunders in the basement apartment, wondering if she could think of anything that might have delayed them. She stuck her head down the stairs again about 8:30 just as the police arrived.

"The first thing they said was, 'The little boy's OK,'" Stride told a reporter in her living room. As for Don and Buddy, the police just kept saying the situation was "very serious." "By that time," Stride said, "both men were dead."

Donald Saunders and Harold Stride 2nd, born 18 days apart in June 1971, were pronounced dead at Abington Memorial Hospital within an hour of each other. "It's just perfectly appropriate," Stride said. 'It seems like He put them together for a purpose, then took them for another."

The two men grew close as 16-year-old high school juniors in their hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska. Buddy loved languages, especially French. Don loved basketball and anything having to do with the University of Nebraska Cornhuskers. Both loved God and found a bond in their unwavering faith, the "most important foundation" any relationship can be built upon, Stride said.

They separated at graduation, Buddy going to Bible college in California, Don attending Nebraska. They married within a year of each other. Don taught for a year in California then joined his best friend at the seminary. He and Dixie lived two apartments down from Buddy and Lois.

When Buddy decided to head East to pursue a doctorate at Westminster Theological Seminary in Glenside, Pennsylvania, Don said he was going, too. The two families arrived in Pennsylvania last summer, and Buddy set about finding a congregation he might lead. He preached at Bethany Baptist Church in Philadelphia and was immediately embraced.

He made it clear he came with a partner. "The guys' dream was always to preach together. Don always said he could see himself as an associate pastor (to Buddy)," Stride said. "Don had the day-to-day enthusiasm that would keep them going. Buddy was the one who pulled for the long term. Buddy had the goals and the vision and the drive. He lived (life) so intently that it wasn't hard for him to motivate us to go along with him. ... "They usually managed not to be down at the same time. When they were, it was disastrous. But for the most part, when one was down the other was up."

On the day they were killed, they were both up. They'd received word they were to be formally installed as Bethany's pastor and assistant pastor. At the crash scene, Serianni told police he'd had "a couple of beers." His blood alcohol test at Abington Memorial registered .22, the affidavit said. That's the equivalent of downing some 10 drinks in an hour, according to statistics from the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration. Last Tuesday, Serianni pleaded innocent to 21 charges, including drunken driving, driving with a revoked license and two counts of vehicular homicide. He was jailed in lieu of $50,000 bond and faces a preliminary hearing March 17.

No one answered the door at Serianni's home last week, and his attorney, Lawrence S. Krasner, did not return messages. After Tuesday's appearance, however, Krasner offered that Serianni had requested a moment of silence for the deceased and their families. Hearing of Serianni's request, Stride showed the hint of a smile. A widow at 28 with four children - Eshte, 4; Bijou, 3; Buddy, 2; and L'Abri, 1 - she might be forgiven for ridiculing his sentiment.

But she can't even imagine feeling anger. "I don't know all the whys, but I do trust in God," she said. "It seems odd, because they were doing such a good job. But it's just one of those unanswerables - God thinks beyond us.

And if anyone had to die, she's comforted it was Buddy and Don, whose eternal lives she's certain of. "I can't speak to Mr. Serianni's soul," she said. "The guys would say that they were glad he's still here for a second chance."

#4301

*

True story of a heroin overdose victim who was seeking to feel free, and didn't find it until he ended up in a wheelchair.

__________________

Matthew Dougherty was dying when paramedics sped his limp body to the hospital emergency room. His fingernails and feet were blue. Glucose dripped through a tube in his arm. A "coma cocktail" of glucose and Narcan, a narcotic antidote given to unresponsive patients, had been injected a half hour earlier - with no effect. The cause of the coma was a mystery until an anonymous caller told them Matt had snorted heroin the night before. Dougherty's heart, liver, kidneys and lungs, starved for oxygen, were damaged. Fortunately, these could heal themselves. His brain could not.

Today Matt, 24, is in a wheelchair. His eyesight, once 20/20, now requires glasses but he still cannot read properly. He can converse normally and has begun to use a walker - more than four years after the coma that finally ended his drug use. "You can't tell an addict to stop. They have to find out for themselves. I thought I was invincible."

After beginning with other drugs, at age 18 he started heroin. "Once you tried it, it set you free. That's what we thought. It made me feel like I didn't care, almost like a bubble of protection around me... It made me feel, 'Now I have found peace,' but in a very fake way." The packet of heroin that sent Dougherty to the hospital was emblazoned with what could have been a warning: the word Satan, a brand name used by the dealers.

His friend Joseph Loia's death from a heroin overdose has helped put Dougherty's own tragedy in perspective. "I used to think, man, life is rotten. I'm in a wheelchair, this is horrible. Then I went to Joe's funeral and I thought: This could be worse." And without alcohol or drugs, Dougherty is beginning to feel in control of his life.

"I'M PROBABLY THE MOST FREE I HAVE EVER BEEN, IN THIS WHEELCHAIR."

Think about it, SPEEDERS!!

Jack took a long look at his speedometer before slowing down: 73 in a 55 zone... Fourth time in as many months. How could a guy get caught so often? When his car had slowed to 10 miles an hour, Jack pulled over, but only partially. Let the cop worry about the potential traffic hazard. Maybe some other car will tweak his backside with a mirror.

The cop was stepping out of his car, the big pad in hand. Bob? Bob from church? Jack sunk farther into his trench coat. This was worse than the coming ticket. A Christian cop catching a guy from his own church. A guy who happened to be a little anxious to get home after a long day at the office. A guy he was about to play golf with tomorrow. Jumping out of the car, he approached a man he saw every Sunday, a man he'd never seen in uniform.

"Hi, Bob. Fancy meeting you like this."

"Hello, Jack." No smile.

"Guess you caught me red-handed in a rush to see my wife and kids."

'Yeah, I guess." Bob seemed uncertain. Good.

"I've seen some long days at the office lately. I'm afraid I bent the rules a bit-just this once." Jack toed at a pebble on the pavement.

"Diane said something about roast beef and potatoes tonight. Know what I mean?"

"I know what you mean. I also know that you have a reputation in our precinct."

Ouch! This was not going in the right direction. Time to change tactics.

"What'd you clock me at?"

"Seventy-one. Would you sit back in your car, please?"

"Now wait a minute here, Bob. I checked as soon as I saw you. I was barely nudging 65." The lie seemed to come easier with every ticket.

"Please, Jack, in the car."

Flustered, Jack hunched himself through the still-open door.

Slamming it shut, he stared at the dashboard. He was in no rush to open the window. The minutes ticked by. Bob scribbled away on the pad. Why hadn't he asked for a driver's license? Whatever the reason, it would be a month of Sundays before Jack ever sat near this cop again. A tap on the door jerked his head to the left.

There was Bob, a folded paper in hand. Jack rolled down the window a mere two inches, just enough room for Bob to pass him the slip.

"Thanks." Jack could not quite keep the sneer out of his voice. Bob returned to his car without a word.

Jack watched his retreat in the mirror. Jack unfolded the sheet of paper. How much was this one going to cost?

Wait a minute. What was this? Some kind of joke? Certainly not a ticket. Jack began to read: "Dear Jack, Once upon a time I had a daughter. She was six when killed by a car. You guessed it - a speeding driver. A fine and three months in jail, and the man was free. Free to hug his daughters. All three of them. I only had one, and I'm going to have to wait until heaven before I can ever hug her again. A thousand times I've tried to forgive that man. A thousand times I thought I had. Maybe I did, but I need to do it again. Even now... Pray for me. And be careful. My son is all I have left." Bob

Jack twisted around in time to see Bob's car pull away and head down the road. Jack watched until it disappeared. A full 15 minutes later, he, too, pulled away and drove slowly home, praying for forgiveness and hugging a surprised wife and kids when he arrived.

Life is precious. Handle with care.

*

What happened at Wedgwood Baptist church in Fort Worth shocked the whole nation. The tragic loss of life leaves many wondering: What good can possibly come of this?

In the aftermath of the murders, one answer has emerged: As with the Columbine slaughter, this latest massacre is giving Americans a chance to see the difference that faith in Christ can make.

We saw a glimpse of that difference in news accounts of those terrible few minutes inside the church. According to the New York Times, when Ashbrook began shooting, everyone in the church dove under the pews. Everyone, that is, except Heather McDonald. McDonald has Down's Syndrome and didn't understand what was happening.

Fortunately for her, Mary Beth Talley, one of the youth group members, did. Talley shielded McDonald with her own body, literally taking a bullet for her. Even after being shot, Talley continued to comfort McDonald.

After the shootings, reporters descended on Fort Worth, all of them asking the same question: How do Christians respond to tragedy? Are they serious about forgiveness and hope?

National Public Radio's Wade Goodman interviewed survivors and other church members. Instead of cursing Ashbrook, members expressed sorrow that they had not done enough to reach out to a troubled man. Church member Dan Gill told reporters that "[Jesus] died for the man who pulled the trigger, too."

Stephanie Jones, the mother of Susan Jones, a seminarian killed in the shootings, said, "We are not angry, and we have peace that God is in control."

Jones' sentiments were echoed by Kathy Jo Brown, who lost her husband, Shawn. She told the New York Times that "Shawn ran the race victoriously, all the way to God's arms."

Perhaps the most remarkable story involves shooting victim Sydney Browning. Browning taught at an alternative high school for troubled teenagers. As a friend of hers told National Public Radio, shortly after the Columbine shootings, she and Browning had discussed what they would do under similar circumstances. Browning told her that if someone had to be shot, she hoped it would be her, because she knew she was saved -- something she couldn't say about her students.

These responses to such a horrific tragedy highlight, as nothing else can, the difference between the Church and the unbelieving world.

That difference is, of course, faith in Jesus Christ. People like Sydney Browning and Mary Beth Talley weren't afraid because they knew Who was in control. They knew that, as Martin Luther wrote in his great hymn, "A Mighty Fortress," although "the body they may kill, God's truth abideth still."

The early Church had a saying: "The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church." The example set by early Christians in death and suffering was the greatest witness to the "truth which is in Jesus." Now, when our neighbors ask us why we believe, we have our own example of the power of an indestructible life: the martyrs at Columbine and now these young people of Wedgwood Baptist.

And if this example leads people to faith in Christ, then the world will once again see that God can and does bring good out of unspeakable evil.

___________________________

Copyright (c) 1999 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

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[Holwick - I disagree with his view, which is similar to Rabbi Kushner's, but think this is a good discussion-starter on the issue of chance and random tragedy. It was inspired by a storm which dropped a tree on a car and killed a small child.]

SOMETIMES GOD MAKES NO SENSE

If a tree falls in the forest, and there's no one around to hear it, does it make a sound?

Who cares? How about a more meaningful question, like, say, how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?

That one I know the answer to: Sometimes, they all do, leaving the world an unprotected place, a place where trees make terrible sounds when they fall and crush one of God's children. And, while we're at it, how strong is the Lord, anyway, this God who numbers the hairs on our heads and sets the universe spinning? There are days when he seems old to me, as deaf and brittle as a wooden idol carved from a mighty oak. And about as useful.

UNSEEN DANGERS

A Glen Ridge mother puts her 2-year-old son in his seat in the back of the family van. She straps him in because she wants him to be safe from fools and unseen dangers. Maybe she kisses him as she turns to walk to the front door of the car.

And in that moment, that moment and no other, the wind blows and a tree falls, and crushes Jesse Cosantino to death. Thirty seconds either way and he'd be playing tonight, never having fully learned that old, frightening prayer, "I pray the Lord my soul to keep. And should I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take."

We've all had near-misses and close calls in our lives. And every time we cheat death by dumb luck or good timing, we chalk it up to the hand of God or the flutter of angels' wings.

"God still has something left for me to do," the faithful say. But, going down that road leaves the devout committed to some cold, cruel propositions; for instance, "A 2-year-old can apparently outlive his usefulness to God's master plan."

GUARDIAN ANGELS

And when the guardian angels split for the coast and God's hand is stuck in his pocket, we find comfort in the trite and banal. "Well, the child is in a better place," someone will say. Presumably, the child resides now in heaven, where the wind always is gentle and the trees never fall down. But I believe, whatever the delights of Paradise, that the best place for a 2-year-old is in his mother's arms.

It's always easier when tragedy is long ago or far away. I think of those survivors of Hiroshima who packed up and moved to Nagasaki and were bombed all over again just days later. That kind of bad luck either makes you laugh or drives you crazy.

In the here and now, distance brings solace. Not a week seems to go by without a report from Malaysia or somewhere of some horrific loss of life. That's not real to us. We don't know any Malaysians. Thank God that, in most cases, we can chalk up tragedy to human stupidity or the dark, evil heart of people. An innocent bystander shot in a drive-by, a whole city living on top of a place where the earth moves like a drunk walking home at closing time, and God's off the hook.

Except sometimes.

I'm a minister of the Gospel of Christ, but tonight I feel like a mob lawyer, expected to get the guilty off on technicalities, character references, and the Fifth Amendment. "It rains on the just and the unjust," ain't gonna sway a jury.

To live with God, to love him still, means to stand in the rain and weep for little boys and girls, who, for no good reason, had no angels watching over them.

________

MICHAEL RILEY is a columnist for Gannett New Jersey newspapers. He can be reached at the Daily Record, 800 Jefferson Road, Parsippany, N.J. 07054.

By now almost everyone has heard of the tragedy that took place on Sept. 15, when a gunman entered Wedgwood Baptist Church and killed 7 people and injured 7 others before taking his own life. That morning had been the day of “See You at the Pole,” when students gather around their flagpole in the morning to pray for their school and nation.

What the media hasn’t reported, however, is how God has been so evident, both during and after the shooting. He has done amazing works!

Before The Shooting:

Our pastor, Brother Al, had prayed that God would do whatever it took to expand the ministry of Wedgwood Baptist Church. Our church is one that is used as a model of how NOT to pick a location, because no one in the world can find it. Now almost everyone in the world knows exactly where it is. Evidence of God’s Control During The Shooting:

To enter the church, the gunman walked past our children’s playground, which should have been full of kids, but for some reason every single children’s and preschool class was running late. No one had made it to the playground yet.

He fired over 100 bullets into a crowd of over 400, but only 14 people were hit.

He did not shoot the over 60 bullets he still had with him.

The bottom fell off of the pipe bomb he threw, and the bomb landed without ever exploding.

One of the youth that was wounded (she was shielding a disabled friend with her body) has scoliosis. The curve in her spine directed the bullet away from major organs, saving her from serious injury.

Because the first 911 call came in on a police radio, emergency vehicles were dispatched immediately, without spending precious time to verify that call was real.

One of the people in the church at the time was a paramedic, and he was able to stop bleeding and stabilize injured people before the emergency crews arrived.

Leaders were able to get the children out of the building without the kids having to see any victims or any of the mess.

Each children’s worker stayed with his/her class even though they all had children elsewhere in the building, and some had teens in the sanctuary. Not one worker left his or her post.

None of the adults who died have children.

All 7 victims were not just Christians, but bold Christians who were passionate about their faith. “You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is not being done, the saving of many lives.” (Genesis 50:20) Or, what God has done since the shooting:

Many denominations have pulled together to offer help and support. One example is the United Methodist Church who sent 15 people the following Sunday to cover our childcare. They didn’t want any church members to have to miss the service because they were taking care of the children.

A church in Tulsa, Oklahoma, drove over 5 hours just so they could march around our church and pray during our Sunday morning services.

The Fort Worth Police Dept. planted flowers in the flower beds before we reentered the sanctuary to worship.

We have received over 10,000 emails, 5000 cards, and $60,000 from all over the world

Al Meredith, our pastor has had the microphone in his face continually and has over and over given an outstanding answer to the reason for our hope. He presented the gospel beautifully on Larry King Live when prompted by a question asked by Vice President Al Gore.

Because of the live news coverage and interviews, over 200 million people have heard the gospel because of this tragedy.

Fifteen thousand turned out for a community wide service at TCU football stadium. Brother Al gave a very serious challenging message calling for a day of fasting and heart searching (Monday the 20th). The service was broadcast live in its entirety on WBAP 820 which is a news station that covers most of north Texas. This same news station has replayed our pastor’s first press conference due to people calling in and requesting to hear his comforting words again. CNN also broadcast the memorial service live. Amazingly, because one of the victim’s families lives and works in Saudi Arabia, that country allowed the service to be broadcast there as well. In Saudi Arabia it is illegal to say the name of Jesus on the street.

Because of that same CNN broadcast, 35 people in Japan gave their lives to Christ

When President Clinton finally got through to him, Brother Al ended their conversation by praying, after gaining permission, for the Clinton family. At several schools, students met around their flagpoles the next day. At one school 25 students accepted Christ, and 110 at another.

A teacher led 22 students to Christ in her classroom.

Christian teachers all over North Texas have been able to share with their classes because the students are asking questions about their teachers’ faith.

In Burleson, prayers and Scripture are being said over the intercom

On the east coast, where “See You at the Pole” was delayed because of the hurricane, record numbers of kids showed up to pray.

Governor Bush and the Fort Worth mayor quietly came to our pastor’s home while the staff were meeting and praying and joined in the prayer meeting. This was not political! Only those who are close to staff members heard about this; the media never knew.

Governor Bush has visited with our pastor several times, and Brother Al has had an impact on him. Just think of the influence our pastor could have if Governor Bush is the next president!

A caller to an area Christian radio station said that he didn’t know what those people had but he wanted it. The DJ proceeded to lead him to Christ. Many notes left in front of the church contain the same sentiment. Those who don’t know Jesus want what we have!

The church has received so many emails asking us how we are able to have hope and continue on. There are teams of church member volunteers responding to these emails.

My friend Jodi has been praying for her husband for years. She and their 4-yr-old daughter were at the church that night. 3 days ago Scott gave his life to Christ.

We have had over 70,000 hits on our web page which displays the plan of salvation in multiple languages.

Many members at Wedgwood Baptist are healing broken relationships within the body and experiencing spiritual renewal. These are just a few of the miracles that are happening. God’s grace is almost overwhelming. Every time the gunman fired a bullet, he intended to take a life. Yet God turned that around and saved several lives for each bullet fired. The faith of those who died has been multiplied many times over.

“I thank my God through Jesus Christ for all of you, because your faith is being reported all over the world..” Romans 1:8

________

You may want to refer to the church’s website for further information http://www.wedgwoodbc.org/wedgupdate.htm

How do you react when you're talking with a friend and your conversation is suddenly interrupted by the piercing wail of an ambulance siren? Do you feel pure sympathy for the person inside -- or about to be picked up by -- the ambulance, or do you feel some measure of annoyance? Similarly, how do you react when you're awakened from a deep sleep by a series of clanging fire trucks or the wail of a police car?

I am embarrassed to admit that, along with many others, my initial reaction to such noises often is impatience and annoyance rather than empathy. My friend, Rabbi Zalman Schachter Shalomi, suggests that whenever we hear the sound of a passing ambulance, we accustom ourselves to offering a prayer that the ambulance arrive in time. Similarly, whenever our sense of calm is interrupted by fire trucks, we should pray to God that the trucks arrive in time to save the endangered people and home and that no firefighter be injured. And when we hear police sirens, we should implore God that the police respond in time to the emergency.

I find this suggestion profound. By accustoming ourselves to uttering a prayer at the very moment we feel unjustly annoyed, we become better and more loving people. The very act of praying motivates us to empathize with those who are suffering and in need of our prayers. Furthermore, imagine how encouraging it would be for those being rushed to a hospital to know that hundreds of people who hear the ambulance sirens are praying for their recovery.

Speaking not long ago in Baltimore, I shared this suggestion. After my talk, several people commented on how moved they were by this ideal but one woman seemed particularly emotional when she spoke of the suggestion. When she was ten, she told me, she had been awakened from a deep sleep by passing fire trucks. It was almost one in the morning, and now, twenty-five years later, she still remembered her first response: It was so unfair that her sleep had been ruined!

The next morning she learned that her closest friend, a girl who lived only a few blocks away, had died in the fire. Ever since, she told me, whenever she hears fire trucks go by, she prays that they arrive at their destination in time.

Loving one's neighbor is usually carried out through tangible acts, by giving money or food to those in need, by stepping in and offering assistance to a neighbor who is ill, or by bringing guests into one's home. But sometimes, loving our neighbor is expressed through a prayer, one that attaches us to our "neighbor" even when we have no way of knowing just who our neighbor is.

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On September 11, 2001, Al Braca began his workday at his office on the 104th floor of One World Trade Center. He had been a vice president/bond broker for Cantor Fitzgerald for 16 years. He was on the phone that morning when an earsplitting explosion happened beneath him. The person on the phone with Al heard people yelling “Evacuate!” in the background; then the phones went dead. Those were the last words spoken by Al Braca to anyone who knew him well.

The plane had hit several floors below, at about the 90th floor. Cantor Fitzgerald offices were above the crash site; most likely, people in Al's office were trapped. Many people, as the nation saw in news reports, were trying to get to the roof via the windows and ledges because the heat and smoke were penetrating the upper floors rapidly. They did not make it. Most likely, Al and his colleagues were trapped and couldn't go down to get out. Al's wife, Jeannie, knew by the end of the day that her husband had died. Al was the kind that he would not have let her suffer all day if he had been alive. As Jeannie says, “He would have found a way to call me!”

We have at least a few details of Al's last moments.

Cantor Fitzgerald is a high-powered brokerage firm where power and money were very important. Things like marriage, kids and God can easily become a low priority. Many of Al's coworkers called him “the Rev,” half out of affection, half making fun of him. They noticed, though, that he lived a different life. Al was very open with his colleagues about his faith and what God had done in his life. Some coworkers harassed him about his “morality,” but they were usually the ones who also went to him privately to talk about marriage, work or some other personal problem. They often asked him to pray for them, and he challenged them to also spend time in prayer themselves.

When the World Trade Centers were bombed in 1993, Al was there helping his coworkers get down. It took three hours to get all the way down, and as people passed him in the halls they'd yell, “Hey, pray for us, Rev!” He'd respond by telling them that he had them covered! He stopped along the way and prayed with people who were upset or nervous. Even though some of his coworkers taunted him, they came to respect him and admired what he had.

In his last moments, Al continued his obedient journey to Christ. After the plane hit his tower on September 11, 2001 (according to spouses of some of Al's coworkers who died with him), “the Rev” got everyone in a circle, holding hands and praying. Some received the Lord for the first time. As usual, he thought of others more than himself. He stepped into eternity, ready to meet his Lord face to face, bringing with him some of those he had prayed about for so long.

What a way to go. That must have been such a lovely moment for Al. According to his family, he was not afraid to die and this was a great way to go -- serving the Lord in the middle of such a terrible time. He was able to help those who were with him to know a peace that goes beyond fear and pain.

HIS CHRISTIAN LIFE

According to friends and family, Al Braca was a man who never wavered in his faith. He loved God with all his heart for 23 years -- the length of his life as a Christian. He and his wife, Jeannie, both became Christians after they saw God heal their then 4-year-old daughter, Christina, of a rare blood disease. Although they had grown up going to church, neither Al nor Jeannie had made a personal commitment to Christ. Once they did, it was real and long-lasting. Al was the kind of person who was very real about his faith, never falsifying the Gospel by pretending that everything was okay when it wasn't. He knew that being a Christian didn't protect you from hard times. It meant that you had the faith and strength to get through those hard times.

Al's family was very important to him. He was proud of his children -- older son David, twins Christina and Deanna and younger son Christopher. By September 2001, David, Christina, and Deanna had married and had kids (three grandkids for Al and Jeannie and one on the way). The Brancas' youngest son, Christopher, was in his junior year of high school. All of his children said about their father: “Our dad didn't yell at us a lot. He taught us right from wrong. He trusted us and that made us not want to do the bad things that other kids seemed to be doing. He respected us and encouraged us all to have our own personal relationship with Christ and find our own calling in life.” They were taught that they couldn't be saved through their parents, but had to make that decision on their own. Eventually, all of Al's children became Christians.

Deanna, one of the twins, admired her dad because he seemed to never waver in his faith and taught them that the most important thing in life was a relationship with Christ and following His plan. She feels that her dad taught them to be faithful to God even when everyone around you is faithless. To follow God is the highest calling that anyone could have. Their parents also modeled a good marriage for the children.

Al was adventurous and included his family in that adventurous spirit. The kids were always exposed to things that would broaden their worlds. From traveling to seeing Broadway shows in the city, they did a lot together and saw the rest of the world. He and Jeannie were proud of the way God had helped them raise their kids. Al would be proud of them now. They all had personal relationships with Christ and they all were good people.

Deanna said that although it has been very hard to not have their dad around, they have the promise of seeing him again in eternity because of their faith in Christ. Holidays and special days have been sad at times, but there is an inner peace that surpasses all understanding in their hearts and minds. God has been the Great Comforter for this whole family.

Al was a supportive and caring husband as well. He and Jeannie met as young people and had a friendship that took its time. When they got engaged, they stayed pure until marriage. They knew how important the marriage commitment was even at that young age. He and Jeannie grew to know that in order to have a successful marriage, you must die to self. Jeannie remembers how much Al respected and loved her. She felt important to him -- he seemed to make it his goal to show her that, often. According to Al and Jeannie's relationship, marriage is not a 50/50 compromise but a 100/100 percent giving of self and serving each other.

Al knew how to serve in his marriage. One way that Al served his wife was to care for her after she had a massive heart attack in the late 1990s. He came home from work each day and cooked, cleaned and made sure the kids were ready for school. Jeannie got better -- a miracle herself, since she had only 16 percent of her heart's function left after the heart attack. She has been alive and well since. She attributes it to Christ's healing in her life and her husband's sweet care.

A CHURCHMAN

At church, Al Braca was very active. An elder at his church, Calvary Chapel in Four Winds, New Jersey, Al was very involved in living out his faith. He took the role of elder very seriously. He prayed for the church and what they could do for Christ. He and Jeannie were the head of the Couples Fellowship. They loved these couples and prayed for them often. In the last seven months before he died, Al had begun ministering to a small group of men. There were some challenges going on in his church. He was called on to help and he stepped up to the plate. He had also just been chosen as a deacon, to serve others.

Jeannie tells that Al believed their home should be a place where people could come and know Christ, whether that meant meeting Him for the first time or meeting Him as healer, comforter, counselor. Al tried to be the best friend and “brother” he could be to the men of the church. It was not unusual for them to have a breakfast Bible study or a baptism at the house. It was built for God, used by God, belonged to God. Early on, they had dedicated the house to God to be used for ministry; Jeannie continues with that commitment.

When Al ministered to others, they would often ask him to pray. When they did, he would ask them, “Did you pray about it too?” If not, he'd tell them to go to the Lord first, pray, and them come back. He continued to direct others to God, and not himself. He said that to everyone, including his family. Al was very concerned that people knew that their personal relationship with Christ was first and foremost.

A CHRISTIAN AT WORK

Many people turned to Al for help at his job as well. There were times when Al wasn't sure about staying at his job but he continued to feel called to stay and be an example to those he worked with. He respected the business, but saw the hardships that came with being in a very power-driven, money-hungry business world. Al felt strongly that everyone should have the chance to have the Gospel shared with them both in word and deed. He knew that he had a purpose and even though there were times when he wanted to quit, he felt the Lord telling him to stay, so he did. He often called his wife and asked her to pray for him to get through a certain situation. Al wanted to be “light” in the darkness, and he was glad that he could count on his family and church to encourage him in his calling, his job.

They say that the way we conduct ourselves in a challenging time shows our true character. The character of Christ certainly shone through many times in Al's life. He followed Christ with an obedient heart, and at the end of his life he stayed true to Christ.

Early in the morning of September 11, 2001, as Jeannie was having her quiet time, she asked the Lord to tell her what she should pray for. Her family came to mind. She prayed especially for her husband's protection that day, although that was her prayer every day. An impression that morning told Jeannie that God was going to “take Al home” that day. She dismissed it. As the morning went on, she learned of the planes attacking the Trade Centers and heard that Al's building had been hit just below his office. She still thought he was safe but would be the last down because he was probably helping others. The kids were called together and they waited. Hope diminished for them as the second plane hit. When the towers fell, there was even more fear that he may have died.

Church friends gathered around the Braca family and brought comfort and strength that only those close to you can bring. According to friends, a pastor's wife who knew the Braca family had a dream the night of September 11th. She dreamed that Al had been God's witness on the 104th floor and that, like Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, Jesus had been with Al through the fiery furnace he faced that day, and that he was not burned.

About a week later, Al's son went to the city to see if there was any chance of identifying him. As the workers heard his description, they asked if he had these certain characteristics, and certain clothes, including a particular ring -- and sure enough, Al's body had been preserved. According to reports, his was one of only 100 complete bodies found unharmed from the devastation of that day.

What can we learn from Al's life? A Scripture that was a favorite of Al's certainly speaks to his life. Proverbs 3:5-6 says this: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not to your own understanding, in all your ways acknowledge Him and he will make your paths straight.” This is what Al lived. He trusted, acknowledged and didn't lean on his own understanding. God walked with him all along his path and right into eternity, bringing with him some who learned in their last moments the Truth that Al lived all his life.

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Excerpted from a new book, “As the Towers Fell” by Lisa Chilson-Rose.

[also see HolwickID #26761]

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[Original illustration at this number was added to HolwickID #25059]

Rabbi Harold Kushner, who is probably best known for writing the highly successful book WHEN BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE, tells of a time in his life when he was on vacation sitting at a beach watching two children play.

One was a boy and one was a girl. They were building an elaborate sandcastle right near the water’s edge. Now when I say, “Sandcastle,” I mean a sandcastle! This one had a gigantic moat around it, fancy towers, underground passageways, even a makeshift drawbridge.

They worked hard on this thing for a long time, but wouldn’t you know it, as usually happens, a massive wave came crashing in from the ocean and just leveled that elaborate sandcastle. Nothing was left but a mound of sand.

Rabbi Kushner said he expected them to burst into tears and be upset but just the opposite kind of thing occurred. They grabbed each other by the hand; ran up the shore laughing and skipping and singing; plopped down on the beach in another place and began building another sandcastle.

He writes (and I quote), “I learned a great lesson that day. I was reminded that everything in our lives and in this world, all the complicated structures that we spend so much time and energy creating, are built on sand. Only our relationships to other people endure.

“Sooner or later, all the intricate things we try to build, all the things we labor for -- sooner or later a wave is going to come and knock them down. When that happens, only the person who has somebody’s hand to hold will be able to laugh.”

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[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #7492]

“For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his Son....” (Romans 8:29, NIV).

Was Jesus exempted from suffering? Was Jesus sometimes lonely? Was He tempted to be discouraged? Was He misunderstood, maligned and criticized unjustly?

If you see Mel Gibson's movie, “The Passion of The Christ,” then you'll know the answer to all these questions is YES.

So, what makes any of us think we'll be exempted from suffering, or loneliness, or discouragement, or unjust criticism?

The truth is, God is developing within you the character of Christ, and in order to do this He must take you through all of the circumstances in life that He took Christ through.

This means God is more interested in your character than your comfort, and He's more concerned about your holiness than your happiness.

So, the question is not IF you'll go through dark times in life; rather, it's WHEN you'll go through them.

Now, does God cause these tragedies? No. God is good, and He cannot cause evil or do evil.

BUT God can USE these dark and stressful times for good; He'll use them to build a Christlike character within us.

So, what should you do when you go through difficult times?

-- Refuse to be discouraged. King David said, “I will fear no evil” (Psalm 23:4, NIV). Will implies a choice, an act of decision. In the last 12 hours of Christ's life, you clearly see that He made a CHOICE to follow God's will; He made a CHOICE to face down fear; He made a CHOICE to ignore despair.

-- Remember that God is with you. David said, “For you are with me” (Psalm 23:4, NIV). God not only promises His power; He promises His presence. We will never go through a dark day alone. Jesus knew He wasn't alone as He walked out His passion.

-- Rely on God's protection and guidance. David said in Psalm 23:4 that God's rod and staff comforted him. The rod and staff were basic tools a shepherd used to protect and guide the sheep. God will be with you, and He'll protect and guide you. Jesus could have called down 10,000 angels; He could have called His disciples to arms; instead, He relied on God to protect and guide Him.

No matter who you are, whether you're a believer or not, we all eventually go through difficult times. The difference for the Christian, then, is not the absence of the shadow but the presence of the Light.

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[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #25719]

A General Electric ad raises the question: "What was Thomas Edison's biggest blunder?" The ad reveals that Edison opposed the theory of alternating current developed by Charles Steinmetz. The ad concludes by stating that Steinmetz was almost refused admission at Ellis Island as an unfit immigrant. That would indeed have been a tragedy. A greater tragedy, however, takes place all the time. People turn Christ away on the doorstep of their lives because they do not want Him to reign over their lives. And just think of the light that He brings for our darkness!

Consider again the ancient figure Job. Even in his pain he never lost sight of the fact that God was very much in control. But, you know, he did have a struggle. He had always assumed that if you are good you will be blessed and if you are bad you will be cursed. Why, when he had been good, was he being cursed?

Suffering might not square well with our assumptions either. The theological lenses through which Job viewed his agony drastically shaped his response to his troubles. We, too, have a particular perspective about how we think that God should behave. Do we presume that pain is punishment? Even further, might we assume that God owes us happiness - immediate and uninterrupted?

Listen to the words of Malcolm Muggeridge:

Contrary to what might be expected, I look back on experiences

that at the time seemed especially desolating and painful, with

particular satisfaction. Indeed, I can say with complete

truthfulness that everything I have learned in my seventy-five

years in this world, everything that has truly enhanced and

enlightened my existence, has been through affliction and not

through happiness, whether pursued or attained. In other words,

if it ever were to be possible to eliminate affliction from our

earthly existence by means of some drug or other medical mumbo

jumbo...the result would not be to make life delectable, but to

make it too banal or trivial to be endurable. This of course is

what the cross signifies, and it is the cross more than anything

else, that has called me inexorably to Christ. (1)

What is he saying? He is reminding us that sometimes in moments when we thought all was lost, we end up finding out that some of life’s greatest truths were found.

You see dear friend, one of the arguments of Christian philosophers is that that God has a morally justifiable reason for allowing suffering. And if we see in the midst of our pain that we are not sovereign, that alone is a vital lesson for proud humanity. But there is more. The Cross of Jesus Christ is the quintessential expression of unjust suffering. In the midst of his crucifixion He prayed for the forgiveness of His tormentors. Life was mended by God’s grace at the point when all else seemed broken. Could it be possible that in the midst of our pain some of the greatest wealth of God's grace can be experienced. Pause and take note that even in your life, a sudden tragedy may be a call to you to stop you long enough that you might listen to Him and see your life through His lenses, not yours.

_________________________

Copyright © 2002 Ravi Zacharias International Ministries (RZIM). Reprinted with permission. "A Slice of Infinity" is a radio ministry of Ravi Zacharias International Ministries.

Forty-four years after he was burned beyond recognition, Frank Hensley is still asking why. But the student at Campbell University Divinity School is not questioning why this awful tragedy happened to him, but instead why God chose to use him in this way and how he can use his experience to glorify God.

Frank's elementary school in Mt. Airy, North Carolina, burned to the ground Feb. 22, 1957. With third-degree burns over 75 percent of his body, the 10-year-old faced eight months at Baptist Hospital in Winston-Salem, N.C. -- three weeks of that in a coma -- and dozens of surgeries. Decades later, he doesn't want to talk about his pain or struggles, however, but his spiritual journey.

If his scars get in the way of a person seeing God in his life, he says his witness has failed.

Frank was the last person to leave his fourth-grade classroom, because he wanted to get his brother's jean jacket hanging in the back. As he entered the hallway, he lost consciousness in the smoke and intense heat. When he came to, he tried to open the door of another classroom. It immediately exploded when he edged open the door. The impact threw him back across the hall, into the wall, where once again he passed out. He remembers waking up out in the schoolyard and running toward home. "God had to be the one that carried me outside," he believes.

A high school student corralled him and other injured students and led them toward the principal's office, located in the adjacent high school. An ambulance took five badly burned children to a nearby clinic in Dobson, N.C. It wasn't until he was there in a room alone that he saw himself in a mirror and then saw a "figure dressed in white who said, 'You will be all right.'"

During the next eight months, he had skin grafts all over his body. When he had no more skin to graft, his father volunteered to be skinned from his thighs to his ankles on both legs to provide what Frank needed.

During Frank's hospital stay, his mother missed visiting only one day. She and another burned child's parent wore out a car, so the community purchased one for them.

Frank remembers his own pain, but tears come when he talks about what his parents went through. "The pain and itching that my father experienced had to be almost unbearable," he says as he wipes his eyes.

When Frank first came home from the hospital, he wanted to die. His sister screamed in shock when she saw him the first time. Others just stared. He felt helpless. He was able to wear street clothes but he couldn't buckle his belt or tie his shoes. A banner waved to welcome him, but he didn't want to be there. If his 52-pound body had had the strength to pull the trigger on his father's gun, he says he would have done it.

Just days later, he says the Lord turned him around. "God said you can't do that. You've got to do something about your life."

On his 11th birthday, just 10 days out of the hospital, Frank joined the Boy Scouts. He passed every requirement for Eagle Scout except the swimming merit badge.

At age 12, he started going door-to-door selling Fuller brushes with an older gentleman. He drove a school bus for two years and worked at a service station before going Campbell University in Buies Creek, N.C., to start his college career. In the meantime, he was a member of the student council, the Spanish club, and the key club in high school. He was determined to be all that God wanted him to be. "I had to get myself out in public."

Life still wasn't easy, however. He had blood transfusions every week for several weeks. He had a tube in his throat for four years to help with breathing. He and his family created therapy machines for stretching his elbows and fingers, which had drawn up in the healing process. He put together model cars with intricate details such as spark plugs to push his fine motor skills. His surgeries continued four or five times a year until after his freshman year in college when he refused to have any more. The doctors had done all that they could do to help him functionally. "At least, I never had to worry about 'zits,'" he says with a chuckle.

He completed his requirements for a degree in business administration, married his high school sweetheart, whom he met on his school bus route, and moved to Salisbury, N.C., where she completed her nursing degree. He worked in vocational rehabilitation for nine years there. While in Salisbury, they attended Stallings Memorial Baptist Church. That is where they first became involved in preschool work. Soon thereafter, the pastor "sat me down and told me that we were going to Ridgecrest [Conference Center] for training, and we did." Along the way, he has been involved in a variety of secular jobs, but "God was continuing to work on me."

He said he visited the Campbell University Divinity School to see what it was all about and had every question answered and every objection dismissed. "Every time I tried to run, something was there to put the skids on it."

He finally gave up and "decided to make something of myself." He admits that he probably should have been in ministry 20 to 30 years ago. During his time as director of the preschool department at Green Street Baptist Church in High Point, NC, the department grew from 80 to 350 preschoolers and from 12 to 45 teachers. "If you see me in the hall, I'll be on my knees, eyeball to eyeball with those little kids." For the past year, he has served as the interim minister of education.

"One of my passions in life is putting people at ease with me," he explains. He remembers as a 12-year-old catching himself staring at a person in a wheelchair. "I've got to help them look past my scars and see Christ in me."

Part of the reason that he says he resisted the ministry so long was that "the devil constantly made me question my motives. Did I just want to draw attention to myself?"

He says he has failed Christ if all people see is Frank.

Have you heard the story about the sailor who leads his crew on a sea voyage, undaunted by storm or sea, only to end up in disaster? Sounds like the hugely successful film, THE PERFECT STORM. But the story I have in mind is thousands of years older -- the ORESTEIA by the Greek playwright Aeschylus.

THE PERFECT STORM may be the hottest film of the summer of 2000, but the ORESTEIA is among the greatest plays of Western Civilization. Both teach poignant lessons about the dangers of pride. And although THE PERFECT STORM's filmmakers may not have had that in mind, Aeschylus certainly did.

The stories both tell of men of astounding determination. In the ORESTEIA, King Agamemnon leads a confederation of Greeks on a voyage to besiege Troy and recover his brother's wife, Helen.

But the gods raise up a massive storm that threatens to end the war before it begins. Well, Agamemnon refuses to be stopped. And rather than risk his fragile coalition, he makes the fateful decision to sacrifice his daughter to appease the gods.

The Greeks cross the Aegean Sea and ultimately defeat the Trojans. But their success is mixed -- particularly for Agamemnon, who returns home only to be murdered by his vengeful wife.

It may seem difficult to relate to this classic figure, but the Greeks surely recognized the king's tension, between his family and his job. And how many of us today face the same dilemma?

It's easier, perhaps, to relate to the fishermen on the ANDREA GAIL -- they needed money. A run of bad luck prompts the captain to make one last trip for the season. But he finds little success, and the fishermen plead with him to turn back. Yet he presses on, far out to sea. Finally, they fill the hold of the ship with fish, only to find their path home blocked by a storm of incredible power. Waiting out the storm's fury would cost them their catch, so they sail on, into disaster.

We can't help but be sympathetic -- relating to such a fateful choice is, of course, the point of tragedy. But tragedy also helps us recognize error, and how to avoid it.

Agamemnon's refusal to take no for an answer led to his tragic fate -- the deaths of his daughter and himself. Similarly, the ANDREA GAIL's captain wouldn't listen to reason. It cost him not only his fishermen's lives, but that of a Coast Guardsman attempting rescue as well.

We often hear words like "gumption" or "chutzpah" used to describe this kind of thinking. But the Greeks called it HUBRIS -- a better word, one which means excessive pride -- an unwillingness to admit limitations.

And this is why, in the Christian view of things, pride is a deadly sin, for it is often self-destructive. We may be created in God's image, but we are NOT "the measure of all things."

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Copyright (c) 2000 Prison Fellowship Ministries. Reprinted with permission. "BreakPoint with Chuck Colson" is a radio ministry of Prison Fellowship Ministries.

The most harrowing event in former First Lady Laura Bush’s life was the November 6, 1963, car accident she caused that took the life of her high school classmate, a popular varsity athlete named Mike Douglas. The accident occurred when 17-year-old Laura was behind the wheel of her father’s Chevy Impala, driving with her girlfriend, Judy Dykes, to the movies. As the girls were chit-chatting, the future Mrs. Bush blew a stop sign at an intersection and hit Welch’s car at 50 miles per hour.

“In those awful seconds, the car door must have been flung open by the impact and my body rose in the air until gravity took over and I was pulled, hard and fast, back to earth,” she writes. “The whole time ... I was praying that the person in the other car was alive. In my mind, I was calling ‘Please, God. Please, God. Please, God,’ over and over and over again.”

Bush writes that afterward, she lost her faith in God for “many, many years.”

“It was the first time that I had prayed to God for something, begged him for something, not the simple childhood wishing on a star but humbly begging for another human life. And it was as if no one heard,” she writes. “My begging, to my 17-year-old mind, had made no difference. The only answer was the sound of Mrs. Douglas’ sobs on the other side of that thin emergency room curtain.”

*

[Original illustration at this number was a duplicate of HolwickID #12789]

Sandra felt as low as the heels of her Birkenstocks as she pushed against a November gust and the florist shop door. Her life had been easy, like spring breeze. Then in the fourth month of her second pregnancy, a minor automobile accident stole her ease.

During this Thanksgiving week she would have delivered a son. She grieved over her loss. As if that weren't enough, her husband's company threatened a transfer. Then her sister, whose holiday visit she coveted, called saying she could not come. What's worse, Sandra's friend infuriated her by suggesting her grief was a God-given path to maturity that would allow her to empathize with others who suffer.

"She has no idea what I'm feeling," thought Sandra with a shudder. Thanksgiving? Thankful for what? she wondered. For a careless driver whose truck was hardly scratched when he rear-ended her? For an airbag that saved her life but took that of her child?

"Good afternoon, can I help you?" The shop clerk's approach startled her.

"I ... I need an arrangement," stammered Sandra.

"For Thanksgiving? Do you want beautiful but ordinary, or would you like to challenge the day with a customer favorite I call the Thanksgiving "Special?" asked the shop clerk. "I'm convinced that flowers tell stories," she continued. "Are you looking for something that conveys 'gratitude' this Thanksgiving?"

"Not exactly!" Sandra blurted out. "In the last five months, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong." Sandra regretted her outburst, and was surprised when the shop clerk said, "I have the perfect arrangement for you."

Then the door's small bell rang, and the shop clerk said, "Hi, Barbara...let me get your order." She politely excused herself and walked toward a small workroom, then quickly reappeared, carrying an arrangement of greenery, bows, and long-stemmed thorny roses. Except the ends of the rose stems were neatly snipped: there were no flowers.

"Want this in a box?" asked the clerk.

Sandra watched for the customer's response. Was this a joke? Who would want rose stems with no flowers! She waited for laughter, but neither woman laughed.

"Yes, please," Barbara replied with an appreciative smile. "You'd think after three years of getting the special, I wouldn't be so moved by its significance, but I can feel it right here, all over again," she said as she gently tapped her chest.

"Uh," stammered Sandra, "that lady just left with, uh ... she just left with no flowers!"

"Right, said the clerk, "I cut off the flowers. That's the Special. I call it the Thanksgiving Thorns Bouquet."

"Oh, come on, you can't tell me someone is willing to pay for that!" exclaimed Sandra.

"Barbara came into the shop three years ago feeling much like you feel today," explained the clerk. "She thought she had very little to be thankful for. She had lost her father to cancer, the family business was failing, her son was into drugs, and she was facing major surgery."

"That same year I had lost my husband," continued the clerk, "and for the first time in my life, had just spent the holidays alone. I had no children, no husband, no family nearby, and too great a debt to allow any travel."

"So what did you do?" asked Sandra.

"I learned to be thankful for thorns," answered the clerk quietly. "I've always thanked God for good things in life and never to ask Him why those good things happened to me, but when bad stuff hit, did I ever ask! It took time for me to learn that dark times are important. I have always enjoyed the 'flowers' of life, but it took thorns to show me the beauty of God's comfort.

You know, the Bible says that God comforts us when we're afflicted, and from His consolation we learn to comfort others."

Sandra sucked in her breath as she thought about the very thing her friend had tried to tell her. "I guess the truth is I don't want comfort. I've lost a baby and I'm angry with God."

Just then someone else walked in the shop. "Hey, Phil!" shouted the clerk to the balding, rotund man.

"My wife sent me in to get our usual Thanksgiving arrangement ... twelve thorny, long-stemmed stems!" laughed Phil as the clerk handed him a tissue-wrapped arrangement from the refrigerator.

"Those are for your wife?" asked Sandra incredulously. "Do you mind me asking why she wants something that looks like that?"

"No ... I'm glad you asked," Phil replied. "Four years ago my wife and I nearly divorced. After forty years, we were in a real mess, but with the Lord's grace and guidance, we slogged through problem after problem. He rescued our marriage. Jenny here (the clerk) told me she kept a vase of rose stems to remind her of what she learned from "thorny" times, and that was good enough for me. I took home some of those stems. My wife and I decided to label each one for a specific "problem" and give thanks for what that problem taught us."

As Phil paid the clerk, he said to Sandra, "I highly recommend the Special!"

"I don't know if I can be thankful for the thorns in my life." Sandra said to the clerk. "It's all too...fresh."

"Well," the clerk replied carefully, "my experience has shown me that thorns make roses more precious. We treasure God's providential care more during trouble than at any other time. Remember, it was a crown of thorns that Jesus wore so we might know His love. Don't resent the thorns."

Tears rolled down Sandra's cheeks. For the first time since the accident, she loosened her grip on resentment. "I'll take those twelve long-stemmed thorns, please," she managed to choke out.

"I hoped you would," said the clerk gently. "I'll have them ready in a minute."

"Thank you. What do I owe you?"

"Nothing. Nothing but a promise to allow God to heal your heart. The first year's arrangement is always on me." The clerk smiled and handed a card to Sandra. "I'll attach this card to your arrangement, but maybe you would like to read it first."

It read: My God, I have never thanked You for my thorns. I have thanked You a thousand times for my roses, but never once for my thorns. Teach me the glory of the cross I bear; teach me the value of my thorns. Show me that I have climbed closer to You along the path of pain. Show me that, through my tears, the colors of Your rainbow look much more brilliant."

Praise Him for your roses, thank him for your thorns.

Mark Twain, the famous American writer had a life full of tragic crises. He was notorious as a skeptic and unbeliever. Here are some of the troubles that plagued him:

1858 - Twain's younger brother Henry, whom he had recruited to work on steamboats, was badly scalded by a boiler explosion on the steamboat Pennsylvania. This is how Twain described the long painful death of his brother: “For forty-eight hours I labored at the bedside of my poor burned and bruised but uncomplaining brother...and then the star of my hope went out and left me in the gloom of despair…” Twain had prayed "prayed as never man prayed before," but his brother still died. [see HolwickID #34997]

1872 - lost his infant son, Langdon, aged 19 months. (Twain was 37)

1895 - lost his fortune by bad business investments. He had to go on a two-year worldwide lecture tour to pay off his debts. He had to leave two of his daughters at home, but his wife and middle daughter traveled with him.

1896 - after much success, arrived in London, planning to have two girls come to London to meet them. Upon hearing word that Susie, the oldest and favorite, was ill, he sent his wife and daughter back to America. Before they arrived in the United States, Twain got a telegram telling him that Susie was dead of spinal meningitis. Twain blamed himself.

1902 - Twain's beloved wife died. She was the light of his life. His grief was incredible.

1906 - Youngest daughter an epileptic, became violent, was sent to an institution. Begged to come home a few years later. Twain agreed.

1909 - Youngest daughter determined to make Christmas “like old times”. Much bustle and preparation followed. On Christmas Eve she got up for a full day of preparations. A servant heard her go into her bath, but after a long delay became concerned; she had had a seizure and drowned in her own bathtub.

Twain often railed against God and expressed the idea in this question: “If God is good, and he is able to do something about tragedy, why doesn't he?”

One commentator said that Twain wanted to believe in God but couldn't bring himself to it.