Fix Your Face

A recent sermon at my church was about the aroma we emit as Christ followers.  Some people draw others to them, while some may be repulsed.  Of course, this is not an actual smell, but is indicative of our behavior, words, and attitude.  As I listened to the pastor, illustrations kept popping into my head (that happens a lot) of what he was talking about.  

Here’s one of them.  

The story is told that during Thomas Jefferson's presidency he and a group of travelers were crossing a river that had overflowed its banks. Each man crossed on horseback fighting for his life. A lone traveler watched the group traverse the treacherous river and then asked President Jefferson to take him across. The president agreed without hesitation, the man climbed on, and the two made it safely to the other side.  Somebody asked him: "Why did you select the President to ask this favor?" The man was shocked, admitting he had no idea it was the President who had carried him safely across. "All I know," he said, "is that on some of your faces was written the answer 'No' and on some of them was the answer 'Yes.' His was a 'Yes' face."

Every time I hear this story, I wonder if others think I have a “yes” face.  

I used to work at an appliance store.  I shared an office with my boss in the back.  One day I recognized the customer’s voice.  I could hear the discussions.  She wasn’t pleasant.  And since I saw her regularly at church, I knew what her face looked like.  She always looked mad.  My boss commented on the conversation that was occurring.  I explained I knew that person because she attended my church.  He was called out to the floor to answer some questions and then returned to our office. I’ll never forget his comment.  

“If she calls herself a Christian, she should tell her face.”  

Again, I ponder what message my face is sending.  

A few years ago, one of my daughters moved to the south.  Colloquial expressions vary from region to region.  One comment she hears quite often is “fix your face”. This is usually said by a parent to a child.  Perhaps the facial expression is inappropriate.  Maybe it shows they have an attitude or a scowl.  

I have to admit; I want to say that to some people occasionally.  

Others can tell a lot about us even before we open our mouth.  If we are a Christ follower, they should get a whiff of the love and hope of Jesus emanating from our lives. 

How’s your face?

“To the one we are an aroma that brings death; to the other, an aroma that brings life.” 2 Corinthians 2:16 (NIV)

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Taking Care of the Temple

Except for the time I was gravely ill and lost down to 106, I’ve had a problem with being overweight. Years have passed with the yo-yo in place.  Losing.  Gaining.  Losing.  Gaining.  And with the life-impacting issues I’ve had the last few years, I just couldn’t care.  

I now care … again.  

I decided to actually experience how much 40 pounds weighed.  That’s how much I needed to lose.  I drove to a sporting goods store and walked to the aisle that had the handheld weights. I picked up a 10-pound one.  It was heavier than I thought it would be.  I needed to lose four of those.  There was no way I could carry four of them in my arms. And sporting goods stores don’t have grocery carts.  Back to the cashier I went.  

“I need help.”  

Boy was that an understatement … for more than just carrying those weights.  Each day I traveled on my two feet with 40 extra pounds.  I bought the weights.  Again, I asked for assistance to carry 40 pounds to my car.  He gathered them in his arms and easily took them to the car for me.  

When I arrived home, I removed the weights one at a time and took them in the house.  Finding a sturdy cloth bag with handles, I placed the weights in the bag … and tried to lift it. 

I was appalled.  Each day I burdened my body with that much heaviness.  

Overweight can cause many problems … knees, heartburn, high blood pressure … need I go on?  I’ve managed to escape those so far. 

I can report I’ve taken one 10-pound weight out of my bag.  The 30-pound bag is still appalling.  

I have a lovely house.  And I do maintenance on it to keep it that way.  If I let it go, there would be issues.  Again, with my car.  I meticulously take it for service and make sure it has the correct gas in the tank. 

My body is the temple of the Holy Spirit.  Yet I abuse it.  

Temples are sacred and very well maintained.  Shouldn’t I at least do that with my personal temple?  

There is no preaching going on here.  I’m putting my thoughts about me on paper. I hope to remove the next weight in another month.   

“Doyou not know that your bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?” 1 Corinthians 6:19 (NIV) 

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Yea Though I Walk ...

In May of 2012, John and I began a journey we didn’t want to take.  It involved the word cancer … in John’s body.  We gave the journey to God. The first two years were a roller coaster of good days, bad days, chemo, radiation and choices regarding medications.  It’s a tough situation to be given the option of a drug that will prolong your life … but costs $12,000 a month.  

We didn’t go there.  

That last year things changed.  He became unsteady on his feet, falling repeatedly. His energy depleted to the point he could no longer work.  He said, “Somebody pulled my plug.”  Food tasted like cardboard.  With his strength gone, he sold his motorcycle and then his car.  

I watched as he diminished day by day, but from the day of his diagnosis to the end, we had unexplainable peace.  He completed his journey in May of 2015.  

And now … I’m on that journey again.  Only this time it is our dog, Charlie.  

In October 2018, Charlie had a groomer appointment. It was unusual to get a phone call from her while Charlie was still there.  They had discovered a minute discharge from his rectum.  Perhaps it needed to be looked at.  The vet worked him in after hours that same day.  

He had a tumor.  

November 1^st a biopsy was performed.  November 12^th, we received the diagnosis. Once again, I was dealing with cancer. Charlie was given two months.  

There are many parallels in these journeys.  As Charlie diminishes, I have memories of John. I have struggled … and my comfort has been food.  I had no peace.  Two nights ago, I sat by Charlie on the floor.  He hadn’t eaten in two days.  All he did was lay there … the tail not even wagging.  

That’s when I gave the situation to God.  I would do for Charlie what I could to keep him comfortable and feel loved.  The rest was not up to me.  For the first time since this journey began, I had peace.  

But there’s more.  

Someday it will be me on that journey.  As I sat there on the floor, I gave that journey to God too.  Just as He provided a strong support group for John, He will for me. It’s a journey we all have to take.  

We can have peace then too.  

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.” Psalm 23:4 (ASV)

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December 3, 2018 - a Significant Date

In May of 2013 my husband and I gave a party to celebrate John’s cancer being in remission.  In front of our friends we exchanged vows and placed new matching wedding rings on our fingers.  We announced we were now ready for our “bonus” round. For two years we traveled, laughed and loved.  

A few days after his death, I entered a jewelry store and inquired about etched wedding bands.  It was suggested I go to Walmart for that. Even though that seemed below my worthy cause, I did.  I purchased a Tungsten band with the words “always and forever” etched around it. Then I slid it on my wedding ring finger.  It seemed a bit crowded there, but it contained the message I wanted.   

Five months after his death, I traveled to Israel.  I had longed to go there, but John had never had that desire.  It was everything I had dreamed it would be.  And I wanted a souvenir to remind me of Israel … and my love for John.  My big purchase was a silver ring with the words “I am my beloved’s” etched in Hebrew. I placed it on my right hand. 

I’ve worn that Israeli ring for three years.  Suddenly, it began to irritate my little finger.  I could feel no rough spots, so tried to ignore it.  It worsened.  

On December 3, 2018, as I sat on a bench in my closet preparing to put on my shoes, I placed my hands in my lap.  And I contemplated.  Was I willing to keep wearing something that could possibly cause a skin issue?  

I removed my Israeli ring. 

As I held it in my hand, I was flooded with memories of who I was with, where I was and how I cried when I put it on my finger in Israel.  Why would it suddenly cause an irritation?  My eyes were drawn to my hands in my lap.  My right hand seemed naked … and my left hand seemed crowded with two rings.  Did I dare remove one?  

More contemplation.  

Without any emotion, I slid my wedding ring from my finger … the one placed there by my beloved.  It seemed this was the next step in my grief journey.  But what to do with it now?  Since his death I have worn John’s wedding ring on a chain around my neck. It seemed appropriate to place my wedding ring on that same chain.  Since my ring was smaller, it nestled nicely within his. Perfect.  I could feel John’s approval.  

My grief journey has been taken with baby steps.  It’s a journey that can’t be forced … and it is different for everyone.  

I’m pleased with my progress. 

 “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 16:22 (NIV)

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