What was it that moved my deepest emotions yesterday!  It was a short film titled “The Shepherd” made by Angel studios that produce The Chosen; the latter is the title of Christian films on the stories of the Gospels. The main character in the film was a poor limping young shepherd. He was rejected by the elite priest of the local synagogue and even deemed as an outcast by the group of shepherds he was with. One night, when this poor shepherd was told to go and eat his meal some distance away from the presence of the other shepherds, God decided to send his band of angels to joyfully proclaim the birth of the Baby King in the manger.  The lonesome poor shepherd viewed the angels, astounded and excited because of the joyous commotion in the sky. He was the first one running to see Baby Jesus. On his way to the manger, he let go of his crutch and was healed of his affliction. In the film I could see his beaming face finding the Holy Child with Mother Mary. 

In spite of my faith in the story of the angels’ news of Jesus, I had thought that this year I would not get a live Christmas tree, because of the tragic and inhuman ongoing wars in the Middle East and Ukraine. When will it all end! Did not the angels say in their praise songs “Peace on earth”?   

This all changed when my blind friend called, It was only few days earlier she invited me to her tiny house to show me her decorated Christmas tree.  I did share with her all my grief and sadness. She listened with care. ”Why not get a Christmas tree?” She said, “the Christmas tree is for you and for Jesus.”  Now it is standing by our bay window with its colorful lights and handmade ornaments collected within the past years. 

How I wished my sister would have been here beside me this Christmas. I am not the only one who wished to have the shared joy of a family sibling. Some weeks ago I called my Jewish friend who lives in my neighborhood. I asked her about her sister’s wellbeing in Israel. She said that a missile had nearly fallen on her sister’s living space, but it was intercepted. I told her how I missed my own sister in Lebanon, and how I yearned to be near her, yet I could not go.  

We understood each other’s hearts. Our sisters’ countries are not at peace with each other, but my Jewish friend and I remain friends. 

 

The Crepe Myrtle tree in my front yard has blossomed in bold profusion of bright pink flowers. They were not there in the months before. They go and they come back. Oh but when the goings or comings break the normal expectations of life, with bitter pain, then sorrow shatters my heart. My phone calls were not answered, neither were the text messages returned, I did not think of death, I thought my friend had traveled to Texas, to visit her family. No wonder Paul the apostle in the Bible calls this abrupt severance of life “the last enemy.”

I hate death, even the death of Sevoug, our darling black cat. I was crying in our kitchen all by myself, when suddenly an unseen presence pierced the small room. I was not used to such intrusions, but that presence brought an unusual peace. Like a quick lightning, a thought occurred in my mind, “I am making all things new.” I knew who had said those words. Could Jesus even care for the grief I felt over the dying of our cat?

More than any other time in my life, I lived through a sense of peace so utterly tranquil, that outwheighed my understanding. It was when my mother lay on the hospital bed, bereft of life and any communion with her family, her friends and her church. Her face looked calm, I was alone in that room. I felt no sorrow yet, no dread or confusion in that sacred segment of time . As if the God I trusted had prepared me to witness my mother’s motionless body. I sat on a chair beside the bed. The nurse had left the room and closed the door. Soon I noticed my mother’s hymnbook. I reached and took it in my hands, I opened page after page; each hymn that I sang was in a melody unknown to me. How long was I there alone singing, an hour or more? I put the hymnbook down and started calling the rest of my family to notify them of her departure from this world. Her going was timely, she was ninety nine.

I was at my window watching the torrenial rain when a pair of chipping sparrows flew to rest between the slanting roof over our front patio and the post that supports it. The rain fell with an unusual cold for Southern California. Then came the Spring and stopped the pelting downpour.

One of my neighbors claimed that those heavy rains were due to chem trails. He explained what those chem trails were. So much power and unleashed knowledge I thought, for using our freedom to do good or not to do good. I had told this neighbor about my view of the Light of God in the Bible that helped me see.

Why would He become a human being? Such is love unthinkable to me! Truth is truth; this happened to me: As the prophet Isaiah wrote, He carried my iniquities and infirmities. This love prompts me to believe the prophet’s words. I say yes to the Son of God for the possible good I would think, speak or do.

I may soon hear the call to leave this earth, even though I’d rather stay on. Someday I shall meet the One who became the Saviour of the world, Jesus the unconquered King. But for now, I acknowledge my fallenness and receive His love that liberates my sinful heart.

I say “yes” to God.

This church was in a small quaint building. When I entered in, the music team was already singing. I sat on the fourth row with the brown wooded pew. The wall behind the podium was also in that rich brown wood. Above the podium was a stained glass window. In it was the painting of Jesus in bright colorful clothing. His hands were extended out, as if telling me how welcome I was for Him. I kept glancing at this stained-glass window on and off while the service was in motion.

When the sermon began, I was drawn to the genuineness of the Pastor preaching. At times listening to the words of Scripture, I sensed a kind of joy that Elizabeth may have felt when she meets Mary with Jesus in her womb. One of the happy Christmas stories in the Gospel. He was preaching on one of Paul’s letters to the early church. I had read and reread those verses just recently in the New Testament of the Bible. I recalled how they had come alive to me like the warmth of a campfire in a cold night.

The service ended. I stood up where I was seated, and began looking around hoping to see the couple who had invited me to their church. Most of the people were leaving slowly the church. Some others still remained inside, in twos or threes talking. After lingering a few more shy minutes, I walked out of my pew slowly towards the middle aisle. Three women still seated on their pew, were talking in low voices. One of them looked at me and smiled; I smiled back.

I took timid steps towards the back of the church. As I approached the main door that exits to the street, a pastor and his wife welcomed me in a genuine friendly exchange of conversing. Then saying bye-byes to each other, I went out with a satisfied heart.

The above is a new edition of my story, and a new title. My first version was written fast and untidy.

I corrected my grammatical errors, and made my story a shorter version of it. All together, more poignant,

Have you lost your cool in the middle of a Bible Study? I have. We were a small group of six or seven of us gathering in the same Coffee Shop week after week for almost two years. The thread of my temper had been worn out due to some family conflicts. One of the younger participants, with whom I have had amicable conversations on other occasions – became visibly embarassed by my loudness. She said in her obvious fluster: “Calm down, this is a public place and we are Christians, please sit down.” To no avail. I had passed the threshold of utter frustration. I was misunderstood.

On the following week, I went back to the Coffee Shop. I gave each one my apology for my agitation. They each cordially welcomed me. A few months later, at the same Bible Study, I found myself in a similar predicament. I said to them, “I have to leave.” I walked out of the coffee shop. The following week, I proclaimed another round of heartfelt apologies. Since several weeks now, I have stopped attending the Bible Study. Not for the reason of my outbursts, but for replacing that time in solitary prayer. I was facing a fog of intense sadness. I felt that I had failed God in all my endeavors.

I scheduled meetings with God. Some nights, I would wake up and read His words from Scripture. I would ask Him to quiet my mind, so that I could hear Him speak to me. This went on for several days. There was Karina* who would pray for me when my endurance would fail. I had prior prayer contact with her, I knew that God’s holy Spirit lived within her. She would reply to my texts anytime I needed her praying. I texted her, “Karina, can you call me.” My cell phone rang. She began to pray like Abraham who was a friend of God. She told Him plainly what I needed, intermingled with simple analogies of word pictures.

Then one day, like the sun rising with radiance, the Light of Jesus shone all around me. My whole being sensed the joy of His presence. I knew I had to go on, having a fresh gift of faith, letting go of whatever He showed me to be useless in my life. I knew He had the grace and the power of His Spirit to support me to live as He desired. What love! God the Father in heaven helps me believe again, I thought. I wanted to keep on staying in close contact with Him. The Bible verses began to penetrate my soul with the Creator’s vibrant voice, I shall keep company with Him.

• Name changed

This deep sighing sorrow for severed relationships,

upset hearts in need of silence to hear Him speak,

the Holy One who said “My peace I give to you.”

Hearts cannot hear the Father’s pleading, still He waits;

Who is right, who is wrong, why succumb to error?

Is not the Light visible, will we let darkness in?

Come mighty Spirit of God, give us the faith of the Son,

Let us exchange our deathly doubts, to His words unchanging.

Come bless the Name with holy angels, raise your voices and sing

to the One worthy of honor, the Faithful, the soon coming King.