suffering

An Unkind Savior?! (What Jesus never does to those who need it most)

~ Brian Phillips ~ Leave a comment

“Swear. Reproach Christ and I will set you free,” the proconsul of Smyrna states with authority.

“86 years and He has done me no wrong. How can I blaspheme my King and my Savior?” replies Polycarp, who was not only the bishop of Smyrna a generation after Christ’s crucifixion, but was also close personal friends with John, the author of the Gospel of the same name and the book of Revelation.

“I have wild animals here,” the proconsul continued. “And I will throw you to them if you do not repent.”

“Call them,” Polycarp replied. “It is unthinkable for me to repent from what is good to turn to what is evil. I will be glad, though, to be changed from evil to righteousness.”

“If you despise the animals, I will have you burned.”

“You threaten me with fire which burns for an hour, and is then extinguished, but you know nothing of the fire of the coming judgment and eternal punishment, reserved for the ungodly. Why are you waiting? Bring on whatever you want.”

The crowd rushed around to find sticks and wood to build a fire, the Jews eagerly assisting. When the pile was ready, Polycarp removed his outer clothing and approached.

The guards started to secure him to the wood with nails, and he said, “Leave me as I am, for He that gives me strength to endure the fire, will enable me not to struggle, without the help of your nails.”

After being lightly bound, Polycarp began to pray, “…I give you thanks that you count me worthy to be numbered among your martyrs, sharing the cup of Christ and the resurrection to eternal life, both of soul and body…” and the fire was lit.1*

The early church was well acquainted with suffering. In my current Bible study, we are in the book of Revelation going over the seven letters Jesus was dictating to John for seven different churches, including Polycarp’s wealthy city of Smyrna. Overall, most were going through difficult times as persecution was rampant. I recently finished a book about the Nazis’ use of IBM punch card machines in their highly organized and orchestrated attempt to annihilate the Jews**. The persecution the early Christians were going through definitely smacks of that same type of demoniacal hatred.

In the various letters, Jesus acknowledges the churches’ strengths (if there are any), He brings to light their shortcomings (often explaining what will happen if they aren’t dealt with), He acknowledges their intense persecution and suffering, and finally reminds them of the eternal blessings that He will give to those who are faithful to the end. “Be faithful, even to the point of death, and I will give you life as your victor’s crown,” Jesus tells John to write to the church in Smyrna.

None of these churches were perfect, just as none of ours are today; but some of the hardships they were having to deal with were absolutely horrendous! Yet Jesus’s words to all who were suffering unimaginable horrors were, “to the one who is victorious to the end… I will give the right to sit with me on my throne; he will be dressed in white; I will give authority over the nations.”

As my Bible study questions had me reading and rereading many of these letters, I started imagining what I would say to someone who was suffering that intensely. It was then that I noticed something rather conspicuous missing from the words of Jesus. I thought that surely He just left it out of one letter, so I reread the others, looking for something I definitely thought should be there. If Jesus cared for these people the way I believe He did, it must be, so I continued to read. He left it out of the second…the third…the fourth. How is that possible?! Its absence is so striking I can’t believe I haven’t noticed it before. It almost makes Jesus seem…dare I say it…unkind!

This led me to a search of the rest of scripture. Nothing. It was completely fruitless, and frankly I did not know how to justify it. But I had to. If Jesus is the kind, loving Savior I believe He is, then what He does not say is somehow justified. Throughout all of Scripture, no matter how much people suffer, Jesus…never…apologizes. I had to make sense of this.

When I have a question of this nature, it runs constantly in the back of my mind. Any information that aids in answering that question, in essence goes in that file. The books I read, the conversations I have, personal experiences and daily observations…all are viable sources of data. Some questions like this may remain unanswered for years until I finally reach a point where I think I have enough information to make a decision that I believe is satisfactory. Well, I had just added a new question, and I’m going to take you along on my journey toward answering it.

If I limit myself to what I experience after a question is posed, it’s a painfully slow drip of day-to-day occurrences. So, I could wait until I’ve lived a couple more years, or I could start by examining my previous decades immediately. That’s the direction I decided to initially focus on, attempting to find times in my life that did not play out how I thought they would, adding in the detail that someone had to actually apologize. After a couple weeks of thinking in this direction, I found one! Fortunately it wasn’t in the distant past, as my memory can often distort, rewrite, and forget details. If I had to guess (and I did), it was about three years ago. Please indulge me as I set the stage.

I had driven down to Fayetteville, Arkansas to visit one of my best friends, Charles, for the weekend. He and I have been very close for 25 years, and initially met at Books-A-Million. Back in 2000 I would go there nightly to sit at the coffee shop and work on my studies, and as I was doing some reading for my college classes I overheard a conversation going on behind me. It was three guys about my age, two I knew from college, and the third I did not. This wasn’t your standard conversation, though. They were debating the existence of God.

Eavesdropping on this conversation definitely took precedence over the evening’s homework, so I set my book down and listened intently. It didn’t take me long to ascertain the dynamics of this debate. You would think that two senior college students at a school whose focus is training people for the ministry would have no difficulty establishing a solid basis for something so fundamental to their beliefs. I would think that too. But in this case, we would both be wrong. This mysterious third party was clearly more intelligent than they were, and he had them stumped. But as he finished solidly pinning them to the ground, I realized there was a weakness in his argument.

There was no way I was going to let this interaction end in my friends’ defeat, so I pushed my chair back, stood up, and walked over with a smile.

“Hey, guys!”

They returned the greeting.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but overhear the discussion ya’ll were having. Do you mind if I throw a question into the mix?”

“Go right ahead, Brian,” my friend from OCC who is also named Brian said.

I don’t remember what I asked, but I do remember the look on the stranger’s face as he slightly cocked his head to the right.

“You know,” he said, “I haven’t ever thought about that. Do you mind if I take some time to think that over?”

“Not at all!” I replied, taken aback by a level of intellectual honesty I had rarely witnessed.

A minute or so later, my friends from school departed and I had my first ever conversation with Mr. Charles E. Smith, now one of the closest friends I have ever had the privilege of knowing. We bonded immediately over our love of books, exchanged phone numbers, and within a few months would become roommates (a pretty wild story I will definitely write one day) where we would have countless discussions along the line of the one I just witnessed.

We were two very different people (yelling and throwing a Bible across the room was not a rarity for Mr. Smith), but we were both on the same path. We were just two guys trying to understand what was true and wanting to live the lives we were meant to. We’re still doing that together, but fortunately a couple of years after our initial encounter, I had the privilege of leading him to the Lord. We still talk quite regularly, and I couldn’t be more thankful to have him as a close friend. Now back to Fayetteville.

(See note on picture 2 below.)

Now that you’ve met Charles (I don’t apologize for the aside 😉 ) you can see how we, along with his cousin Marshall, might have stayed up way too late on his patio discussing everything under the sun and enjoying a few brewskies. At some point that evening they informed me that we would be waking up quite early to help Marshall and his dad move a bunch of furniture and such in the morning. “I’d be happy to help…” I said with about as much enthusiasm as you would anticipate.

We woke up way earlier than I was in any condition to and I thanked God for the millionth time that coffee beans were among the countless plants that sprang to life on day three. Perhaps, I thought, He had done so specifically for this day. We began moving boxes and furniture for Marshall’s aunt, loading and unloading two truck beds and a flatbed trailer. Two other details I neglected to mention: 1. It was the middle of summer, so it was nice and hot. 2. We left the house quickly, so we didn’t have time to eat and we were starving! Fortunately, no lives were lost during this most taxing of projects.

We had just finished moving the final pieces of furniture and Marshall went in the house to get us something cold to drink. Charles leans in my direction and starts to speak.

“Hey, B. (He’s called me that for years.) I know you came down here to hang out and have a good time, so I’m sorry you had to endure this. Especially with it being so hot.”

THAT WAS IT!

(See note on picture 3 below.)

When I reached this point in my memory I mentally stopped. I would go on to tell him it was okay and I was glad to help, all of which were true. However, there was still truth to his apology. It was hot, I was exhausted, and this is not the relaxing weekend I had hoped for. Charles’ apology was sincere, it was considerate, and it was thoughtful and kind. It’s the kind of thing people say to those they really care about when they experience something unpleasant. And THAT was where I was stuck.

Whether His followers were being imprisoned, beaten, even burned alive or sawed in two, Jesus never once looks these people He loves in the eyes and tells them, “I’m so sorry you have to go through this.” And the whole time, He knows every horrific detail of what they are going to experience.

What was I going to do with this?!

Some of God’s characteristics like omniscience, omnipotence, omnipresence, are so far removed from who we are that it’s easy to basically think, “Yeah…God can do anything, like Dr. Strange or another superhero.” Yet with the rest of His characteristics, it’s simpler when we can put Him in a human-sized box. “Jesus was kind to people the world wasn’t. Got it. He did a lot of teaching. My wife is a teacher, so I can definitely relate. He really didn’t like hypocrites. Neither do we! Alright! I think I get this Jesus guy!”

But this behavior doesn’t fit in either category. It’s not so “out there” that we can put it in the “Marvel” category, and yet it’s not consistent with something any person would do, unless they were a jerk. But Jesus isn’t a jerk. Jesus is the very incarnation of love. The box I had put Jesus in was bursting at the seams and I had to completely let Him out of it so I could try and understand how to reconcile the two.

Mentally, I went back to my Arkansas moving story to try and come up with a different scenario. What would have to change about this unpleasant day for it to not just be okay for Charles not to apologize, but for it to actually be a good thing and completely justified? The substance of the story, the heat, the moving of heavy things, the early morning after a crazy late night…all of those still had to be there. But something had to change.

“If the hardships are still there, what if something happened at the end that changed the way the hardships were viewed?” I started thinking. It would have to be significant…very significant. It would have to be so significant, in fact, that the conclusion’s effects actually rippled backwards in time. Right then, it clicked.

I started imaging the exact same scenario with a drastically different conclusion. What if, after waking up exhausted, working in the heat, and moving heavy things, Charles and I had a different interaction. What if, instead of apologizing, Charles called me over as his cousin went inside to grab us a drink, and…

“Hey, B. I have a little something for you,” Charles says as he sits on the back end of the flatbed trailer.

I walk over, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the end of my shirt.

He leans to the right and I see him reach down under the trailer and pull out a small briefcase I hadn’t noticed before.

Remaining silent, he slowly brings the briefcase up and sets it in his lap. He places one hand on the left side and the other on the right, just above the two clasps. Then, just before I hear them click open, he says, “I wanted to tell you…well done, B. I really appreciate all that you did today.”

As the briefcase is opening, I first see what looks like a stack of paper. Then, as the hot, Arkansas afternoon sunlight better reveals the contents, I realize that this is no ordinary paper. It’s money. Stacks and stacks of one hundred dollar bills, with each bundle bound by a one inch in diameter piece of paper that says $10,000. Somehow, I intuitively know that there is exactly one million dollars in cash in that briefcase, and every single dollar is mine.

Charles watches as my eyes grow large in disbelief.

Normally we experience shock due to negative events, so my mind was not quite sure what to do with the emotions I was feeling. Seconds later, its impact began rushing backwards in time.

Gone is any thought about the exhausting day.

The energy that was completely depleted surged back into my body.

My perspective on the last 8 hours was completely rewritten.

“The heat? What heat?!”

“The dresser wasn’t THAT heavy!”

“Are you sure there isn’t more to do?!”

“I would have gladly gotten out of bed hours earlier to help!”

Taking a deep breath, my eyes gradually move from the briefcase of money to look at Charles, and his face is beaming. A look of complete joy is staring back at me. As we lock eyes, a single tear forms and runs down my cheek and one final question comes to mind.

“Is that ALL I had to go through to receive THIS?!”

“What no eye has seen,
what no ear has heard,
and what no human mind has conceived,
the things God has prepared for those who love Him.”
1 Corinthians 2:9

If this world were as it should be, we would not constantly be thinking about things that are “wrong” with it. We would just see it as “what is”. And in almost every circumstance, in almost every relationship, we have an idea of what we are longing for, and yet it never quite hits the mark. At best we get glimpses of the ideal, and even just a glimpse is like a salve for our souls. It’s like a cool drink of water after spending hours in the hot sun.

This world is all wrong, and intuitively we know that. And as a result, we are constantly yearning for it to be put right, attempting to bring order to disorder, healing to pain, and even life to death. We do not for a second think this yearning is out of place, but rather are shocked when we see someone who is content observing the second law of thermodynamics work its magic without some attempt to interfere and make life better.

I believe that our unquenchable desire for things to be set right is a hint…a sign…that there is, or rather will be something more to come. As C.S. Lewis writes in Mere Christianity:

“Creatures are not born with desires unless satisfaction for those desires exists. A baby feels hunger: well, there is such a thing as food. A duckling wants to swim: well, there is such a thing as water. Men feel sexual desire: well, there is such a thing as sex. If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.“

“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. He will wipe away every tear
from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be
mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have
passed away.” And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am
making all things new.”
Revelation 21:2-5a

The fact that Jesus never apologizes for the suffering we will all inevitably endure is not an indication of a lack of concern or of a cold-hearted nature. It is rather, I believe, due to the fact that He fully understands something that we do not. Despite the fleeting glimpses of heaven we get in this world, even though there are Bible verses like the ones above that describe it, they do no justice whatsoever to what it will be like to personally experience it.

Dr. Richard Eby had just fallen two stories and landed headfirst on the sidewalk.

“I was dead on impact. Instantly, with a thud, I arrived at a place that was so ecstatically loaded with love, I knew it was Heaven…Suddenly I had a mind that thought with a speed incomputable on earth. The first time I heard the Lord’s voice, He said, “Dick, you’re dead!”…That He called me by my name showed me the intimacy He has with my existence. I asked, “Why did you call me Dick?” (It was a name used only by close friends and family.) He said, “When I died for you on the cross, it was a most intimate thing.”***2

After being dead for ten hours, Dr. Eby was miraculously revived and never forgot how personally he is known and loved by Jesus. Here, on this earth, our hearts constantly yearn for connection with those closest to us. Yet even our best attempts can often leave scars, because the more we love someone, the more power he or she has to wound us. On the other side, however, all of our wounds will be healed and we will finally experience Love in all of its fullness and our aching desire to connect with others will finally be satisfied.

The love in heaven is also physically manifested in its beauty. Captain Dale, a pilot flying a twin engine Piper Navajo with two of his friends, crashed into a seventy-five-foot-high aviation monument and saw first hand what glories await us.

“I knew instantly that this place was entirely and utterly holy. Don’t ask me how I knew, I just knew. I was overwhelmed by its beauty. It was breathtaking. And a strong sense of belonging filled my heart; I never wanted to leave. Somehow I knew I was made for this place and this place was made for me…The entire city was bathed in light, an opaque whiteness in which the light was intense but diffused. In that dazzling light every color imaginable seemed to exist and–what’s the right word?–played. The colors seemed to be alive, dancing in the air. I had never seen so many different colors…It was breathtaking to watch. And I could have spent forever doing just that.”3

If, as in my fantastic scenario, Charles had in fact given me a briefcase full of a million dollars for a partial day’s work, any discomfort I had endured would have been immediately forgotten. And I am fully convinced by the words of Scripture, by the first-hand testimony now of thousands of individuals who have had NDEs (Near Death Experiences) and by the love that Jesus Christ demonstrated for us by subjecting Himself to the brutality of the cross on our behalf, that when we pass from this life to the next, we will immediately experience the truth of this passage.

“For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all.”
2 Corinthians 4:17

The struggles that constantly haunt us, our flaws that bring us shame, the psychological pain that has been inescapable since childhood, will all, at once, be swallowed up into the most exquisite experience possible.

Captain Black continues, “The best unity I have ever felt on earth did not compare with the exhilarating oneness that I experienced with my spiritual family in heaven. This love…God’s love, was transforming. To experience something so sacred, so profound as the boundless love of God was the most thrilling part of heaven.”4 (Imagine Heaven, pg. 98)

So if, my friend, your sky is dark and storm clouds loom ahead; if your past is filled with pain and your present with burdens that make it all but impossible to lift your head…take heart. Look forward to a day that WILL come; a day where in a single moment every second of suffering you have endured will be awash in a love so intense that it will burn away all of the dross, removing every wound and painful memory, leaving only the pure gold gained from those brutal times. Leave your despair behind, loved one, and know that this is only temporary, but the glories that await you are eternal and all will be made new the moment you see your Savior, arms spread wide, and hear him say…

“Welcome home.”

  1. http://www.christianhistoryinstitute.org ↩︎
  2. Burke, John. Imagine Heaven: Near-Death Experiences, God’s Promises, and the Exhilerating Future That Awaits You. Baker Books, 2015. pp.72-73 ↩︎
  3. Ibid., 102-103 ↩︎
  4. Ibid., 98 ↩︎

*The martyrdom of Polycarp is quite a story and well worth reading. The flames did not kill him, so more drastic measures were needed.

**The book referenced is “IBM and the Holocaust” by Edwin Black. IBM’s assistance of the Nazis was well concealed, so Black recruited a team who worked secretly in many different countries to locate tens of thousands of documents proving the role Watson, IBM, and their many subsidiaries played in determining who the Jews were in country after country, orchestrating their transportation via the railways, and even tracking individuals all the way to their execution via the use of their revolutionary punch card machines.

***”Imagine Heaven” by John Burke is an amazing resource that dives into the world of near-death experiences from a Christian perspective and what they reveal about heaven and the God of the Bible. As medical technology continues to advance, more and more people are coming back to life after being physically dead, and many have experiences that give us valuable insight into what is on the other side. Far from an emotional fluff piece, this book references many published scientific studies about NDEs, including a fascinating study done by the University of Connecticut that only interviewed individuals who were born blind and what they saw while they were “on the other side” if you will.

Note on picture 2: Pictured left to right are Charles, our amazing friend Nathan, (Marshall is not normally the 3rd in our group) and me. I met Nathan through Charles and the three of us have been very close for about 25 years.

Note on picture 3: This is from my most recent trip to Arkansas to visit Nathan, his beautiful family, and Charles. What brought us together was unfortunately the passing of Charles’ mom, but we still had a wonderful time. If you know Charles well at all, you know how greatly he admires his grandparents (pictured), who have been his primary source of wisdom, love, and guidance over the course of his life.

A Voice in the Night

~ Brian Phillips ~ 1 Comment

There is a physical realm, and there is a spiritual realm. What is impossible in the former is sometimes completely possible in the latter. That is because each realm is governed by a completely different set of laws. Most people live their entire lives under the influence of physical laws with little or no thought about what goes on beyond the veil. But sometimes a normal person has an experience where the division between those realms is blurred and something physical crosses over and does what would otherwise be impossible.

This is a true story of just such an event. And the reason that I know beyond any doubt that it is true is because it happened to the most normal person I know…me.

I am quite passionate about working with the homeless, so for the past six years I have spent one day a week teaching, counseling and working alongside the homeless at an amazing facility here in Joplin, Missouri called Watered Gardens Gospel Rescue Mission.

A few of the great workers in the recycling center. Soon we will move from this 700 square foot room into a new 7000 square foot facility!

Finding value in what others no longer want is also a passion of mine, and one of the many ways that manifests itself is through recycling. About four years ago I began working on an idea that would combine the two. I wanted to create the ultimate win-win; something that would benefit the homeless, the ministry, the environment, local businesses, and individuals. It took about two years to get it going, and since day one it has grown…and grown…and grown. The model didn’t just “work”, it met a serious need in our community.  So much so that we didn’t dare advertise it or we would be inundated with the broken appliances, old computers, rusting lawnmowers and other recyclable goods that were cluttering the homes and businesses in our area.

It was just a few weeks ago on a Monday (July 30th to be precise) and I was working at Watered Gardens in the WorthShop (where the homeless and less fortunate work to earn food, a bed for the night, or even furniture for their new home). I love organizing, and by the time I get there each week, there is no shortage of that to be done.

Weaving among the workers, I was sorting totes of miscellaneous items and grouping various metals and circuit boards, when I heard an odd thud behind me. I turned around and noticed a commotion but couldn’t see what was going on. Moving closer to two of the worktables, I looked over them and saw the source. Mandy* was thrashing around on the floor, in the midst of a grand mal seizure.

The first thing I did was make sure my son was not in the room. A seizure can be quite an intense sight.

As her boyfriend Brad tried to keep her from injuring herself, she jerked and flailed with immense force, breaking the metal leg of a table in half with a single kick. Various liquids used in the copper purifying process slid down the broken table and spilled everywhere. Staff and workers frantically tried to get the table moved and the mess cleaned up. All the while Brad sat with Mandy, cradling her head, trying to hold her still.

“Come back to me, baby. Come back to me, baby.” he kept saying, gently kissing her on her forehead.

I walked closer to the table separating us and began doing the only thing I knew to do in such a situation…pray. I didn’t simply ask God to make the seizure stop, because I had a sense that this might not be the result of strictly medical issues. If you have spent a lot of time with those who have used a lot of hardcore drugs, especially crystal meth, you know (because once they trust you, they will tell you) that meth opens a doorway to the spiritual realm. They come face to face with creatures most people prefer to believe do not exist.

As she writhed around on the floor for one minute, then another, then another, some of the subjects I have studied guided my prayers. God is omniscient. He knows your thoughts better than you do. But demons possess no such power. So for your prayers to directly have an effect, they have to hear them. It doesn’t have to be loud, it just has to be uttered. And even though none of the people around me knew I was praying, if my sense was right, then they could.

Multiple staff members were now keeping a perimeter around her, someone brought in a cool wet rag, and Brad still held her. “Come back to me baby. I love you. Come back”. And Mandy just kept seizing.

Her eyes remained closed and she hadn’t been conscious of anything, when all of the sudden she used all of her power to arch her back, look behind her and lock eyes with me. She held my gaze, then shot out her hand towards me like she was drowning. Her eyes were more desperate than any I had ever seen, and she looked like she was being dragged down to hell, reaching out for me to save her.

For a few moments she reached, our eyes still locked, then she collapsed and the seizure renewed. Her eyes clinched, and her hands looked like gnarled claws. I just kept praying.

After another minute or two, the seizure gradually subsided, but she was still not with us. Now she was finally still, even though she was unnaturally rigid. Brad gradually started lifting her into a sitting position. Then she opened her eyes.

Mandy didn’t hug her boyfriend. She didn’t even acknowledge all of the people standing around her. Mandy didn’t speak. The second her eyes opened, they began scanning the room. She turned and looked behind her, and again her eyes locked with mine.

Both of her hands shot out, and I reached out mine. She gripped it tightly.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she repeated with tears streaming down her face.

I walked around the table and helped her boyfriend gently lift her still rigid body into a chair, and I stood there with my hand on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” she said to everyone around her, visibly embarrassed about the scene she had caused. Mandy then lifted her head and gazed to the heavens and as she wept said, “God, I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!” For the next two minutes I held my hand on her shoulder and Mandy, with eyes lifted, confessed one sin after another, interspersed with cries of “God, please forgive me! Please forgive me!”

When she had said what she needed to, Mandy looked back at us, the tears stopped, and she put her hand on mine. She still couldn’t walk, so I helped Brad support her and take her to another room where she could sit in peace. We got her into a chair and I quietly left the room.

I worked by myself for the next hour, quiet and pensive, trying to figure out how to process the previous 15 minutes. I knew something out of the ordinary had occurred, I just had no idea what. Whatever it was, it obviously hadn’t affected any of the other people in the room. They were all back at their tasks. As I continued to search for an explanation, I resolved myself to the fact that I would most likely never get one. Fortunately, I was wrong.

The next Monday I was working in the WorthShop again and walked out into the hall and Mandy walked by. She looked…different. She came up to me with a big smile on her face and gave me a hug. She had never hugged me before. I asked her how she was doing and again she smiled.

“I’m doing great! I feel good. And I’ve been keeping my system clean,” she said giving me a wink.

“You look like you’re doing good!” I said. “I’ve been praying for you.”

“Thank you.”

We started to walk away and I stopped. I just had to know. Again, I honestly didn’t expect to learn anything about what happened the previous Monday. We rarely get to see behind the veil, and I didn’t expect to get that chance now.

“Mandy…may I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Why did you look for me as soon as you came out of your seizure and thank me?”

Her eyes turned serious.

“Nothing like that has ever happened to me before. I really thought I was going to die. Then I could hear the words of your prayer. I could hear them clear as day. I grabbed onto them, then I started praying with you. I took hold of them and that was what pulled me back. It was a miracle. Thank you.”

I looked to my left, where my 9 year-old son Thatcher was standing, and he looked up at me with wide eyes. I had been praying so silently that I couldn’t even hear my words; but someone in the midst of a seizure could hear every word.

I gave her another hug and we went our separate ways.

I have seen Mandy every week since then and she keeps improving. The last time I saw her she had started back on her medications and felt better than she had in a long time.

Most of our lives we work hard, trying to be a blessing to others, hoping we can truly make a difference. If that sounds like you, may I tell you something? Don’t stop. You may never get to see the results of your acts of kindness, or the answers to many of your prayers, but you ARE making a difference. I promise you. Your kind deeds performed on this side of the veil aren’t limited by physical laws. Love, kindness, and prayers, in the spiritual realm can accomplish more than you and I are physically capable of, and every once in a while, God takes your simple act and does the impossible.

 

*Out of respect, I changed the names of those involved.

 

Tuesday Morning with a Prostitute – A True Story of Pain, Redemption and Thanksgiving*

~ Brian Phillips ~ 2 Comments

Warning: this post may contain triggers for sexual abuse survivors.

You don’t expect a casual conversation to result in a call to the FBI. But there’s a first time for everything.

When I volunteer at Watered Gardens, I never know who is going to walk through the door.  If I know them, they are typically moving forward in their life, have established better habits and are off of the street, like Linda. She’s a very kind black lady who spent years on hardcore drugs but has been clean for a long time.

But sometimes a new person comes in. He or she might be a transient, in Joplin for a bit before they move on. Other days, I get to visit with someone who barely has one foot out of hell. Something, or rather Someone is trying to drag him into a new life, and that’s why he’s here. Today was one of those “other days”.

The statue "Mary Magdalene Crying"
The statue “Mary Magdalene Crying”

When Latasha walked in, I could instantly tell she was sassy. She exuded personality. She was friendly, had a big smile on her face, and loved to talk. For the next hour I was going to be privileged to get a glimpse into a life very similar to Mary Magdalene’s, I just didn’t know it yet.

After a few minutes of small talk, Latasha started telling me her story. She held nothing back.

One thing I’ve learned is that everybody has a “rock bottom”; a place in life that makes someone so uncomfortable that they finally make major changes. But it’s not the same for any two people. Latasha’s  rock bottom was the lowest I had ever witnessed; and she had hit it….hard. The amazing thing is that she lived to tell about it.

She was dropped off at Watered Gardens after detoxing at a facility a couple of hours away. She had checked in on her own. “You come here (to Watered Gardens) if you want to live,” she said. I could sense her determination to maintain a grasp on this different kind of life.

“What made you decide to leave?” I asked her.

“I could sense God pulling on me, and I was sick of living with my dope man. He made me watch nothing but porn and since I was always high, I was paranoid and wouldn’t go outside at all. I could barely bring myself to look out the window.”

A lot of people don’t realize that drugs like crystal meth literally open a door to the spiritual realm. Behind that door are the things that nightmares are made of.

She went on to describe the physical fights she would have with demonic forces when she was high. But when she wasn’t in that state, her “dope man” as she called him, wasn’t much better. In addition to pornography constantly streaming on the television, they fought all of the time. He was an active Satanist, a drug dealer and displayed all sorts of odd behaviors.

“He has computers all over the house! They’re wired up all strange and I can’t make sense out of it. He’s always switching out hard drives, too. He has like 75 of them!”

To Latasha, his actions weren’t something to make sense out of; they were just bizarre. But I was looking at the situation from a different perspective. I knew that there were only a few things sensitive enough to merit that type of behavior, and since his day job was laying tile, I knew he wasn’t dealing in top secret government documents. That left me with only one option that made sense.

“He produces child porn!” I said, as I tried to grasp just how evil this man was.

“What?!”

Latasha was shocked at what I said. But then I could see her start to think. She began remembering details that never made sense before.

“You’re right! That’s why he started telling me after I put my kids up for adoption that he was losing money on me.”

“He would get me stoned out of my mind, then he would disappear to this shed behind the house and lock himself in there for hours. He never would tell me what he was doing.”

“And then there were the screams…..”

She described times where she had heard the screams of children coming through the walls, but her intoxicated state and his dismissive comments made her push them to the back of her mind. But now, sober, out of his reach, and the recipient of a new life, she knew exactly what she had heard.

She shared more disturbing specifics, so I was pretty confident in my conclusion. Even if she wasn’t willing to do anything about her dope man, I was going to. I asked her some detailed questions about him and took notes, making sure I didn’t forget anything of importance.

She then started talking about her more distant past.

“My dad has always hated me. When I was two, he put me in the deep freeze. Later, when it became known that he had pointed a pistol at me and wanted to kill me, the state took me away. I spent the next 15 years in and out of foster care.”

This is my princess Chandler at her school Christmas program last night.
This is my princess Chandler at her school Christmas program last night.

Ministering to the broken is a constant reminder of just how blessed I have been. It also turns the phrase “There but for the grace of God, go I” into something far more than a cliche. Latasha’s father wanted to kill her. Mine helped coach my baseball team and took me fishing. Never for a second have I doubted my dad’s love for me. My daughter and she is three, and her name is Chandler. I call her my princess and tell her she is beautiful almost every day. Hearing about how her dad treated her made me sick to my stomach and furious at the same time.

Having no idea what being loved was like, in desperation, she reached out for a gross perversion of it and became a prostitute. My heart broke as I got a glimpse of what Jesus might have felt when the prostitute came and poured costly oil over his feet while others looked on in disgust. All they saw was her deplorable lifestyle. Jesus saw the pain….every bit of it; and loved her.

Latasha had recently experienced that same love, both from God Himself and the people at Watered Gardens That love saved her life. But more importantly, He saved her soul, and she could not stop thanking Jesus for it. Her desire to tell me her story was not to bring attention to herself. She was desperate to tell me what He had done in her life.

The last night with her dope man, things came to a brutal climax. Screams and curses filled the air. She grabbed a large butcher knife from the kitchen and held the tip firmly against her stomach.

As his hands grabbed on to the handle, she screamed at him, “If your devil is stronger than my God, then KILL ME!”

Hands tightened and fury filled the room. Her life could literally end any second, and she knew it. But she would rather die than continue this kind of life. And even though Latasha knew that he wanted to kill her, there was the feeling in the back of her mind that this battle between God and Satan had already been won long ago. And whether her dope man recognized the true Victor or not, he was powerless against the One who now claimed her as His own.

She left that night and checked into a drug rehab facility. After some time there, they asked her where she wanted to go. With no family to take good care of her, she chose Watered Gardens. The love the staff had showed her there was unlike anything she had ever experienced. They had been encouraging her in this odd new life, and she could not stop saying how thankful she was, both for them and to God. He had given her an opportunity to truly live for the first time.

Later that day, while at my office, I spent a half hour on the phone with an FBI investigator. I shared all of the details I had about her dope man: where he lived, his full name, his drug dealing, and my own conclusions. I had told Latasha that she needed to talk to the police, but since I wasn’t sure if she would follow through, I did all I could on my end. There was no way I was going to let that scum bag continue what he was doing if I had any chance of stopping it.

When I got off of the phone, it took me a few hours to calm down. Simply witnessing a life so intensely hellish had taken a toll on me; and Latasha had lived it for most of her life.

I came away from this experience knowing something first-hand that Christians who live more average lives often give lip-service to. No matter how far gone a life may appear to be, there is no such thing as a life that is out of God’s reach. He can rescue the most destitute. He can restore the most broken. He can redeem the most guilty.

Latasha’s life is proof of that, and that is why I am telling you about her. It is indeed something to be thankful for this Christmas season.

And thank you, Latasha, for entrusting me, a complete stranger, with your amazing story.

May God bless you in your new life.

*All of the details of this story are true. I have only changed the names of the individuals involved.

Reflections from the Waiting Room

~ Brian Phillips ~ Leave a comment

My wife, Nicole, and I are currently sitting in a surgery center waiting room. Operating RoomOur beautiful daughter, Chandler, who turned 3 six days ago, was just put to sleep for minor surgery.

Our explanation to her consisted of “we’re going to get your teeth fixed so they don’t hurt anymore”. That made sense to her, and she happily followed us back to a room full of metal beds and strangers wearing funny hats. However, when it came to taking a small dose of pink medicine, Nicole had to lay her down, pin her arms and use a syringe to make her swallow it.

All Chandler was aware of at the moment when her own mommy was pinning her down, was that the medicine she was being forced to take tasted “yucky”. She had no idea why she needed the medicine, and if given the explanation, then the option of whether or not to take the medicine, she would have still rejected it.

Chandler turned 3 on February 12 and there is no way that Chandler could understand that her chipped and aching tooth is only what she can see on the surface. The x-rays told a far worse story. All four of her top front teeth were in desperate need of capping, as were some others in the back. If action wasn’t taken very soon, the pain would have only gotten much worse.

I did not want to leave my still conscious 3 year-old princess in the hands of those strange men; knowing they would put a gas mask on her, knock her out, insert an IV, force a breathing tube up her nose and into her lungs, and then grind away at her tiny teeth. I did not want to allow that one bit. But I knew if I didn’t, she would suffer far more pain in the long run.

I have been a father for five and a half years, and I understand now, far better than ever, why the Bible constantly compares God’s relationship with us to ours with our own children. The parallels are seemingly endless.

My princess Chandler, with her Nanny Cee Cee at the beach.
My princess Chandler, with her Nanny Cee Cee at the beach.

God takes no pleasure, whatsoever, in any of the trials or suffering that you or I have to go through. If I enjoyed watching my Chandler suffer, you would call me sick and demented, and rightly so. Why then do we entertain the thought that God might enjoy or even be indifferent to our suffering. Remember, He is not the flawed father. I am.

However, our issue is really not so much that we think He is indifferent to our suffering, but rather that we tend to forget that He places a much higher value on certain areas of growth than we do.

Unfortunately, the currencies of this world often undervalue certain character traits that from heaven’s view are literally priceless.

We were willing to allow Chandler to suffer physically for a short time so she could avoid far greater pain in the future. But there are actually worse things than physical suffering. From God’s perspective, the presence of traits that will have eternal ramifications, such as humility, integrity, holiness, patience, etc. are more important than the absence of physical or psychological pain, which is temporal.

I wanted to cry as I thought of what they were going to do to Chandler, but I didn’t, because I knew it was actually a blessing, albeit a veiled one. Don’t ever forget that it truly breaks God’s heart to see us suffer. But when it comes to the most important things in our lives, our Father does indeed know what is best.