Arizona Veto - Why It Was The Right Decision

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The Governor of Arizona vetoed a bill today under much scrutiny from the rest of the country.  It was a bill that was originally intended to give business owners the right to deny service to people based on “deeply held religious beliefs.” It was prompted by a bakery owner that didn’t feel comfortable baking a cake for a gay couple’s wedding. 

As I sat listening to the news this week, my 12-year-old son close by, my initial reaction was, “It’s a matter of religious freedom!”  Of course, we should protect the rights of a business owner to not be forced to participate in something that offends his or her religious beliefs.  I’ve even been asked to pray for a business owner who was approached to do the flowers for a gay couple’s wedding.  She was praying for the courage to say, “No.”

The more I pondered my position, though, the more uncomfortable I became with it.  I searched my Bible for instances where Jesus told us to go and fight for our moral freedoms.  I looked for any times that He instructed us to go and argue with people about what they are doing wrong.  I looked for places where the sin of homosexuality is singled out as the biggest threat of all time to our religious freedom.

Sweet friend, I couldn’t find it.  Over and over, Jesus, then Peter, Paul, and John tell us to act with kindness. We are told to turn the other cheek.  We are called to serve.  We are told to go and preach the Good News (which, by the way, is not translated as “Go and tell them why you disagree with them).  

Paul does address homosexuality among a list of things in 1 Timothy 1.  He lists homosexuals among many “sinners” for whom the Law was written.  He says, “the Law is not for the righteous, but for lawbreakers.”  He goes on to say:

I thank Christ Jesus our Lord, who has given me strength, that he considered me trustworthy, appointing me to his service. Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.

Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his immense patience as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life. ~ 1 Timothy 1:12-16 (NIV)

Service… Patience… Abundant Grace… 

This doesn’t sound like teaching that supports saber rattling, does it?  Remember, Jesus came to a nation of Israel that was subject to a cruel occupying government in the Romans.  If there were ever a population to be frothed  into protest, violence and civil unrest, it was the First Century nation of Israel.  Jesus said, “Blessed are the peacemakers” (Matthew 5:9).  

It was right to veto this bit of legislation – it didn’t accomplish its intent.  It did not unite, it divided.  It didn’t bring freedom, but protected bigotry.  It didn’t elevate the discussion of faith, but demanded rights.

It was for freedom that we were set free (Galatians 5:1).  Don’t let your faithful fervor block others from seeing  Jesus.

A Grieving Friend -- Some Advice About What (Not) To Say

Grief has settled on my heart these last two weeks.  Two people I care for deeply have lost close loved ones.  Though my heart breaks, this is not my grief.  It is theirs and to pretend this is about me would be the height of pride.

I recently heard a panel of widows of varying ages give advice on what is helpful... and what isn't.  Here is what they said, with a few of my thoughts mixed in:

1. You don't have to SAY anything.  For someone who is grieving the loss of a close loved one, such as a child or a spouse, no words will take away their pain.  The comfort comes in knowing that you love them enough to sit with them in their choking grief.  You are available and didn't run away.  Words like, "I love you" are helpful. "I'm sorry" is less helpful.  It forces the grieving to tell you that it's okay when it is exactly the opposite.

2. Don't inflict the grieving mother or widow with your attempt to find meaning in her loss.  "God will work this for good" not only isn't helpful, but it assumes that we love a God that is a sadist.  It was not His plan that cancer took a young father or that a woman face years of isolation because her spouse has died.  Oh, and please don't use cliches like, "God will only give you what you can handle."  That's bad theology, and it is hurtful.

3. Do talk about the person who died.  Never mentioning the name of the lost loved one implies that their life had no meaning - and that thought is nearly unbearable.  It is comforting for the grieving person to hear how her loved one touched the lives of others.  It is healing to laugh at the memory of fun moments or silly antics.

4. Take something "off her plate."  The decisions that have to be made by next of kin in the moments and weeks (sometimes, years) following a loss can be overwhelming even if the death was expected.  Don't ask if she needs anything.  She likely isn't able to formulate coherent thoughts on the subject.  Go ahead and fill her freezer with simple meals. Organize the dinner after the service. Clean her bathrooms because there are bound to be guests. If you aren't sure and you aren't the best friend, sister, etc, find her "person."  They'll tell you.

5. Be there for the long haul.  When the world has resumed it's routine, the grief remains.  Some days it is less overwhelming than others, but the loss isn't gone.  She'll still need someone to talk to and cry with after the "appropriate" grieving period has passed.  Be there. If she was half of a couple, remember that she needs to be hugged from time to time.  Go ahead and invite her out to dinner, even though the table won't be even.  Take her to see a movie.
The truth is that our Heavenly Father hurts with us because He knows how it feels to lose a loved one.  He lost His Son (though briefly) on the cross.  Jesus cried over Lazarus and His heart went out to the widow of Nain.  Ask Him to equip you to love on your grieving sister and He will happily give you what you need to be His hands and His feet.

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our forerunner, Jesus, has entered on our behalf. ~ Hebrews 6:19-20a

One Phone Call CAN Change Everything!

As the mother of a kindergartener and preschooler, the shower was often the only moment of peace I could look forward to in a day.  That cold January morning was no different.  We had rushed home from an out-of-state holiday visit only to have a snowstorm cancel the first school day of the New Year.  I stepped in the shower at about 11:00—typical for a hunkered-down day with nothing but mommy-stuff on the agenda.  In the midst of washing my hair, my 5-year-old banged his little fist on the shower door, scaring me half to death!  “What, Honey?” I asked.  “Daddy needs to talk to you,” he said as he thrust the phone around the now half-open shower door.  “Tell him that I’ll call him back!” I panicked, trying to cover myself and imagining the wet mess I’d have to clean up if I couldn’t close the door.  He repeated my response into the phone (as if my husband hadn’t heard my screeching).  “He says he got a call from Mrs. Wagner,” said my calm little angel.  He had no idea what he had just said to me.  I didn’t bother to finish rinsing off.  I quickly turned off the shower, wrapped a towel around my wet self and took the phone from my little boy.

            You see, it had been thirty-eight years since I last spoke to “Mrs. Wagner.”  Despite my attempts to find her, I had failed.  I had hoped that she would be able to share my joy at the birth of our first child, but I ran into a wall and didn’t know how to proceed.  My parents had even tried to find her, but with no luck.  Mrs. Wagner is my birth mother and my husband knew I’d recognize the name.

            I was adopted at the age of 6 weeks by loving, godly parents. I learned of my adoption at age 3. It was a fact treated in my family with honesty, but not as anything unusual.  Both my brother and sister had arrived in our family in different ways, too.  My brother was a foster child, having chosen against adoption, and my sister was one of those happy surprises that God sometimes gives infertile couples.  My parents and I had talked and planned for the day when we would find my birth mother and thank her for the difficult choice she made on my behalf.

            Because my parents had been given a tiny bit of information explaining the reasons for her choice, I never felt abandoned.  In fact, I felt twice-loved.  The thought of being adopted into the Family of God always made perfect sense to me.  Romans 8:15 says, “For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, “Abba, Father” (NASB).”  The word used here for “adoption” here is a Greek legal term that had no Hebrew equivalent.  It means “in this same spot.”  This word carries the notion that even though you were not born to the rights and privileges of sonship, you have been placed in the same spot as a son under the law.  How you arrived in the family is irrelevant.  That’s the sort of family that God gave me - physically and spiritually. 

            That was quite a day.  Before I dialed my birth mother at the number she left with my husband, I gave my mom and my sister a call.  I knew they’d want to hold me up in prayer as my life was about to change.  I also had to sit my precious little ones down and explain all of this to them.  It seemed like a lot to expect them to absorb as we sat on the stairs and talked.  The conversation was surprisingly easy.  It didn’t seem strange to them that I grew in another lady’s tummy before I went to live with Grandma and Grandpa.  My four-year-old daughter looked at me with her beautiful hazel eyes and said, “Um, Mom?  Are you my birth mother?”  “Yes, I am,” I said with an oddly steady voice.  “Okay,” she said brightly.  “I’m gonna go play.”  And with that, they both bounded off to resume what I had interrupted.

            I headed for the kitchen and picked up the phone, my hands a little shaky.  I was about to learn more about myself and my history in a single moment than I had known my entire life.  I had so many questions and so much to tell her… but I had no idea where to start.  I suddenly realized that the phone was ringing on the other end of the line.  I needn’t have worried. Over an hour later, having been given the gift of an almost-uninterrupted conversation by my little ones, I hung up.  We were all going to meet as soon as we could coordinate a time and place—my parents would want to be there, too.  I took a deep breath. My next two calls were again to my mother and sister, to fill them in. 

            I couldn’t wait to meet her in person.  Six weeks later, we all met in Dallas, Texas.  My mom was able to say in person what had been on all of our hearts from the beginning, “Thank you for the choice you made and the selfless gift that you gave.”