A Life Worth Giving

I noticed the kid was dressed in a Junior ROTC uniform and I remembered they had that every Wednesday. I was subbing in World History that day and he sat there beaming at his desk.

“Hello, Miss!” He exclaimed smiling a little too broadly.

“Hello, Chris. That’s your name, right?

“Right!”

“So what branch of the military do you want to be in?” I asked.

“The Army, Miss. But not just the regular Army: the Special Ops. I want to be a trained assassin.”

“A trained assassin?” I asked. “What’s involved with that?”

“Oh, Miss, listen! I want to be the one that goes right into the heat of battle and kills lots of bad guys.”

“You want to risk your life that way?” I was surprised at the goals of this 15 year old boy.

“Yes, Miss. Of course I do.”

“You don’t want a safer job behind the lines somewhere?”

“No, Miss. That’s why I’m signing up as soon as I’m outta high school. I want to blow up people.”

“Really??” I asked.

“Really. I want to get into a group of bad terrorists secretly and yell out: “Okay, you bad guys! In the name of the United States of America, you are done! And then I push a button and blow us all away.”

“You’d blow yourself away too?”

“Yes, Miss! Of course I would. It would be so cool.” He smile got even broader.

“That’s patriotic of you.” I said. I couldn’t help but be challenged by his youthful expression of exuberance. I could see he really loved his country.

I wondered then if I could do that too for Christ. Would I give Him my all and then go and prove it? Give up everything for Him even my physical existence?

We then studied our lessons about the Reformers and the Reformation and how they, too, gave it their all and some gave their very lives for the cause of Christ.

Jesus said that’s what was required of His disciples. This kid shamed me that day into thinking about it and he was right. What else was there to live for? Why would any of us want to live behind enemy lines instead of confronting the enemy? Why would any of us hold back from giving Our King our all?

I still read this Bible verse even now and my backbone straightens. I remember that we are but dust and everything we own is but dust. Do we want to continue living like cowards and sissies or do we want to do valiant deeds for the Kingdom; a Kingdom that would never end?

He that findeth his life shall lose it: and he that loseth his life for my sake shall find it. Matt 10:39

Lord, thank you for this reminder and rebuke. Please give me the grace to live –and be ready to die- for You every day!

The Whippersnapper

(This is an excerpt from my book about two knights who are lost in the wilderness and meet a strange creature. It shows how the world thinks. Worldly people just believe in themselves. They don't need God. Or at least, that's what they always say. I've written in parable form the mechanics of what worldly people actually think when they reject God. This is sort of like Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis.)


“He said his name was Mr. Whippersnapper or just Whippersnapper for short.

 

“It said it merely wanted to ask us some questions.

 

 “The monster’s smile seemed to grow as it starred at both of us and his whole body seemed to glow even brighter.

 

“The first question was something about who do we admire the most: the one person, living or dead that we looked up to as our hero.

 

"Then it said, ‘What about your saint?’

 

“We both agreed that St. Patrick Nubar, the warrior musician who is the hero of every Octamanian knight, was someone we looked up to. However, I mentioned he was dead now.

 

 “Then he said something real strange. He asked us about what we thought about the Good Shepherd.

 

“The mention of that name brought frowns to both of us.

 

“I spoke up now first and answered honestly. I said that we’ve been taught some about him but we had never actually met him.

 

“Smuff added that he didn’t know if the Good Shepherd really existed, although some people have said they had met him. He thought it was a bunch of tall tales and make-believe stories.

 

“Then, Smuff went on to talk more about St Patrick. He said something like:  ‘We know he ‘ears us! See this?’ He pulled a thin gold chain out of his shirt that had a small medal dangling on it. It was a charm and he told the Wippersnapper it was a small likeness of St Patrick which the Witch had given to him.

 

“The Whippersnapper seemed pleased with this answer. Then it said it had two more questions for us and they were very important ones. One was: why we prayed to anyone or had faith in anybody. Why couldn’t we have faith in ourselves? Did we really need a saint or god to inspire us? Couldn’t we do great things without Delon (or God)?

 

“It was more than two questions, so we thought about them for a few minutes.

 

“’Belief in yourself? What’s that?’ I asked him back.

 

“He went on to say that we didn’t have to have faith in anybody but ourselves; not even St. Patrick or Delon or the Good Shepherd.  Before he let us go, he wanted a promise from us to do a favor for him. He wanted to always be our friend. He said he wanted both of us to help Lord Loving write something about the twenty laws of funkyjunk. I think he said ‘twenty’…and I had no clue what funkyjunk was.

 

“So, we both nodded our heads. I was tired, wet and cold and suddenly got the urge to go home and sleep in my own bed.

 

“He was really happy that we would go along with him.  And, he wanted us to tell everyone the same message – to believe in themselves. ‘It’s foolish to believe any other way.’ is the exact quote. The creature was noddin’ and its smile was real broad but deep down inside, but I still didn’t trust it.”

 

from the book The Land of Efacia by Laura Bentz

 

Pedro and Sophia

I mentioned to the class that I was moving to Germany soon.

One of the students perked up and spoke.

“Miss, I’m moving to Cocoa Beach this weekend. This is my last day.” Scarlet looked at me and smiled softly. She was a student in a class where I was substituting and had been for about two months.

“Really?” I said. “Why are you moving there?”

“I’m going to live with my cousin. I’m getting out of foster care.”

“Well, I’m moving to Germany for my grandchildren.” It was the end of class so I showed her a picture of them in a book of snapshots my son had made of their summer vacation with us. “Here they are right here.”

“Can I look at your whole book?” She asked.

“Of course,” I replied.

She flipped the pages and looked at all the pictures until she froze on one page and her eyes opened wide with shock.

“Sophia Maria.” She said. “Who is this?”

“That’s my grandchild that was a miscarriage.” I replied.

A tear trickled down her face. “That’s the name I picked out for my baby.”

“Your baby?”  Now it was my turn to be shocked. “You’re having a baby?”

“Yes.” She lifted up her list with the name circled.

“Don’t worry!” I said. “I’m sure yours will be born and it will be just fine.”

 I gave her a pat on the arm. But I couldn’t help but feel a sinking feeling inside. “I will be praying for you.” I whispered as my eyes moistened, too.

She tried to smile and whispered “thanks”.

Next period, I showed them the book again and this time Griselda was looking at the miscarried baby with much interest.

“How far along, Miss, was this one?” She said pointing to the picture.

“5 ½ months.” I replied noting her swelling belly and assuming she was pregnant too.

“Mine was the same age.”

“Did you have a miscarriage too?”

“Yes, Miss. His name was going to be Pedro. I had him at age 16. I guess I was too young. Now, its 2 years later and I’m older. I’m hoping everything will be okay this time. I’m due in January.”

“And it’s the same father?”

“Yes.” She smiled a sad smile.

“What about school?”

“I’ll be done with school by then. I graduate the end of December.”

I looked at her and wished I could hug her. Maybe I could give her a shower gift. Maybe tell her the good news of Jesus and how much he loved her. Somehow, I wanted to reach out and tell her everything would be okay for her, too.

“I’m praying for you.” I just said.

She smiled again and whispered, “Thanks.”

Children having children will only bring heartbreak. But I can pray for them and hope for the comfort of God.

You can too; we all can too.

 

I wonder who else is pregnant…

Lions

On the eve of Election Day: A poem I wrote about 20 years ago. No matter how dark it looks, remember God is still on his throne and prayer changes things!

How do I shut the mouths of lions?

How do my thoughts stay under control?

Why must I face demons and devils,

And trust God to see me through?

Christ’s love is what counts,

But it’s hard to love an ugly soul;

It’s hard to love a black hole.

When they suck me up like a Hoover;

And I’m tired inside.

I feel wiped out

And drained to the pulp.

And I go to God for help.

‘Cause if I don’t I’ll just whelp

And get the blues.

So fill up my tank, Lord,

On heaven’s bright shore.

I'll put on my dented armor

To fight the enemy once more.

Help me get all these temptations

Out of the way;

And I'll trust in You

As I do every day.

Then, when I go down into the valley

Please restore my soul,

To face another battle,

You're still in control.

For I remember one secret

We all need to learn,

Everything eternal is lasting.

The rest will just burn.

Even the Lions.