Assurance

Death Benefits, Revisited

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me (Galatians 2:20).

Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness (Genesis 15:6 (NIV).

I’ve been known to gasp over a post-Christmas credit card bill or cringe when writing my annual property tax check, but this may have been a first – tears filled my eyes as I gazed at a deposit to my account. The deposit was present because my husband no longer is.

After dealing with the aftermath of Ray’s sudden death – notifying family and friends, planning and attending his visitation, funeral, and burial services, traveling back and forth to North Carolina – grief clouded my thinking and slowed my body. Not yet able to fully grasp the finality of the situation, I moved through my days moment-by-moment, piecing thoughts and decisions together, struggling to complete a puzzle missing an essential piece.

My parents’ presence not only comforted me, but their clearer minds filled in some of the gaps in my thinking. And so, some ten days after Ray’s passing, at my dad’s urging, we made our way to the Social Security office. I recorded the following in my journal:

“Gathered things to take to meeting with Social Security after I took Mary and Jessie to school – marriage license, passports, M&J’s birth certificates – happy bits of my life, now gathered for a very unhappy purpose.”

Nonetheless, thankfulness and relief washed over me when I heard my minor daughters qualified to receive monthly benefits, based on their dad’s earnings, until their 18th birthdays. I received a small, one-time widow’s stipend along with the news that I would be eligible to collect Ray’s benefits when I reached age 60, at least if I hadn’t remarried by then. Remarrying seemed highly improbable. Like a swan, I felt I mated once, for life. Regardless, my 60th birthday loomed 22 years in the future, a distant speck on a 21st-century calendar, so I filed that bit of information in the far reaches of my mind.

I dedicated myself to raising my daughters, completed a 30-year career at a large corporation, returned to school to study horticulture, and became “Grammie” to three precious little ones. All the while, the calendar pages kept turning with increasing velocity until that distant speck became an entry on my planner, “me – 60!!” Once again, I gathered important documents and went to the Social Security office. Thoughts of the former trip accompanied me, as did so many similar emotions, which became barely-contained tears as I resolutely recounted my story to the kind agent who entered my claim.

Several months later, the first deposit appeared on the designated date, eliciting the tears mentioned above. Ray’s benefits, based on his years of diligent work, were credited to my account. I had done nothing to earn them other than being his widow and believing that the benefits would be there as promised.

Each year, as the April 19th anniversary of Ray’s death approaches, I intentionally think back to my last week with him and my first one without him. My annual remembrance occurs in the same season as Holy Week, another time of intentional remembrance, though the exact dates of the latter change from year to year. From Palm Sunday to Good Friday, I recall the events of each day of Jesus’ final week, all He endured to save me, a destitute sinner with no hope of saving up any treasure worthy of entering the Father’s presence.

And then comes Resurrection Sunday! What joy and gratitude fill my heart, knowing Jesus’ sacrifice paid my debt and credited His perfect righteousness to my account, an account that now overflows with eternal blessings.

Indeed, Jesus’ sinless life, atoning death, and subsequent resurrection guarantee numerous benefits for those who belong to Him. Consider, for example:

  • Peace with God – Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ (Romans 5:1). (See also Luke 2:14; Romans 15:13)
  • Forgiveness – To him all the prophets bear witness that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name (Acts 10:43). (See also Ephesians 1:7; Colossians 1:13-14)
  • God’s abiding presence now – And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age  (Matthew 28:20b). (See also Deuteronomy 31:8)
  • and forever – Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God (Revelation 21:1-3).
  • An eternal home – In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also (John 14:2-3).
  • An imperishable body – Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality (1 Corinthians 15:51-53. (See 1 Corinthians 15:35-58 for the full description of the change we can look forward to.)
  • An eternal inheritance – Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time (1 Peter 1:3-5).

I’m grateful to receive Ray’s Social Security payments. They connect me to him and remind me of his love and care while he was with me. But each month, when I see that deposit on my statement, it also reminds me of the One who is my ultimate and eternal Provider, the Giver of all good gifts (James 1:17), who didn’t spare His only Son, but gave Him up for us all (Romans 8:32) to secure death benefits of the most enduring kind.

The Light

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.
John 1:5

I’m tired. And a bit grumpy. The same thing happens every year when I lose an hour of sleep as we spring forward to Daylight Savings Time. I get out of sorts just thinking about it. But then, when evening of the shortened day descends, and it’s still light after dinner, I remember the benefits of those extra hours of light at the end of the day, including more time to work in my garden and go for walks.

I’ve shared a number of times on these pages that one of the things I like best about living in Georgia is the early arrival of spring and the long bloom season. Granted, the weather usually teases us with a few stretches of warm days followed by a return to near-freezing conditions before the last official frost date, sometimes with dire consequences for the plants that thought spring had arrived to stay.

But not so with the light. After the winter solstice, daylight gradually increases until the summer solstice, when it begins to decline again. My aunt used to give Mom an almanac calendar that noted the daily amount of daylight to the minute. By the end of December each year, Mom would happily report, “The days are getting longer!”

All this thinking about light led me to ponder THE Light.

In one of His discourses with the Pharisees, Jesus declared, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12)

The Apostle Paul affirmed our status in his letter to the Colossians: (The Father) has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son,  in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins (Colossians 1:13-14).

Peter also mentioned darkness and light as he described our incredible identity in Christ: But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy (1 Peter 2:9-10).

However, we must not overlook the fact that ushering us into the kingdom of light plunged Jesus into the depths of darkness as He took our sins upon Himself and endured the wrath of God on our behalf, thus removing the barrier between us and the Father:

And when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” . . . And Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom (Mark 15:33-34, 37-38).

The lyrics of a song we sing at church depict the painful separation of Father and Son. The words often bring me to tears as I contemplate the darkness Jesus endured for us:

How deep the Father’s love for us,
How vast beyond all measure,
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure.
How great the pain of searing loss –
The Father turns His face away,
As wounds which mar the Chosen One
Bring many sons to glory.[1]

Even though Jesus secured victory over death by His sacrifice on the cross, this world is still marred by sin and brokenness. There are times when we experience darkness, collectively as the Body of Christ and individually – illness, disappointments, broken hearts, and dashed dreams. But, the darkness will never overcome the Light. And, as His representatives, we’re to shine brightly, glorifying God and pointing others to the hope we have in Jesus.

In His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus declared as much:

“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” Matthew 5:14-16

Just as Mom used to get excited about the incremental minutes of daylight, we can rejoice in knowing we’re getting ever closer to Jesus’ promised return. The day is coming when darkness will be defeated once and for all, overcome by the brilliance of the spotless Lamb, surrounded by His followers arrayed in radiant robes of righteousness that have been washed in His blood:

And I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb. By its light will the nations walk, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it, and its gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there. They will bring into it the glory and the honor of the nations. But nothing unclean will ever enter it, nor anyone who does what is detestable or false, but only those who are written in the Lamb’s book of life (Revelation 21:22-27).

Dear readers, I hope my musings and, more importantly, the passages of Scripture I’ve included in this post will give you some things to consider as we look forward to celebrating Easter later this month. How blessed we are that God loved us so much that He sent His Son to die for us so that we might be welcomed into the kingdom of Light forever!

[1] “How Deep the Father’s Love”, Stuart Townend, 1995
Photo courtesy of Google Images.

The Sad Relief

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.
Deuteronomy 31:8

Holiday Blues

For most of my life, I looked forward to the final six weeks of the year, full of holiday cheer, beginning with Mom’s November birthday, followed by Thanksgiving, my mid-December birthday, Christmas, and New Year’s, with long-standing traditions associated with each. Granddaughter Lyla arrived the day after my birthday in 2013, multiplying the joy by becoming my birthday buddy.

But several years ago, my anticipation of the end-of-the-year celebrations began to wane as Mom’s health declined, and she couldn’t fully enjoy the season as she had in the past. Then 2020 rolled around, and, like many other families, COVID-19 derailed our Christmas traditions.

Little did we know it would be our last Christmas with Mom.

December 2021 found me going through the motions. Not only was it my first Christmas without my beloved mother, but my strong father had suffered a stroke six months after her passing. Though the physical effects were minor, the stroke impacted Dad’s cognitive abilities, leaving him incapable of handling his finances or medications, making it impossible to live on his own. Though we found a live-in caregiver for him, Dad grew tired of having someone in his space all the time. Thus, December found us looking at assisted living options, planning to move him in January.

I was equally despondent as the holidays approached in 2022. If it had been possible to fast forward to mid-January 2023, I would have done so. Dad contracted Covid at the end of October. His health was so fragile I thought it likely I would be planning a funeral before the end of the year. But he rallied and was able to celebrate Christmas, New Year’s, and his 92nd birthday before suffering another stroke in May of 2023 and gradually declining until passing away peacefully on July 12.

Grieving with Hope

After four years, holiday joy finally returned to my heart last December. That may sound strange considering it was my first without either of my parents. I’ve pondered that myself and have frequently returned to a phrase one of my friends used when she replied to my text informing her of Dad’s passing:  “I’m so sorry. Now begins the sad relief.”

The sad relief – an apt description of the blend of sorrow and joy known to Christians because we’re able to grieve with hope (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18). Though I miss Mom and Dad, there’s great comfort in knowing they’re together in the presence of Jesus, far beyond the reach of earthly pain and distress.

After three years of intense caregiving, first for Mom and then Dad, another type of relief joined that of knowing they’re better than they’ve ever been – the relief from stress related to not knowing what any given day would bring, having to make so many difficult decisions, and, as an only child, feeling the heavy weight of responsibility. Only now, after several months of no longer experiencing the daily tension, do  I realize the load I carried, one always tinged with guilt and doubt. Was I making the right decisions? Should I be doing more? Ultimately, I knew that no matter how hard I tried, I was helpless to stop the relentless march of aging or prevent the inevitable conclusion.

Faithful God

But looking back, I also have a much clearer view of how God went before us every step of the way.

Mom’s agony was intense but relatively brief. God directed and redirected throughout the ten-day interval between the moment she fell and broke her hip and the one in which she drew her final breath. We intended to bring her home and endeavored to do so, but the Lord had plans to call her Home.

Though the stroke Dad experienced six months after Mom died wasn’t as catastrophic as her broken hip, it initiated a decline that lasted 18 months before he joined her in Glory. When he came home from the hospital, we secured a male, live-in Christian caregiver for him. I’ve got to believe that’s a rare combination of traits! When Dad grew tired of that arrangement, we found a cozy apartment in a lovely assisted living community two miles from my daughter, son-in-law, and grandchildren.

Then came the day when Dad’s primary care physician recommended we transition to palliative care. The assumption underlying her suggestion wasn’t lost on me. We were running out of options to make Dad “well.” It was time to focus on making him comfortable instead. And, when we needed to take the next step and enlist hospice care, who would turn out to be his primary nurses but two women who’d overseen his care after his seizure some months before. In the interim, they’d started working for the hospice provider. Coincidence? I think not!

There are other examples of God’s provision and presence during Dad’s final months, but I’ll let these suffice.

Never Alone

There were times when I felt so alone in my seat on the emotional roller coaster associated with Dad’s ever-changing status, from declines to rallies and back again. Yet I was never alone. The One who promised never to leave or forsake me was there for every up and down, every daunting diagnosis and surprising recovery, not only knowing but also ordaining the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:9-10).

The sadness of no longer having Mom and Dad to share things with, celebrate with, or reminisce with will stay with me for the rest of my life. But there’s the joy of cherishing memories of times past, carrying on favorite family traditions with my grandchildren, and mentioning Mama and Papop often so the youngest generation doesn’t forget their great-grandparents.

Ultimately, the greatest joy comes from the realization that God accomplished what I could not – relieve their pain and suffering – and He did it for eternity.

Epilog

Several days ago, I opened my journaling Bible to a section of Psalms I hadn’t read for a while, at least not in that particular Bible. I did a double-take when I saw what I’d written next to Psalm 40:17 two days before Mom broke her hip: “My prayer for Mom tonight, Lord. Please don’t delay in helping her or delivering her from the pain she’s been experiencing.” At the very moment I was writing that prayer, He had already determined how He would answer. Twelve days later, the Lord delivered Mom entirely and eternally from her pain.

Watching Mom and Dad decline gave me a glimpse of what my future might look like as I continue my journey Home. It also provided ample evidence of God’s faithfulness. It saddens me to think of possibly losing the capability to care for myself, yet there is relief in knowing God’s grace will be sufficient for my caregivers and me, just as it was for Mom and Dad and theirs – all the way to the end (2 Corinthians 12:9; Hebrews 10:23).  

New Year’s Resolution

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.
2 Corinthians 5:17

Making New Year’s resolutions is a tradition for many of us. Something about opening up a new planner full of blank pages waiting to be filled in or turning the calendar to January 1 inspires us to make changes in ourselves. Sadly, despite our best intentions, breaking those resolutions is about as common as making them in the first place.

But what if we were to resolve to do something that we knew for sure we’d accomplish? There is something, but we can’t do it on our own.

When we endeavor to become more like Christ, we can be certain of accomplishing our goal because it’s God’s will for us, and the process is all of Him. Reflect on these assurances:

  • God chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him (Ephesians 1:4).
  • Those (God) foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of His Son so that he might be the firstborn among many brothers (Romans 8:29).
  • We are being transformed into his image from one degree of glory to another (2 Corinthians 3:18) by the power at work within us, the same power that rose Jesus from the grave (Ephesians 1:19-20).
  • For it is [not your strength, but it is] God who is effectively at work in you, both to will and to work [that is, strengthening, energizing, and creating in you the longing and the ability to fulfill your purpose] for His good pleasure (Philippians 2:13, AMP).
  • Ask anything according to His will, and He’ll do it for us (1 John 5:14-15).

Isn’t that encouraging?

When we think of resolution, most of us think of the primary definition: a firm decision to do or not to do something.

But if you keep reading through the list of definitions, you’ll come to this one: the degree of detail visible in a photographic or television image. That description reminds me of a statement made by my spiritual mother, Susan Hunt, “We become what we behold.” The more we look into God’s word – living, active, sharper than a two-edged sword –  the more precise our picture of His character, His promises, and His will for our lives becomes (Hebrews 4:12).

Let’s consider again the initial verse from 2 Corinthians 5, continuing to the end of the chapter: Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God (1 Corinthians 5:17-21).

Our pastor often reminds us that we are Christ’s ambassadors as we live in the now-and-not-yet, in between Jesus’ first coming, when He ushered in God’s new kingdom, and His second, when that kingdom will be fully consummated. We’re already counted righteous in Christ, seated in the heavenly places with Him (Ephesians 2:5-7), but we still struggle with sin (Romans 7:19-20). However, given our new nature and our new citizenship, we’re to embrace, embody, and extend to others the goodness and grace we’ve experienced because of God’s work in our lives, being salt and light (Matthew 5:13-16).

Later this year, I’ll celebrate the 50th anniversary of my baptism and public profession of faith. In those five decades, the Spirit has done a mighty work – chiseling, sanding, polishing – making me more into the image of Jesus. I’m not the same person I was then, and by His grace, I won’t be the same person I am now when I turn the calendar to January 2025. The same can be said for all God’s children, be they baby saints just beginning their journey with Him or seasoned saints drawing ever closer to Home.

Our transformation won’t be complete until Jesus returns, but we can be confident that He who began a good work in us will see it through to completion (Philippians 1:6). Then, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, we will be changed (1 Corinthians 15:52-53)!

For now, may we heed  God’s charge and resolve to be kingdom representatives, endeavoring to live up to what we’re already counted to be in Christ, knowing we’re not laboring alone or in our own strength.

Overwhelmed (Revisited)

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places.
Ephesians 1:3

This post is based on an article I wrote for the November/December 2021 edition of our church’s women’s ministry newsletter. I remembered it several nights ago as I was lying awake in the wee hours thinking about all the Christmas-related things I hoped to get done. I decided it was time to revisit what I’d written, to refocus on eternal truths that will remain the same regardless of what I accomplish this holiday season. I thought some of you might need to be reminded, too, so I hope you’ll enjoy this recounting.

Perspective

What came to your mind when you read the title of this post? Was your initial reaction positive or negative? Usually, when I say I’m overwhelmed, I’ve reached the point of waking up in the middle of the night, wondering how I’ll ever get everything done.

A quick check of Merriam-Webster online  yields results that support the negative connotations of the verb:

1: to upset, overthrow

2a: to cover over completely: submerge b: to overcome by superior force or numbers c: to overpower in thought or feeling

However,  inspired by our pastor’s sermon series on Ephesians, I’ve recently been pondering a more positive take on the word. In Ephesians 1:3-14, the Apostle Paul gushes over God’s blessings in Christ:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, even as he chose us in him before the foundation of the world, that we should be holy and blameless before him. In love he predestined us for adoption to himself as sons through Jesus Christ, according to the purpose of his will, to the praise of his glorious grace, with which he has blessed us in the Beloved. In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight making known to us the mystery of his will, according to his purpose, which he set forth in Christ as a plan for the fullness of time, to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.

In him we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to the purpose of him who works all things according to the counsel of his will, so that we who were the first to hope in Christ might be to the praise of his glory. In him you also, when you heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and believed in him, were sealed with the promised Holy Spirit, who is the guarantee of our inheritance until we acquire possession of it, to the praise of his glory.

I’ve read that passage many times, but the idea of Paul gushing over God’s goodness is new to me. Yet that’s precisely what he’s doing! I imagine him exalting God, nearly breathless, as he recounts all our blessings in Jesus. Pastor David has encouraged us to do likewise and allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by God’s goodness toward us.

The Holiday Hustle

As the holiday season ramps up, so does my sense of overwhelmedness. When I contemplate adding cherished holiday traditions to my already bulging to-do list, restless nights are sure to follow. But this year, heartened by Pastor David’s invitation to embrace and embody our identity in Christ, I hope to approach the season differently. Rather than letting my to-do list have the final say, I pray I’ll be overwhelmed instead by all the blessings that are ours because God chose to send us the best gift ever – His only begotten Son.

A Positive Practice

Several days after I submitted the newsletter article, my 90-year-old father had a stroke. I’d been preparing to do battle with my usual holiday stresses when a barrage of new responsibilities hit. In those early days of trying to ensure I procured the proper care for Dad and managing day-to-day logistics once he returned home, I was tempted to ignore the holidays altogether. Over and over again, I thought, “I feel so overwhelmed.” And each time I did, the words I’d written came back to me, and I reminded myself of all the blessings that are mine in Christ.

After several weeks of this practice, the sequence has become instinctive. I sense the stress starting to build, sometimes multiple times a day. “How will I ever handle this?” runs through my mind, quickly followed by, “I feel so overwhelmed!” The once-negative word triggers the new, positive response, shifting my focus to the realities greater than my circumstances. I have all I’ll ever need in Christ, plus the promise He’ll never leave or forsake me:

He has said, “I will never [under any circumstances] desert you [nor give you up nor leave you without support, nor will I in any degree leave you helpless], nor will I forsake or let you down or relax My hold on you [assuredly not]!” (Hebrews 13:5, Amplified)

An Invitation

Will you join me? Pick one or more of Paul’s affirmations to meditate on the next time you feel weighed down by cares or responsibilities: In Christ, we are blessed, chosen, blameless, adopted into God’s family, redeemed, forgiven, sealed with the Holy Spirit, destined to receive the inheritance held secure for us in heaven. Just reading this makes my heart sing!

Take another look at the last definition above, “to overpower in thought or feeling.” When the truth of Who God is and all He’s done for us in Christ overpowers our worries, fears, and anxieties, it is a most blessed conquest indeed.

Dear Lord, as we shift our gaze from the immediate to the eternal, I pray our thoughts and feelings will be overwhelmed in the most positive way by Your amazing grace and all You’ve blessed us with in Christ, to the praise of Your glory.

Chief Cheerleader

/ Patsy Kuipers / 6 Comments

If God is for us, who can be against us?
Romans 8:31b

My daughters run. Mary, my eldest, began cross country in 8th grade, while Jessie, my youngest, ran the middle distances. They’ve remained diligent in their running endeavors. Mary has completed three marathons and several half-marathons. Jessie, too, has completed several halfs. Both have competed in countless 5ks, 10ks, and 10-milers.

My granddaughters, 9-year-old Lyla and 7-year-old Emma, have taken after their mom and Aunt Jessie. Starting with tot trots and moving up to 1-mile fun runs, they’ve now completed several 5ks. That’s a long way for little bodies and relatively short legs, but they’ve made it.

I don’t run. Running didn’t agree with me when I was in my early 20s, and it sure doesn’t agree with me forty years later. I suppose I could run if something were chasing me, but I prefer walking. However, this lack of enthusiasm didn’t deter me from attending my daughters’ races as often as possible. I took my role of head cheerleader seriously and still do.

A nearby town hosts a series of 5k races each year. Once a month during race season, I take up my post on my cheering corner to exhort my runners on to the finish line.

The town where Mary and her family live hosts an annual Turkey Chase. This year marked my second time at this particular race, so I’m not as familiar with where to stand to best encourage my runners. Nonetheless,  I positioned myself at what I hoped would be a promising location and waited for my people to appear.

Jessie was the first to come into view. I cheered her on, took a couple of photos, and turned my attention back to the hill as she rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight. Lyla was next to appear. She was walking as she crested the hill, but as soon as she heard my, “Go, Lyla, finish strong! You can do it!!” she took off with a burst of energy I couldn’t have mustered at the start, much less the end of the race.

I expected to see Mary and Emma close behind. Minutes passed. I peered as far as I could down the course, anxiously scanning each group of runners. But still no Mary and her happy little sidekick. Finally, fearing I’d somehow missed them in the throng of runners, I turned to “Find My Friends” to check for Mary’s dot. I hadn’t overlooked them. They were still out there. More minutes ticked by, and I moved further down the sidewalk so I could see them as soon as they turned the corner and started up the big hill.

Finally, they came into view, moseying along. I had no doubt Emma’s legs were tired, and mama bear Mary was sticking with her cub. I mustered my loudest voice and yelled, “Go, Mary! Come on, Emma!!”

Like a shot of adrenaline, my words had the desired effect. No more strolling for Emma! She was running at top speed and flashed a big smile my way as she barreled by, shouting, “Hey, Grammster!”

Likewise, Mary upped her pace, and they dashed to the finish line where the rest of their adoring fans (Jessie, Lyla, son-in-law Justin, and grandson Joshua) were waiting to welcome them. Even from a block away, I could hear Jessie yell, “That’s my sister!” when Mary crossed the finish line, arms raised in victory.

We all need cheerleaders, don’t we? Those people who’ll believe in us no matter what and encourage us to keep going. My husband Ray and my mom were those people for me. Death silenced Ray’s voice 26 years ago and took Mom from me almost three. Yet, after benefitting from Ray’s encouragement for 16 years and Mom’s for six decades, I still feel their love and am sustained by their belief in me.

I don’t consider it a stretch to think they’re still cheering me on. After all, Scripture says we’re surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, faithful saints who’ve followed Jesus’ example and shown us how to run well (Hebrews 12:1-2).

The introductory verse above begins one of my favorite passages:

If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? . . . No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:31b-35; 37-39).

Not only is God our biggest cheerleader, He’s ensured we have everything we need to finish our race. Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, is seated at the right hand of God, interceding for us! We will be victorious because Jesus ran the perfect race and secured the victory with His precious blood. No trial or hardship or calamity, nothing, not even death, can separate us from His love. In fact, death is merely the portal through which we pass to eternity in His presence with our loved ones.

Dear readers, I pray you have at least one person standing staunchly on your cheering corner. Equally important, who might need your encouragement? Is there someone in your circle whose trot has turned into a trudge? Maybe your voice is the very one they need to hear cheering them on.

Epilogue

Several months ago, it became apparent that my dad’s earthly life was drawing to a close. I assured him he was almost Home and that Mom would be there to greet him. As we waited for the undertaker to arrive in the wee hours of July 12th, Dad’s hospice nurse asked, “Did he tell you he’s been seeing your mom?”

“No, but I’m not surprised. I told Dad she’d be waiting for him.”

Jen replied, “When I was with him the other day, he asked me if I saw Thelma. I said, ‘No, John, it’s just us,’ but he assured me she was there.”

I’m equally confident that Mom, Dad, Ray, and a bevy of other relatives and friends will be waiting as I near the finish line, elated and exuberant, ready to welcome me Home. As I run into Jesus’ arms, I hope to hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant!” And, after hearing Jessie’s proud pronouncement over Mary, I can imagine Him adding, “That’s my sister!” affirming my forever place in His family.

Wait for the Lord

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

The Lord is good to those who wait for him, to the soul who seeks him. It is good that one should wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.
Lamentations 3:25-26

Cereal Shortage

Inflation has caused prices of all kinds of goods to skyrocket in the past year. (Stick with me. I promise this isn’t a political commentary!) I’ve been particularly appalled as I’ve watched the price of my favorite cereal creep toward, then gallop past, the $6 mark. Years ago, when the price hovered around $4 per box, I began waiting for BOGO (buy-one-get-one-free) sales and then stocking up in hopes of having enough to last until the next one.

Such was my plan earlier this summer when Publix featured my cereal in their sale circular. Although I had several boxes in my pantry, I decided to add a few more to cushion my reserves. I expectantly approached the shelf where the cereal usually resides, only to find it empty with an “Our Apologies” note posted on the edge. I made a couple more stops when I passed the store during the sale, but the shelf was empty each time. As the sale drew to a close, I requested a rain check, explaining that I’d stopped multiple times only to find the bare shelf and note of apology.

Armed with my rain check, I stopped by repeatedly over the next few weeks, hoping to find the cereal. A month passed and my rain check expired – still no sign of the cereal. I decided to check Amazon. I located my cereal. Hooray! But wait! $42 for two boxes?? Was I reading it wrong? Were these extra-large boxes? A whole case? I reread the description. Nope! Some enterprising person was trying to sell two boxes of cereal for  $42!

That’s when it finally occurred to me – there must be a shortage. A quick google confirmed my suspicion. Something had disrupted the production, but a note from the manufacturer promised distribution would return to normal by October.

I checked my inventory, did a quick calculation, and smiled. If the manufacturer stuck to their schedule, my cereal would be available before my stockpile ran out.

Watching and Wavering

Week after week passed. I kept checking for the cereal. Each time, the bare shelf and “Sorry” note greeted me. Meanwhile, my supply was dwindling, but I remained confident, remembering that God cares about the details of our lives, knew exactly when my stash would run out, and was fully capable of providing the cereal “just in time.”

And then, the day arrived when I opened the last box from my pantry. I stopped by the store and checked the shelf – empty. Even though I remained confident God would come through, I purchased another brand of cereal so I would have something to eat for breakfast in case He didn’t.

A few days later, I went back to the store. As I approached the shelf, I could see the persistent gap, but the “Our Apologies” sign was gone, and there, at the back of the shelf, were several boxes of my favorite cereal. The corners of my mouth lifted in a grin of validation. See! I knew I wouldn’t run out!

So why didn’t I remain firm and act on that belief? Good question. I suppose I wanted to “be sure,” as if God’s steadfast love and provision aren’t among the most certain things in my life!

Helping God

I have so many examples, big and small, of God’s faithfulness to look back on, including little touches like this that remind me He cares about the things we care about. He’s a good Father who delights in giving His children good gifts (Matthew 7:11; James 1:7), yet sometimes I get impatient and decide to “help.”

I only have to look at the Bible to realize I’m not alone. Remember how Sarah took things into her own hands to ensure Abraham would have an heir? Instead of waiting on God to fulfill His promise and never imagining she might be the one to bear her husband a son given her advanced age, she offered her maidservant, Hagar, to Abraham. That liaison resulted in the birth of a son, but not the one God had promised, and much hostility and heartache resulted from Sarah’s actions (See Genesis 15-17, 21:1-21).

And how about Rebekah? When she became pregnant with twin sons, God told her the older would serve the younger. Esau, born seconds before his brother, was their father Isaac’s favorite, while Rebekah preferred Jacob. She, too, decided to help God and concocted an elaborate ruse to secure Isaac’s blessing for Jacob. Though her favorite obtained the coveted blessing, the process led to much animosity, just like Sarah’s had a generation before (See Genesis 25:19-34; Genesis 27).

Perfect Plans

We can count on God’s promises. We can trust that His plan is good and perfect, as is His timing (Isaiah 55:8-9). He doesn’t need us to implement our own solutions, no matter how well-intentioned. He wants us to trust, obey, and wait.

There have been times when I’ve been forced to wait, times when my manipulation of circumstances didn’t yield the hoped-for results, or sometimes, no result at all except for frustration on my part. Yet, because God didn’t bless my maneuverings, I have examples of the superiority of His plans and purposes that assure me I can trust Him for something better.

I don’t know what you might be waiting for, dear reader, but I invite you to join me in quiet anticipation of God delivering on all His promises, knowing He is sovereign over every detail of our lives.

As for the substitute cereal I bought? For now, it can stay in my pantry, a simple reminder of a profound truth.

Legacy and Longing

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

Dear readers, the events of the past few years as I walked with Mom and Dad on their Homeward journeys have filled my mind and heart with myriad images and emotions, plenty to ponder, process, and write about in the coming weeks. But today, the brain fog of grief is still with me, and those images and emotions are jumbled together, so I’m rerunning one of my favorite posts with a brief intro.

Last Wednesday, we laid Dad to rest in the little country cemetery where Mom, my husband Ray, and many other cherished relatives are already interred. Until Mom’s funeral two years ago, the peaceful place was an abstract idea for my grandchildren, “where Grandpa Kuipers is buried.” But now they’ve sat in the same wooden pews where several generations of Phillips relatives sat and have seen the Sunday school classroom where I heard Bible stories before joining adults for worship when I visited as a child. They’ve seen the grave markers and felt the tranquility that permeates the very breeze that gently ruffles the leaves of decades-old trees that tower above them.

They’ve also walked the aisles of the general store just down the street from the little church, the same aisles I trod with my beloved grandfather six decades ago. I wrote “Eating Apples” in loving memory of him. I’m not sure if he was the first believer in his family or if our Christian legacy began even further back. Regardless, his faith and faithfulness formed a significant link in my heritage, one that is now shaping a fourth generation.

With the passing of each loved one, the hope of heaven becomes increasingly precious. Just as there is a spot between Mom and Ray waiting to receive my earthly remains, I know Jesus is preparing a place where I will dwell with Him forever. Until then, I pray He will help me to be faithful in sharing His goodness and grace with those He places in my path.

And now, let me introduce you to PaPa, my beloved grandfather.

Eating Apples – encore

So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
1 Corinthians 13:13

Cherished Memories

I don’t have many distinct memories of my grandfather since I was in first grade when he passed away. However, I cherish the recollections I do have. Details provided by my mom as she spoke lovingly of her father over the years complete my mental portrait of this kind and gentle man. 

Born July 31, 1890, James Alton Phillips was a short fellow, about 5’ 3”, who weighed 125 pounds, give or take a few. Genetics undoubtedly played a part in his slight build, but a lifetime of hard work farming his land also contributed to his compact physique. My mom was the baby of her family, the youngest of eight siblings, and her father’s darling. He called her “Babe” and warmed her clothes by the fire before she went to school on cold mornings.

Occasionally my grandmother, sterner in her demeanor, would delegate the task of disciplining a wayward child to my grandfather. He would take the offending party outside beyond her view and tell the child to cry out while he used the switch on some inanimate object instead of their legs.

As for me, I recall walking hand in hand with him to the small general store, stopping by the post office to check Box 73 for mail, and waiting for the train to come by so we could wave to the conductor and count the cars. But my favorite activity was eating apples with him. “PaPa,” as I called him, would sit me on his lap, producing an apple in one hand and a small knife in the other. He’d cut a slice for me, then a slice for himself. Back and forth the ritual would continue until we finished the tasty fruit. For as long as I can remember, I’ve eaten an apple almost every day. And when I do, I always think of my grandfather.

A Godly Man

“Mr. Jim,” as the people around town knew him, was a man of faith, a deacon in the tiny country church where he worshiped. He embodied the fruits of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). When he suffered a heart attack a few months before he died, the doctor told him he had to limit his physical activities. The doctor’s order was like a death sentence for a man who loved his garden and was used to being outside. He’d sit in the kitchen of the home he shared with my grandmother, his wife of 55 years, turn his gaze toward the little church, and comment he’d rather be in the cemetery than just sitting around.

Nearly 58 years ago, on October 25, 1965, God called PaPa Home. He had gone outside to check on some work a neighbor was doing for him, work he would much rather have done himself. In a fitting end to his earthly life, he died in his garden. I can still hear my mother’s anguished cry, “No, not Daddy!,” when she received the phone call telling her of his passing.

Abiding Love

Although our relationship was brief in terms of time, and nearly six decades have passed since we last shared an apple, PaPa’s love impacts me to this day. Years after his death, the large corporation I worked for sent me to a training course, one of many I attended during my career. But that one, a self-awareness workshop, was different. A team of psychologists facilitated it, and it was intense. One of our first exercises involved closing our eyes and imagining a safe place. I immediately envisioned myself in my grandfather’s lap, sharing an apple with him. The physical nourishment we’d partaken of paled compared to the bonds of unconditional love and acceptance formed during our time together.

Today I’m privileged to be “Grammie” to three precious grandchildren. Sharing snacks, especially apples, is one of my favorite things to do with them. It connects me to them and them to my grandfather, who they’ve come to know by my loving accounts of my short yet precious time with him.

A Promised Reunion

I don’t get to visit the small graveyard where my grandparents and many other maternal relatives are laid to rest as often as I’d like. My husband Ray is buried there, too, near my sister, Mary Jeannette, who died in infancy. Last spring, Mom took her place between them, leaving a space for me.

When I worked, my job frequently took me to that area of North Carolina, and I’d visit the cemetery as often as possible. I would gaze at the tombstones, each representing someone I love and long to see again, pondering how glorious it will be when we all rise to new life, a life that will never end (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18). For the love we share now is but a shadow of the Love that awaits when the Everlasting Arms reach out to embrace us and welcome us Home (1 Corinthians 13:4-13).

Until then, I’ll remain thankful for little rituals and rock-solid faith, lovingly shared, that can reach across the decades, blessing one generation after another.

O Lord, how great are the gifts of familial love and a heritage of faith! Please help us to be resolute in telling those coming along behind us about Your great love and faithfulness so that they, too, may know the joy and peace of belonging to Your family.

Through the Valley

/ Patsy Kuipers / 10 Comments

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.
Psalm 23:4

“He’s gone.” My throat, tight with tears, barely allowed me to utter the words when I called Dad’s hospice nurse shortly after 3:30 AM Wednesday.

The rollercoaster Dad and I had been riding for the past couple of months, enduring the ups and downs and twists and turns of his precarious health, had come to a gentle stop.[1] Dad disembarked and passed peacefully into the presence of Jesus, leaving me to sob alone on the platform.

Yet even in that dark moment, I knew I wasn’t truly alone. God was counting each tear, assuring me that Dad was better than he’d ever been. And I felt the prayers of friends and relatives, a mighty fortress built petition by petition in the days and hours leading up to Dad’s Homegoing.

When we heard of some tragedy or other, my late husband, Ray, and I often said, “How do people get through (fill in the blank) without faith in God?”

Ray passed away suddenly from a heart attack a few weeks after his 39th birthday. In the intervening years, 26 of them, I’ve endured other life-changing losses, including the elimination of my job after a 30-year career, watching my elderly parents’ health decline, losing Mom two years ago, and now Dad. These and other less significant losses have led me to affirm repeatedly what Ray and I used to say to each other. Without God, I would never have made it through these events and their aftermath, nor will I make it through future hardships.

But I won’t have to.

I’m not fond of the aging process or the accompanying aches, pains, and infirmities, but one thing I do like about increasing years is that I have more and more examples of God’s goodness and faithfulness to file away in my spiritual memory bank. Several passages in addition to the one above from Psalm 23 have become foundational for me, providing comfort when the path before me is grueling or uncertain:

  • The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. (Lamentations 3:22-23)
  • It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. (Deuteronomy 31:8)
  • But (God) said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. (2 Corinthians 12:9)

I know challenges lie before me as we plan and have Dad’s funeral, find homes for his belongings, and settle his estate. I fully expect to be riding an emotional rollercoaster for a while, though I doubt the climbs and drops will be as steep as they have been. Even though I will grieve, I will do so with hope, knowing Dad’s faith has become sight and he and Mom are back together, beyond the reach of earthly pains and heartaches.

And I will cling to the promises in the passages above, promises that have withstood the assault of previous trials and misfortunes.

Dear readers, I expect many of you are dealing with your own tribulations. Please remember, we’re never alone, no matter how dark the valley we or our loved ones are walking through. We have the tender care of our ever-present Father. He’s never forsaken us, and He never will. That is our hope and assurance as we traverse the vale of tears.

[1] If you would like to read “The Rollercoaster,” you can find it in Archives, June 2023.

The Rollercoaster

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand. John 10:28-29

A Terrifying Ride

I was in elementary school when Mom, Dad, and I went to Myrtle Beach for the first of many family beach vacations. One evening we ventured to the amusement park, home of the Swamp Fox, a towering wooden roller coaster. I must have been eight or nine at the time, totally unaware of how it felt to ride such a thing, so when Dad suggested Mom and I get in the front seat, I went for it. Being first is a big deal when you’re a kid, plus I would have a great view of the park, right?

My dad’s mischievous grin should have given me a hint regarding what awaited, but Mom and I climbed aboard when the coaster rattled into the station. The first few rises and falls were manageable, lulling me into complacency, but then we began to climb. Clickety-clack, clickety-clack. Higher and higher we went. The Swamp Fox reached the peak and then paused briefly before plummeting at a rate that left me gasping for breath. What little air I had escaped my lungs as uncontrollable screams.

I grasped the slender safety bar inches in front of my lap as if it were the only thing that stood between me and certain death. At my age, I did not understand the forces playing on my body as we hurtled toward Earth. Instead, a firm conviction permeated my being –  surely, if I let go for an instant, my body would catapult out of that seat.

Traumatized and terror-stricken, I vowed I’d never get on another rollercoaster! I kept that promise for ten years until another vacation found us at Busch Gardens Tampa Bay. I stood by one of the coasters, listening to the screams of riders as they sped over and around, up and down. Were they exhilarated or terrified?

Determined not to let rollercoasters get the best of me, I asked Dad to join me for a ride. I can’t say I enjoyed it, and I don’t remember how much or little I screamed, but I had the satisfaction of conquering a long-standing fear. Even so, I didn’t plan to ride one again, ever!

Back on Board

Despite my long-ago proclamation, I’m in the front seat of another rollercoaster, this time an emotional one, as Dad’s declining health becomes increasingly fragile. Highs and lows, twists and turns that mimic those of the iconic rides, have filled the past few weeks.

Dad has been sleeping more and eating less. He spends most of his time in bed, doesn’t talk much, and rarely looks at his newspapers, something he’s always done. But last Tuesday night was a different story. He ate his dinner and sat in his recliner while we visited. When I left, he was reading the comics and watching Sports Center.

What an improvement! I almost skipped to my car. I couldn’t wait to text the good news to my kids.

My heart was still singing a happy song of praise the next day. And then, barely 24 hours after I exited Dad’s apartment, I got a call that he’d fallen. He didn’t have any injuries, but his blood pressure was precariously low. 

I went to check on Dad and await the arrival of the on-call hospice nurse. After he examined him and took his vitals, Chris said, “I’m sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. I’ve seen people rally, but given your dad’s extremely low blood pressure and slow, erratic pulse, I’d say he’s nearing the end.”

I replied stoically, “Considering Dad’s recent decline, I can accept that, especially since he’s pain-free and not in distress. I’ve prayed he won’t experience the same torment Mom did in her final days.”

There would be no skipping to my car that night. Despite my brave words, it took me a long time to go to sleep. When I finally drifted off, I tossed and turned, plagued by troubling dreams.

Dad’s vitals improved over the next three days, and he resumed eating. But this morning, the buzzing of my FitBit jolted me out of a deep sleep. Dad had fallen again. Paramedics with him assured me he hadn’t broken any bones but needed me to confirm his wishes not to go to the hospital. I did so emphatically since I promised Dad several months ago when his hospice care began, that I would do everything possible to keep him out of the hospital.

Secure in the Father’s Grasp

Up and down, back and forth. I have no idea what will happen next. The uncertainty takes a physical as well as emotional toll. Not only did my tracker alert me to the incoming call, but it also captured the effect it and the news I received had on my heart as my pulse rate shot up from a restful 50-some beats per minute to nearly 100!

Though there are times when I feel like screaming, tears have become my emotional safety valve. Sometimes, I’ll sniffle intermittently throughout most of the day. I’m losing my dad bit by bit, and, to borrow a phrase one of my daughters used when Mom was slipping away, my heart is breaking in slow motion.

Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, clickety-clack. How high will the car climb? How steep will the plunge be, snatching my breath and elevating my heart rate? How many times can you prepare yourself for the worst?

I don’t know the answers to those questions, but nothing surprises God. I’m clinging to the same assurances I held on to when Mom’s earthly life was drawing to a close – God is faithful, His mercies are new every morning, and His grace is sufficient (Lamentations 3:21-24; 2 Corinthians 12:9).

Though there may be times when I feel like I’m free-falling, I know God is holding Dad and me safely in His grasp. His grip is more secure than any safety harness on any ride. Eventually, this rollercoaster will come to a stop. Until then, I will pray for wisdom and strength to help Dad as he makes his way Home.

O Lord, I am powerless against this great horde that is coming against Dad. I do not know what to do, but my eyes are fixed on You. Thank You that Your children are never out of Your sight or beyond Your reach.