Before the Sun Sets

Sunday, February 4, 1996

is a significant day

in the Redfern family.

Our son, Scott, was a sophomore at Immanuel High School in Reedley. (Keep in mind:

sophomoric

means

overconfident with knowledge but poorly informed

.) He was having a

sophomoric

morning. He argued with me all the way to church about

some

issue on which he was not well informed. He was relentless and unapologetic about wanting his way. Neither Tony or I can even recall the issue, but we remember the argument well.

As we arrived at church, Scott was still angry and left the car in a huff. Am I the only one out here who finds it so artificial to sit through church with an argument still on the table?

Following church, Tony reminded Scott how important it was to make things right with me. Time, and perhaps some serious conviction, had softened Scott's heart. He told Tony that he knew he was wrong and was on his way to talk to me. Scott walked up beside me, put his arm around my shoulder and apologized for his anger. He asked me to forgive him, and I did. We hugged and went on to have a great day, laughing and talking with one another about the plans we had for the coming week.

The next day, February 5th, at 11:36 a.m., God called Scott home

(

read Scott’s story

)

.

He was placed on life support and kept alive about 30 hours. Scott was declared brain dead on Tuesday, February 6th.

February 4th is such an vital day to our family's journey. Not because it was our last full day with Scott, although we cherish that time. Even more importantly, February 4th is one of our most treasured days because Scott chose to not let the sun go down on his anger - without even a hint that he would never have another day to offer an apology.

The words of Ephesians 4:26 are not a suggestion; they are an imperative in living out our faith –

Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger.

Anger is not always a sin. Holding on to one's anger to the point of breaking relationships is where sin grows.

Do not let the sun go down on your anger

became very real to our family as we gathered around Scott's hospital bed. Amid our immense sorrow arose a deep gratitude that in his last hours, Scott allowed his commitment to Jesus Christ to transform his own selfish, natural desire to be right. Although we miss Scott deeply we find comfort in knowing that we do not carry the regret of

unfinished business

– a conflict left unresolved.

Could today become one of your family's most significant days?

Is there an apology you need to make . . . before the sun sets?

Brokenness

This is the season of the year

when I am painfully aware of brokenness.

It was 13 years ago that my son’s body was broken beyond repair. Hit in the face with a piece of wood that spun out of control off the lathe in his wood shop class, Scott’s body crumbled to the cement floor on impact.

It was 13 years ago that we sat with countless friends and family to keep a 30-hour vigil, hoping and praying for a miracle that would allow Scott to survive. I remember bringing a picture of Scott to the hospital to show the doctors what Scott

really

looked like . . . before he was broken.

It was 13 years ago when we returned home to an empty house after hearing two neurologists declare our only son brain dead. I remember thinking . . . our family, our home, and our lives will never be

whole

again.

During this season of the year, I am reminded that God is the Master Potter. With gratitude, I read and re-read Jeremiah 18:1-4. This passage tells about God's desire to transform brokenness to wholeness.

The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: “Arise, and go down to the potter’s house, and there I will let you hear my words.” So I went down to the potter’s house, and there he was working at his wheel. And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do.”

Spoiled in the potter’s hand; those words have such deep theological meaning for me. You see, I am held in The Potter’s hand. Scott was held in The Potter’s hand. Our family, your family, all of creation is held in The Potter’s hand. Sometimes events of this world and our choices in life spoil, even break us.

How sad it would be if brokenness was a terminal condition like the shattered pot in the picture above.

But the promise of redemption is so clear in these verses. “He reworked it

(the broken pieces of the vessel)

into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do.”

For Scott, his transformation meant healing in Eternity. It meant what seemed good to God was to use Scott’s death to draw others into the Kingdom.

For me, it means that God lovingly gathers

all those broken shards

laying around the floor of my heart,

and transforms the brokenness of my life,

my dreams, and my emotions –

into a vessel that is useful and whole.

I hope you noticed the

tense

of the words above. God

gathers

, continually gathers, my brokenness, and lovingly transforms it into something new. As one who has lost a precious loved one, I know all too well that there is no such thing as closure. My grief and brokenness come upon me at various times of the year, at family events, or when I find objects that link me back to my precious Scott.

That is why I love God's example of broken pottery.

My cousin Dave, and his wife Rachel, are missional artists living in Germany. I appreciate how Dave's work at his potter’s wheel embodies the message of Jeremiah 18:1-4. Dave takes the broken pieces of pottery - the shards of broken clay laying on the studio floor and the excess pieces cut away by other artists, and

reclaims

them

(his word)

-

redeems

them

(my word)

- transforming the broken pieces into something beautiful.

Dave says,

Nothing here is wasted. Even the mistakes and broken pieces can be restored into something beautiful.

It is my prayer for myself, and for you, that we will continue to trust The Potter with the shards of our lives, and trust Him to bring transformation.

Click

here

to visit Dave’s blog to see his process of redeeming brokenness.

New Year's Eve in the Balcony

In a few hours it will be New Year's Eve ~ December 31, 2008. I plan to spend at least part of New Year's Eve in the balcony. British theologian Alister McGrath, in his book Suffering and God, shares an analogy of the balcony and the road, to illustrate one's perspective while on life's journey.

In this analogy, the balcony refers to a platform that protrudes from an upper window to allow one to see off into the distance, to see how far one has come, to see what lies ahead, or to simply gaze at the journey from a fresh vantage point.

The road is that place "where life is tensely lived . . . where choices are made and decisions are carried out." The road, where one may travel far with the wind at one's back, or grind to a halt from insurmountable pressures of stress, conflict and loss.

When I remain on the road, I see the projects I did not complete, those extra pounds I did not lose, the time I wasted on petty things. I see places where weeds grow up to block the way. On the road, I stand face-to-face with the struggles and obstacles which at times seem to overwhelm me.

I really am looking forward to climbing into the balcony on New Year's Eve. From that perspective, I see all the ground I did cover in 2008. I see the boulders that were in my path, and somehow I managed to navigate around them. I see where the road narrowed and was difficult, yet I kept on putting one foot in front of the other to travel on.

And in the balcony, I will turn to face the road ahead. I can see that I indeed am not alone as there are other travelers further along the same road I intend to travel. I get a clear picture of where it is I am going. I can see that even though the road may twist and turn, it takes me where I want to go if I just keep moving along. My perspective on life is transformed in the balcony!

Maybe your road in 2008 was straight and clear, and you are rejoicing in the successes you have experienced along the way! That is a wonderful way to celebrate on New Year's Eve.

Maybe your year has had times of disappointment or despair. Maybe you wish you could simply forget 2008 completely. I invite you to step off the road of life and climb into the balcony to gain a clearer perspective on the past twelve months, and to look ahead to the coming new year. It is quite a view from the balcony!

Happy New Year from Life's Balcony!

O HOLY NIGHT

O Holy Night

The stars are brightly shining,

It is the night of our dear Saviour's birth.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining,

'Til He appear'd and the soul felt its worth.

O Holy Night

is a well-known Christmas carol composed in 1847 to accompany a French poem about the night of Jesus's birth. Although our English version is not a direct translation of the French poem, it communicates to me the significance of this night.

For most families around the world, Christmas Eve is a night of anticipation. For children, it means falling to sleep and waking up to see what gifts await them. For parents, it often means a long night of assembling those "easy to assemble" toys for our children, and awaiting their shouts of joy. For many, it is traditionally the night we celebrate our Savior's birth.

This year, the anticipation of Christmas Eve is even clearer to me. As you can tell by the name of my blog, I love the notion of

redeeming the future

. (Honestly, there may be some readers who scratch their heads at the name of my blog.) My desire is to look at the events of this fallen world through a new lens. And to me, Christmas Eve, one of the most blessed nights in history, is perhaps the greatest example of

redeeming the future

for all of us.

According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, to

redeem

means to:

• to buy back • to change for the better • to make good • to exchange for something of value • to free from what distresses or harms • to offset the bad effect of • to free from the consequences of sin • to release from blame or debt • to make worthwhile

For me,

redeeming the future

means that I can transform the pain of my past, the lament of my losses, the offenses of life, the disappointments and failures, and

change it for the better, make it good, exchange it for something of value, release the blame, and make it worthwhile

. It means I can have

"strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow."

Lamentations 3:19-25

O Holy Night, when "Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross."

Phillipians 2:5-8

O Holy Night, when our Savior came to the world that lay in sin and error pining, to bring the promise of a future with Him.

O Holy Night, when my soul felt its worth.

Christmas Present

This past December 2007, as Andy sat before the computer to compose their Christmas letter, tears were all he could produce. Andy and Stephanie hoped to announce the wonderful news that they were expecting their first child. But two years of infertility and a miscarriage finally wore their spirits thin. Tears were all they had . . . and who sends tears at Christmas?

Andy and Stephanie knew the Babe of Bethlehem came to earth to bring salvation, yet the joy of Christmas was dampened by their sorrow. They worshiped Him as King of Kings. But their grief was great. Their hearts were heavy.

Trusting God with their grief, Andy and Stephanie began to accept the fact that they may not produce children of their own, and they began to work with an adoption agency. There were questionnaires to complete, interviews to go through, and classes to learn about how to be adoptive parents. Then, the morning after they completed a weekend parenting seminar on adoption, Andy and Stephanie were surprised by a positive pregnancy test!

Once again, they had conceived! But like others who live with the burden of infertility, their joy was mixed with the reality that another miscarriage may occur. Again, they waited on the Lord.

Now,

Christmas Present

is here, as Andy sits before the computer this December 2008, he has magnificent news to share. The Lord has given them a precious daughter, Annaliese Joy, who came into their world on November 18th. In their Christmas letter, Andy writes, “She is beautiful like her mother and each day we both fall more madly in love with her. I can better imagine now the love the Father must have for us as His children.”

I am privileged to know Andy and Stephanie as friends. I am grateful for their willingness to be transparent in their pain and sorrow. Although they cried many tears, and their empty arms at Christmas, 2007 was a very difficult time, they never lost the perspective of a loving heavenly Father who sent his Son to earth over 2000 years ago.

In their sorrow, Andy and Stephanie turned to this Wonderful Counselor, the Prince of Peace, to carry their burden, to restore their joy, and to increase their faith. What God taught them about His promises could not have been learned except in the depths of their need. And the beauty of redemption is that it truly sets one free to restore the future, to be transformed rather than destroyed by the pain of the past.

This story of Christmas Present is not about

redeeming the future

because a precious daughter was born into their family. The birth of Annaliese does not take away the pain and grief of the life they lost through miscarriage and the sorrow of years of infertility. Andy and Stephanie began to redeem the future in the

midst

of their grief. It was there, in the dark night of the soul, that the potential existed for this young couple to be destroyed by the loss of the dream of having children of their own. But Andy and Stephanie chose daily, in the midst of their pain, to be transformed along the way. By God’s grace and mercy, they chose to rest in the everlasting arms of God, to trust Him with the losses, and in the process, their lives continue to glorify God and draw others to His Kingdom.

That, my friends, is redeeming the future.

Revelation 21:3-5 promises: And I heard a loud voice from the throne, saying, "Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them, and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away." And He who sits on the throne said, "Behold, I am making all things new," and He said, "Write, for these words are faithful and true."

Welcome Annaliese Joy

Precious Gift of God