Worth the Hurt to Find a Cure

By Brenda Black

Prior to last Saturday, I had never noticed how many bricks pave the Butler, MO, square. Sure, I noticed the thumping vibration under car tires every time I drove those roads during the past 30 years. But I hadn't stopped to consider the quantity. When you lap the courthouse 28 times, you begin taking account – of each brick... each step...every puddle and piece of gravel. More than the bricks under my Nikes, I counted the blessings of such a beautiful day for so many beautiful lives.

It was a perfect day. For some a miraculous day. Last Saturday, as I walked in support and to help raise funds for cancer research, dozens more walked as survivors. When my feet ached, I thanked God for feet to walk. When my knees ached, I thought of the pain that cancer patients have endured. When my pony tail flapped in the cool breeze, I thought of all the beautiful women who lost their flowing tresses to cancer treatment. When my hips hollered, “How much more of this?” I thought of the hours that cancer patients spent in sick beds or the hours lost in lives cut short.

With great ease, we can slip into our lives of comfort and quickly forget that others fight for every moment. Though I do not bear the burden of a deadly disease, I live each day in a battle with chronic pain. So the walk I took on Saturday hammered my legs with terrible pain as I padded along, and for the following several days. With rest and care, I'll recuperate and go again. I've gotten used to it.

Still, some ask me how I can keep smiling when I am hurting. It's a choice I tell them. And I truly believe that a happy heart is good medicine and helps significantly. Obviously I am not the only one who chooses joy. As far removed as I am from being able to relate with the fear and horrors of cancer, I can thoroughly appreciate the amazing resilience and positive attitudes of those who choose to live victoriously in spite of that “Big C” wicked enemy!

Two victorious survivors!

Relay for Life events are a testimony of the tenacious, a witness to the winners, a dance for the determined and a celebration for the conquerors. I was blessed to participate with the Bates County Cattlemen and CattleWomen's team. And I was compelled to keep moving over those thousands of bricks by the inspiration of all the every-day heroes represented that day.

To everyone who planned the event, to all the teams who contributed, to every care giver, family member and cancer patient, I say God bless! It was worth the hurt to find a cure.

I wonder if that is what Jesus thought when He hung on the cross. He suffered in anguish, enduring horrific pain to cure all mankind from wicked sin. Even before He willingly went to Calvary, Christ explained in every-day terms the higher purpose, the greater good, the incredible joy that would come on the heels of indescribable hurt.

“'A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.'” (John 16:21-22)

Jesus promised that His pain and the grief of His supporters and followers would one day be met with perfect peace. “'I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.'” (Jn. 16:33)

No matter how sick, tired, or anguished a person becomes, there is hope on the other side of the hurt when Christ bears the pain with us. And He has proven faithful. Jesus Christ proclaimed you worth it and walked a narrow, rocky, lonely, excruciating path to be the ultimate cure. For each one who trusts the Savior, joy will come in full measure. And one day, there will be no sickness or sorrow, but peace and joy and the perfect cure.

Abigail the Industrious and Intelligent

courtesy centralbaptistprescott.blogspot.com 

By Brenda Black

Abigail has to be one of the coolest women to ever live! She was smart, resourceful and prepared like a Proverbs 31 woman long before that chapter was written. Abigail was kind and clever. She was humble yet in charge. Abigail even kept a king from walking out of the will of God. Ladies, if you're looking for a role model, may I suggest Abigail the Industrious and Intelligent.

Her heroic story of common sense is found in the book of 1 Samuel, chapter 25.

“One of Nabal's young men informed Abigail, Nabal's wife: 'Look, David sent messengers from the wilderness to greet our master, but he yelled at them. The men treated us well. When we were in the field, we weren't harassed and nothing of ours was missing the whole time we were living among them. They were a wall around us, both day and night, the entire time we were herding the sheep. Now consider carefully what you must do, because there is certain to be trouble for our master and his entire family. He is such a worthless fool nobody can talk to him!'” (1 Sam. 25:14-17)

Before the story continues, let's pause and consider one reason for Abigail's sensibility. She had to be! The man she married lacked tact, as well as intelligence. His own servants sized him up to be a “worthless fool.” If it is true that opposites attract, that may explain this polarized couple – a hot head and a kind heart; one who hoarded and one who gave; one who listened to nobody and one who heard the plea of a servant.

In the heat of the moment, clear headed Abigail knew just what to do. “Abigail hurried, taking 200 loaves of bread, two skins of wine, five butchered sheep, a bushel of roasted grain, 100 clusters of raisins, and 200 cakes of pressed figs, and loaded them on donkeys. Then she said to her male servants, 'Go ahead of me. I will be right behind you.' But she did not tell her husband Nabal.” (1 Sam. 25:18-19)

Okay, stop the donkey! How many of you are thinking, “Who has that much food at the ready?” My thoughts exactly. The fact that Abigail the Industrious has stockpiled enough food for an army is phenomenal. This was long before refrigeration, shrink wrap or any modern-day convenience. Sure she had the help of an apparently gigantic entourage of servants, but somebody had to be in charge. Abigail ruled that pantry with a cast iron fist!

“When Abigail saw David, she quickly got off the donkey and fell with her face to the ground in front of David. She fell at his feet and said, 'The guilt is mine, my lord, but please let your servant speak to you directly. Listen to the words of your servant. My lord should pay no attention to this worthless man Nabal, for he lives up to his name: His name is Nabal, and stupidity is all he knows. I, your servant, didn't see my lord's young men whom you sent. Now my lord, as surely as the Lord lives and as you yourself live, it is the Lord who kept you from participating in bloodshed and avenging yourself by your own hand. May your enemies and those who want trouble for my lord be like Nabal. Accept this gift your servant has brought to my lord, and let it be given to the young men who follow my lord. Please forgive your servant's offense, for the Lord is certain to make a lasting dynasty for my lord because he fights the Lord's battles. Throughout your life, may evil not be found in you.” (1Sam. 25:23-28)

Abigail the Intelligent saved lives and spared David another sinful slide away from the center of God's will. She called on courage and practiced great communication skills. She humbly honored David. She sacrificially assumed her husband's guilt. She wisely isolated Nabal from the innocent that would have been slain because of his sin. She stopped a catastrophe. She declared a prophecy. She fed an army. Just all in a day's work for this woman. Yes, Abigail has to be one of the coolest women who ever lived!

 Nabal was called harsh and evil. Abigail was deemed intelligent and beautiful. The world could use a lot more Abigails and far fewer Nabals. Which are you?

Without End

By Brenda Black

I remember well weary nights of rocking and nursing and praying my infant sons would “please just go to sleep.” There were bumps and bruises and scraped knees and one incident of some tiny burned fingers during the toddling years. I prayed courage for me and for their relief. Academic success, good friendships, purity of mind and heart and safety driving a car called for time on my knees while my sons grew up and I survived their teens. Now the stakes are higher and just when I think the job of parenting growing boys is reaching an end, I discover the far greater responsibility of praying for my adult children.

My mom is still on the clock for me and joins me as we pray for her grandsons. A dear friend shares my burden and I her's as we lift one another's adult children daily before the Lord. I still pray for safety and healthy relationships. I plead for direction and ask God to lead them straight to the center of His will. I understand like never before the power of prayer.

Still, it amazes me when I witness God's hand on their lives, both in blessings and challenges He lavishes and allows. And always I remember how critical the calloused knees of a mother at every stage in life. There is much to cover, much to anticipate, much to hope for and much to fear. The job of a praying parent is without end.

Hannah, the mother of Samuel, sets the standard for dedicated prayer. We hear her faithfulness in 1 Samuel 1:27-28a.

“I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord.”

I, like Hannah, prayed for my children before they ever were conceived. I prayed for their healthy arrival. I was blessed with two bouncing boys three years and three months apart. In between, I was blessed to carry a small life but a matter of weeks. That child I'll one day meet. The gift of healthy babies and the heartache of a baby unborn can never be fully understood. One is a miracle, the other covered in mercy to endure and accept that God knows best. Each, given over to the Lord in life and death.

As a praying parent, I have to revisit the concept of “giving over” over and over again. To entrust these whom I have nursed, clothed, fed, loved, sheltered, tutored, laughed with and cried over for the greater part of my life on earth is no easy calling. But I can't carry them in a back pack or hover over them in a cradle as I once did. I have to watch from a distance and surrender them to the One whose hands are big enough to hold them no matter how big and burley they get. He is able to speak peace to their hearts when their mother needs to be silent. The Lord Almighty counsels them with far better advice than this wise woman who thinks she knows them best. And God loves them more than I could ever muster because, though I carried them in a womb, He knit them together and placed His fingerprint on their hearts and heads.

So I just pray. And pray. And pray without end. And I have the pleasure of watching the Lord at work in two men. I see how He leads them and provides for them; how He teaches and guides them. I watch how they recognize more quickly the peace and joy that is theirs for the asking. I weep when I hear them give God their thanks and praise because it means their dad and I have done something right in this world: We've pointed them and prayed them to the Lord.

Parenting is many things. Painful. Pleasurable. Surprising. Challenging. Exciting. Demanding. Rewarding. Parenting is supposed to be filled with love and sacrifice and promise. Most importantly, parenting is a test of faith and calls for active prayer.

Especially when the kids grow up, parents need to look up for the Heavenly Father's will, for no child should ever doubt that they are loved or lifted at any age.

Rebuilding Lives with God's Helping Hands

By Brenda Black

I'm writing my column this morning in route to Joplin for another day of volunteer service. Our family is working in a warehouse sorting donations for distribution. It is mind numbing to take in the devastation and life-altering to be serving any way we can to help so many precious people. I fear my words can't express the depth nor breadth of emotions we're feeling. Don't stop praying or aiding Joplin, my friends. Together we can make a difference and declare that God is among us and at work.

“But I prayed, 'Now strengthen my hands.'” – Nehemiah 6:9b

Mountains of mass destruction lay piled in heaps of what used to be communities, offices, and stores. Among the gnarled rubble also reside the accumulations of life-long memories of thousands of families forever changed from monstrous storms. I've been to Joplin. I've seen it and still cannot believe the gargantuan swath of death and debris. The clean up and reconstruction will take months, if not years. And it will take millions of man hours to rebuild a great city. I believe it will be done by the hands of God-fearing men and women who realize the enormity of the project, but know there is far more at stake than boards and bricks.

When Nehemiah led the Israelite nation in building the Jerusalem wall, he counted the cost and knew what level of commitment it required for completion. He knew for whom he built it. He also knew all too well that his greatest resources were the volunteers who labored day after day and what was needed to keep the work going.

“But out of reverence for God...I devoted myself to the work on this wall. All my men were assembled there for the work...Furthermore, a hundred and fifty Jews and officials ate at my table, as well as those who came to us from the surrounding nations. Each day one ox, six choice sheep and some poultry were prepared for me, and every ten days an abundant supply of wine of all kinds. In spite of all this, I never demanded the food allotted to the governor, because the demands were heavy on these people. Remember me with favor, O my God, for all I have done for these people.” (Nehemiah 5:15c-19)

Out of reverence for God, our family is devoting some time to the work of the Joplin wall. And let me tell you, the job is so enormous, that our service is a drop in a bucket six miles long and a half mile wide that expands to the depths of thousands of human souls and reaches into heaven. While our contributions of volunteer hours will be sporadic, there are thousands in Joplin daily dealing with the logistics of meeting insurmountable needs. There are layers of details involved with utilizing and mobilizing the masses who show up to help. Traffic controllers need controlled; base camp cooks have to know how many to cook for; managers are needed to organize mass distribution and ministers must be available at a moment's notice. Demolition and construction crews need directions on where to go. And truckers have to have a place to unload. And the work goes on and on and on and local residents are assuming the high calling of orchestrating the massive relief efforts. These are the true wall builders!

We met many of them on Wednesday at College Heights Christian Church. They are hauling goods, sorting donations, distributing food and clothing, water and words of comfort. They are baking cookies for crews and sitting with shocked families who are trying to forget nightmarish horrors while having to deal with overwhelming hardship.

When I can't be hands-on in Joplin, I plan to be holding these faithful saints up in prayer for I am certain their bodies will grow weak and weary and outside forces will tell them it can't be done. Nehemiah faced such opposition and he resolved to “carrying on a great project.” (Neh. 6:3) His enemies tried to frighten the wall builders and taunted them with stinging words: “Their hands will get too weak for the work, and it will not be completed.” (Neh. 6:8-9a)

But Nehemiah prayed: “Now strengthen my hands.” (Neh. 9b)

The result: The wall was completed! “When all our enemies heard about this and all the surrounding nations saw it, our enemies lost their self-confidence, because they realized that this work had been done with the help of our God. “ (Neh. 6:15-16)

And so it shall be with Joplin. As believers pray for Christian brothers forging ahead in love and purpose, the world will watch and know that God-honoring people rebuilt Joplin – brick by brick, board by board and one life at a time through loving, generous, selfless helping hands.

Counting the Cost

Counting the Cost
By Brenda Black

Memorial Day originally honored the Civil War dead that numbered more than 620,000 men. Each May since 1868, America's freedom-grateful acknowledge their fallen protectors with quiet prayer, vivid floral wreaths and ceremonious events. Try as we may to humble ourselves as a nation and observe the solemn and selfless acts of brave soldiers, the gestures pale in comparison to their greatness. And sadly, there will remain an ignorant disregard among the masses for such noble sacrifice.

Though teenage men faced bloody battles more than a hundred years ago, and writhed with guilt and weariness and hunger, little thought will be given them at 21st Century beach-side BBQs where youth feast and party. The latest generations vaguely recall their ancestors' names who fought for what they believed or those who languished to liberate others. They'll not be able to account for a great grandparent who died among the 33,741 fallen in North and South Korea or the 47,424 who lost life and limb in Vietnam unless they've been told of such feats.

You see, the indifference didn't begin with the youngest, it began when former generations stopped talking about real heroes and decided current cultural icons deserved more respect than officers and gentlemen who gave their lives in battle. We run the risk of blinding our selves to valuable lessons and worthy examples when all we do is talk about the future and brag about the present. Our station in life is blessed because of those who faced persecution in the past. Our freedoms are enjoyed thanks to those who relinquished their own. This nation is strong as a result of the strength of character and fortitude of the fearless who stood for liberty and truth.

Though Patrick Henry did not die in battle, I believe his powerful words spoken Mar. 23, 1775 at St John's Henrico Parish Church in Richmond, VA, express the reason for such heroics.

“...The questing before the House is one of awful moment to this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery; and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth, and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings.

“Mr. President, it is natural to man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men, engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst, and to provide for it.

“I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past...

“...Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope, until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot? Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. The millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! ...

“...Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!”

Henry embodied the passion that pushes soldiers to prevail in dire circumstances. He represented the heart of freedom-loving Americans like the hundreds of thousands who faced danger bravely and succumbed to honorable deaths. There is never a generation that should ever forget! Our privileges come at a cost!

In addition to the 701,165 soldiers already mentioned who died in combat, let's remember the 5,067 modern-day casualties of war from the Persian Gulf, Afghanistan and Iraq; the 8,428 who gave their lives in battle in the American Revolution, the War of 1812 and the Mexican war; and the 344,959 in WW I and WW II. They fought for liberty and accepted death as the exchange for such a luxury. These valiant patriots deserve our grateful acknowledgment this Memorial holiday. Stop and count your blessings – 1,059,619 of them.

High Noon

High Noon
By Brenda Black

High Noon - The 1952 movie starring Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly is a western classic. Cooper plays Marshall Will Kane, a lawman torn between the love for his Quaker wife and duty to the town he swore to protect. But he faces the task alone as “cowardly townspeople flee like rats from a sinking ship,” describes one Netflix review. The entire story takes place in only 85 minutes as the clock ticks along toward the showdown at high noon.

The black and white epic is purportedly an icon of western genre movies and critics have heralded its cutting-edge theatrics to be well ahead of its time. Yet the intensity of 1950's Hollywood flick pales to the real life drama historically documented in Luke 23:44-45.

“It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining.” (Luke 23:44-45a)

The expression "sixth hour" refers to high noon! From the time of Jesus' abduction by the armed guard of the Jewish leaders, at about 11:00 PM of Nisan 13, till His final agony on the stake at 3:00 PM of Nisan 14, when He died, there is a total of 40 hours that Christ suffered. He endured 40 hours of imprisonment, judgment, trial, mockery, lashings, beatings, scourging, and painful waiting for final crucifixion.

Josephus, a first century historian, called it "the most wretched of deaths." I can't begin to even imagine it, but a prophet visualized it hundreds of years before it ever happened. “Just as there were many who were appalled at him — his appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any man and his form marred beyond human likeness--.” (Isaiah 52:14)

Isaiah also foretold of a future crowd's reaction: "He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering. Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

“Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows, yet we considered him stricken by God, smitten by him, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.” (Ish. 53:3-5)

In the title song from the High Noon soundtrack, Tex Ritter sings: “I do not know what fate awaits me. I only know I must be brave. And I must face a man who hates me...” Marshall Kane may not have known the outcome of his famous dusty road show down, but the Savior of man knew His destiny at Calvary's crossroads. He gravely anticipated the rejection of friends and His Father's forsaking. He walked the road alone while cowardly believers fled like rats from a sinking ship.

As the Light of the World faded, darkness covered the whole land. The sun hid its face for three hours and the world curled up in stifling silence. The tangible color of black and a muted creation was lit and awakened by one voice of courage and commitment when Christ uttered eight final words.

“Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” (Lk 23:46b)

Jesus faced his divine task alone. He faced the Enemy and gunned him down by giving His life instead of having it taken. His last words are not a cry of surrender to Satan or the sinful soldiers who gambled and snickered at his feet. His dying statement reveals the authority He held to give himself back to the God who sent Him to fulfill a promise to his creation. He gave away what they thought they were taking away from him, and the whole scene was altered by the One who could see ahead of His time and counted that time by divine calculations. In one moment there was a stand-off in the streets of Jerusalem between the good guy and the bad guy. The next moment Jesus simply opened his hands and dropped his weapon of supernatural status, leaving those who thought they had him red-handed and hung, shaking their heads in awe and wonder.

As the clock on eternity's wall clicks, the One who gave himself for you waits to forgive. He stands in the street alone, laying down his life to preserve yours. Christ proved his sacrificial love on a day when the sun stopped shining so you could experience eternity where night never falls.

This Easter weekend, please remember how Christ fought for you on Good Friday at High Noon.

Where did you find love this Valentine's Weekend

This weekend, I found love. I saw love on some dear faces and through innocent embraces. I felt love through selfless service and rediscovered true love from my sweetheart. After you hear where I found love, tell me where you witnessed love in action this Valentine's!

My husband and I visited with a sweet lady Friday night in the hospital, while she recuperated from a terrifying and near fatal bout with fluid around her heart. She told of the suffocating panic she experienced and then her emergency trip by helicopter. But when I looked into her eyes and held the hand of this incredible woman, I saw love. She focused on the bright side with delightful grace and thanked God for each little detail that helped her survive. She warmed my soul and showed me loveliness in its truest form.

We dined at a nice seafood restaurant after our hospital visit and loitered near the lobster tank with a standing, hungry crowd. While most of the adults avoided eye contact by staring at the floor, shuffling their belongings or talking on their cell phones, three little girls opened their arms and demonstrated unashamed love in the company of strangers. In a matter of seconds, the mini misses became bosom buddies by sharing their exuberance for claws and tails and the attention of one another. One embraced her companion and declared - "She's my best friend!" When the squeeze subsided, the third girl out asked, "Can I be your best friend too?" And all agreed. How lovely.

I watched a busy mother of five pack away four pans of homemade cheese cake she took the time to bake and deliver to the church. I watched a youth advisor slop spaghetti sauce for an hour and a worship leader inspire a group of teens to master music, comedy and compassion all for one night of worship. I witnessed a building filled with generosity and gratitude to support a youth missions trip and saw teens serve their elders. I saw love in action.

I just gave my hubby a silly card and we giggled as we plopped across the bed, not quite ready for the day to end. Then I opened a pastel pink and beautiful, lacy, white card filled with tender sentiment and honest devotion from my husband of 23 years. I melted into his arms where it felt safe and warm knowing he still thinks I make him complete. I'm glad I found true love.

Your turn!!!! Where did you see love?