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In Heaven

Megan Breedlove No Comments

Some days, heaven seems like such an ephemeral concept. I’m fully convinced that one day, one of two things will happen: either I’ll close my eyes on earth and wake up in heaven, or the Lord Jesus will return for His faithful at His Second Coming. But in the midst of the ordinariness of life down here, heaven sometimes doesn’t seem very tangible to me.

Please don’t misunderstand: I believe that heaven is real. I believe it’s an actual, physical place I will one day inhabit by the grace of God, along with others who have loved His Son and longed for His appearing. But does heaven feel real to me? Not always.

You see, the greatest thing about heaven is not just that I’ll get to avoid going to hell, which is also very real. The most mind-blowing thing about heaven is that I’ll get to live in the presence of God for all eternity and see His face. And that’s the difficulty. My mind is blown.

When I try to meditate on what it will be like to see the face of the One who died for me, I can’t truly comprehend it. I feel as if I’ve touched the lapping water at the edge of the seashore without being able to wade in. I’ve had a taste of the ocean, but venturing farther would overwhelm me.

Other things about heaven, however, are easier to grasp. Revelation 21:4 tells me that after God wipes all the tears from my eyes for what happened on earth, I will never cry again. Neither will heaven hold any more death, mourning, or pain in store for me.

Now that, I can imagine! I enjoy my life on earth—a lot—but it’s not perfect. At times, pain has intruded, and I’ve been hurt. I’d love to live in a place where I knew that would never happen again.

In heaven, I will, starting with the redemption of my body. I won’t feel physical pain anymore. I won’t get sick or suffer from allergies, the flu, or something worse.

My body will never be weak or tired. I’ll never have to haul myself through another day, weary beyond belief. I’ll never lack the energy to do the things my heart desires to do.

I won’t need bifocal contacts anymore. My knee won’t ache when the barometric pressure changes. My body won’t deteriorate as I get old. I’ll become—and remain—physically strong, healthy, and whole.

Not only that, but I’ll be emotionally unbroken. Instead of experiencing pain when I think about what was done to me, or what failed to be done for me, I will rejoice at God’s grace in carrying me through.

In heaven, I’ll never be rejected by someone whose acceptance I longed for. I’ll never be lonely. I’ll never be left out, misunderstood, or brushed aside. I won’t hurt anyone else, either.

I’ll never try my hardest and still fail, or find that my best efforts weren’t good enough. I’ll never be frustrated, discouraged, or at my wits’ end.

I won’t struggle to relate to God anymore. I won’t sin.

My heart will never be broken on my children’s behalf because of what they have to endure, because they’ll be there with me in that perfect place. My Savior is their Savior, too.

What will I be able to do? I’ll be able to eat my fill of bread without worrying what it will do to my blood sugar. I’ll be able to run from here to there without asthma squeezing my chest so tightly I can’t breathe. I won’t be allergic to strawberries.

I’ll get to be with most of the people I love forever. I’ll meet some I never met on earth, including my precious babies. I’ll relate to some people like I’ve always wanted to on earth, and I’ll talk with them in ways I’ve only dreamed of.

I’ll never have to say goodbye to loved ones ever again. I’ll never have to grieve over losing them, because there will be no more death in that place.

I will be constantly, completely, infinitely loved as the person God created me to be, and I will feel loved. Forever. For all eternity.

A heaven like that, I can imagine. That kind of place seems real.

I consider myself abundantly blessed in this life, but if it weren’t for the fact that my family needs me, I’d be ready to go Home now. As good as life can be at times, I’m more than ready to leave the shadowlands behind and enter the brilliant perfection of the Home I was made for.

Until then, when pain and grief assault me and I long for something better—something more—I’ll trust God to carry me through. Because one day, this life will be over, and I’ll be alive in ways I’ve only imagined.

I can’t wait.

Revelation 21:4—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.

Entitled

Megan Breedlove No Comments

I warn you: if you love baseball, this devotional is going to make you jealous. You might get jealous even if you don’t love baseball. That’s because…well, let me explain.

Recently, we received a very generous gift: four tickets to a major league baseball game. We were seated in the front row of the ballpark. Right. Behind. Home. Plate. Despite having ticketed seats, we arrived at the ballpark an hour before the game. That’s because a complimentary sirloin and seafood buffet was also included at a restaurant upstairs. After stuffing ourselves silly, we left the restaurant and proceeded toward the section where our seats were located. As we came to the top of the stairs, an attendant stood ready to check our tickets. The attendant looked at my ticket, smiled, and said, “Go on down!” He gestured toward the front row.

The section was pretty full, and as we walked down the stairs, we passed between rows and rows of people, all seated and waiting for the game to start. We kept descending, passing more and more seats. We walked right to the front row, where another attendant met us and checked our tickets again to make sure not only that we belonged in that section, View of Baseball Game from Front Rowbut that we belonged in one of the front two rows. The ones with comfy seats, and a game program, popcorn, and peanuts waiting for us. Where the aforementioned attendant would get us anything we needed throughout the game. We sat down in our seats and settled in comfortably, just in time to watch the first batter walk to the plate only yards in front of us.

Obviously, it was an amazing experience. It was one we never could have achieved on our own. But because of our friend’s gift, we belonged there.

Yet as incredible as this gift was, I’ve received one that’s even greater. So have you, if you’ve committed your life to Christ. When Christ is your Friend, you get far more than the chance to enjoy your beloved sport in grand style—you also gain access to God Himself and to His heaven. Someday, just as I walked into that ballpark, you and I will walk into heaven itself, and we will belong there. We’ll have a right to be there because Christ purchased our access for us. We’ll walk boldly not to the front row, but to the throne of grace. We’ll spend eternity not in the presence of an attendant who will bring us bottled water, but in the presence of the God who created water, and everything else that is.

Sometimes, we don’t feel worthy to enter God’s heaven and approach Him boldly. You know what? We’re not worthy. None of us can demand to sit in the front row because of who we are. We can only take our seats there because of who our Friend is. Likewise, when we have a front-row ticket, we shouldn’t be sitting up in the nosebleed seats because we don’t feel worthy to use the ticket. Again, it doesn’t matter one single bit who we are. Those attendants at the ballpark didn’t care who I was. All they cared about was that the person who purchased those tickets said we belonged. She didn’t say we belonged in the farthest reaches of the bleachers. She said we belonged right down there behind home plate. It would have been ridiculous for us to accept the tickets she offered, then refuse to sit where we were assigned because we didn’t feel good enough. She paid the price. She gets to determine who sits in those seats. Likewise, Jesus paid the price for those who believe in Him. He gets to determine that those people get to enter heaven.

The ballpark analogy falls a little short of the heavenly one, however. As amazing as those tickets were, they didn’t entitle me to access to the dugout or to the playing field. I couldn’t just waltz over, sit down by the star pitcher, and strike up a conversation. I would have been thrown out. Maybe thrown in jail. What Jesus purchased for us, however, allows us full access to heaven and, more importantly, to God. Jesus didn’t purchase one of heaven’s nosebleed seats (though even that would have been more than we deserved). He didn’t allow us to come only so far, but no farther. He purchased the best seats in the house: the seats right in God’s lap.

The luxury of that ballgame was a privilege to be enjoyed for a few hours, and then for all the times I will think of the memories we made there. But God intends for us to enjoy the magnificence of heaven for all eternity. The game’s never going to end. We’ll never have to leave. We’ll never pick our way through peanut shells and dropped coupons for free tacos, thinking that the experience was nice while it lasted. We’ll enjoy heaven forever and ever, and unlike a baseball game that might go to 47 innings, we’ll never become bored. Our delight will increase throughout all eternity.

This is what the old line in the song “Blessed Assurance” means—“oh, what a foretaste of glory divine”. Any pleasure we enjoy on this earth is but a dim reflection of the joy waiting for us in heaven. And if I enjoyed that game as much as I did, I can only imagine what heaven will be like!

Someday, I won’t have to imagine anymore. I’ll know what heaven’s like, because I’ll be there. You will too, if you’ve given your life to the Lord. Why, because we deserve it? No. Because our Friend has paid the price. Do you have your ticket?

Hebrews 4:14-16—Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

Cheeri-Uh-Oh’s

Megan Breedlove No Comments

Cheerio SpillThis morning, as I sat at the table eating my breakfast, I heard a familiar sound from the kitchen behind me.

“Uh-oh!”

Lindsey’s voice was accompanied by a brief whooshing sound. I turned to see her holding the box that used to contain Cheerios upside down. The aforementioned Cheerios were scattered all over the floor. Yep, the entire box.

Lindsey looked at me, her eyes open wide, her mouth a round “o”. I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

Relieved, Lindsey began laughing too. I ran for my camera to take a picture. “Wait! Don’t clean those up yet!” I called as I picked my way through the floor, trying not to mash any of the Cheerios.

I got my camera and captured the event for posterity. Then I said, “You know what? I have a great idea.”

“What?” Lindsey asked. She and Kenny, who was in the kitchen too, looked up at me.

“Let’s play with them,” I said.

They looked at me as if they weren’t certain whether to believe what they’d just heard. “What would we play?” they asked.

“Let’s get some little cars and make roads in the Cheerios,” I said.

“Yay!” they screeched, and ran off to get some Hot Wheels.

Playing in the CheeriosWe played “drive the cars through the Cheerios”, as well as “hide the cars under the Cheerios”, and other games involving Littlest Pet Shop toys and making letters (even cursive ones) out of the Cheerios. We had a LOT of fun for about an hour. (You should try it sometime!)

Sure, I could have gotten mad when Lindsey spilled every last Cheerio. After all, they were wasted. Or were they? Those Cheerios weren’t put to their intended use (except for a few that, yes, the kids ate off the floor). But they weren’t wasted. They provided an hour of fun and memories that will last a long time.

And that’s the point. No experience in our lives has to be wasted. It might not have happened as we originally hoped or planned, but it can still mean something—sometimes even something beautiful. God can take absolutely any circumstance in our lives and bring good from it. That’s what Romans 8:28 means—not that everything that happens to us is good, but that God can bring good out of all things.

He’ll probably require our help, though. Not because He’s incapable of doing things on His own, but because He usually doesn’t force His blessings on us. Just as He knew all along that those Cheerios would get spilled and we’d end up playing with them, so He knows regarding each circumstance of our lives what He intends to make of it. But if we’re still mad that the Cheerios won’t get to be eaten anymore, we’ll miss the beauty of the playtime and the memories. In other words, if we refuse to accept that God caused or decided not to prevent our original circumstances from getting messed up, and we decide to stay resentful or mad, we’ll miss what He does intend to make out of it.

Some circumstances are hard, I know. Maybe even very hard. But the fact is, they happened. The Cheerios got spilled. The original plan (eating them) is no longer possible. So now, we have a choice. We can either hold onto our anger that we’ll have to go to Plan B, or we can let our anger go. We can accept the fact that even though we didn’t want a Plan B, even though we don’t like Plan B, we’re stuck with it. And if that’s the case, we might as well make the best we can out of it.

The Cheerios are gone. It’s not possible to eat them anymore. The only thing that’s possible is to choose our attitude—acceptance or resentment at their absence. Which will it be?

Romans 8:28—And we know that all things work together for the good of them that love God, to them that are called according to His purpose.

Forgiving Ourselves

Megan Breedlove No Comments

This is the third devotion in a three-part series on forgiveness. If you have not already done so, you might find it helpful to read the first two parts: Forgiveness: What It Is, What It Isn’t and Forgiving Others.

There was once a young man who had everything going for him. He was smart, well-educated, and at least trilingual. He was the protégé of one of the greatest minds in his field, and he was being groomed to follow in his mentor’s footsteps. He was both a citizen of the greatest government on earth and an up-and-coming leader among his own ethnic group. He took part in some of the greatest political events of his day, and when that wasn’t enough, he began to orchestrate some of those events. The only problem was that he was also a terrorist. In fact, he believed he was called by God to destroy any of his fellow men who converted to a heathen religion. He made it his mission in life to hunt down and destroy those who had abandoned what he believed was the one true faith. As he became more and more successful in murdering apostates, he was given increasing power by those in authority over him. There was no stopping this man. His zeal for slaughtering those who opposed what he stood for became insatiable. Because of him, countless lives were lost and innocents executed. And he gave approval to it all.

Until, that is, he was met on the road to Damascus by the Lord Jesus. I’m writing, of course, about the Apostle Paul.

His name wasn’t Paul at the time of his Damascus trip, however. It was still Saul. And Saul was a brutal man, full of hatred for Christians, intent on destroying as many as he could, all in the name of God. It took a blinding encounter with the risen Lord Jesus Himself to change Saul’s heart.

I wonder how Paul must have felt when he realized the magnitude of the evil he had committed. Scripture tells us that he hated his sin, and I’m sure he grieved over the terrible things he had done and the awful consequences he had caused for those left behind. He must have grieved even more over what he had done to Jesus, whom he now knew and loved.

As he described himself, he was the least of all God’s saints because he had deliberately persecuted people for following Christ. He knew the vileness of his sin and must have felt it deeply. It would have been easy for Paul to spend the rest of his life wracked with guilt, unable to put it behind him, confronted with the horror of his sin at every turn.

Some of us know how Paul must have been tempted to feel. We, too, have something in our past—or maybe repeated somethings—deliberate acts which we now see for the awfulness that they were. Or perhaps we remember an innocent mistake that reaped horrifying consequences. Either way, we know what it’s like to buckle under the weight of the misery of our sin and be unable to rise. We know we shouldn’t have done it—whatever “it” was—but we did, and now we can’t change that fact. The only thing we seem to be able to do is to constantly, unremittingly condemn ourselves for our actions and grieve over the fact that what’s done can’t be undone.

We know we’re supposed to forgive others when they sin, but how do we apply forgiveness when the person we need to forgive is ourself?

To answer that question, let’s look at what Paul did. After all, he of all people had a reason to feel guilty: he had murdered countless human beings for being Christians. He had cold-bloodedly taken their lives because they loved the Lord Jesus. Yet instead of drowning in his guilt, he went on to write two-thirds of the New Testament and be perhaps the greatest witness for Christ ever. He became victorious in Christ. Many of us desperately need victory over guilt, too.

First, he repented and threw himself upon Christ’s mercy. He didn’t deny what he had done, or the depravity of it; he admitted it fully, as awful as it was. We, too, must admit what we’ve done—no excusing it, and no minimizing it. We need to see it and admit it for what it is—sin. Even if we didn’t purposely set out to sin, we must acknowledge any part of it that was deliberate, or that we could have caused to turn out differently.

Second, Paul accepted Christ’s forgiveness and spent the rest of his life living for Him. We must accept the forgiveness Christ offers, too. “But what I did was so bad, I can’t accept forgiveness,” we’re tempted to say. Remember, forgiveness isn’t given to people who deserve it. It’s given to imperfect human beings who need it. Refusing to accept Christ’s forgiveness isn’t really humility; it’s calling Christ a liar. After all, God says that whoever repents is forgiven, by His grace. We’re forgiven, whether we acknowledge it or not. When we refuse to believe that we’re forgiven, it’s like telling Christ that He’s a liar and didn’t really forgive us. “I want to believe it, but I just can’t,” we say. Sure we can. We can choose with our minds to believe that we’re forgiven even if our hearts don’t feel like it. When we accept forgiveness with our mind, feelings will follow. If we wait to feel forgiven, though, without first believing it in our mind, it will never happen. We must choose to believe what God says is true and not what we feel is true.

Finally, Paul made a point of using the memory of his sins as a reminder of God’s grace instead of a reason to condemn himself. Each time we read in Scripture that Paul remembers his sins, we also read that he turns the memory into an occasion for remembering and rejoicing in God’s incredible grace. I know this works. There was one time when I made an innocent yet terrible mistake that could have had horrific consequences. For a long time, each time I found myself in a similar situation, I would remember what I did and realize anew the awfulness of it. It wasn’t until our pastor preached on a similar situation in his life and told how he had handled it (exactly the way Paul handled it) that I realized what I needed to do. Each time I remembered my mistake, I refused to dwell on it, instead giving praise to God for His grace in what could have been a very bad situation. At first, it was hard to turn my thoughts away from what had happened and toward God’s grace, but with practice, it became easier. Now, when I remember it, I no longer feel awful. Instead, I rejoice in God’s grace. Whether your situation was a sin or a mistake, the same principle applies to you. Each time you remember what happened, refuse to dwell on the awfulness of it. Instead, magnify God and rejoice in His incredible grace. And let His grace motivate you to tell others about Him, so that they too can turn from their sins and be forgiven.

I don’t know what situation is burdening your heart. But I do know that God offers you forgiveness if you truly repent and turn to Him. I also know that He will redeem your memories so that they don’t cause you further pain but instead bless you with the opportunity to rejoice in His incredible grace. Why not run to Him right now? Let Him heal you. Let Him comfort your soul and set you free.

1 Corinthians 15:10—But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect.

Forgiving Others

Megan Breedlove No Comments

This is the second devotion in a three-part series on forgiveness. If you have not already done so, you might find it helpful to read the first part, Forgiveness: What It Is, What It Isn’t. Part three in the series can be found here.

Here’s where the rubber meets the road. We’ve learned what forgiveness means and what it doesn’t mean. We now need to look at how forgiving looks in our relationships with others. Of course, we’ll also look at what forgiveness doesn’t mean, because again, there are some very common misconceptions we need to overcome.

First, though, I’d like to share a story about forgiveness. It perfectly illustrates much of what we’re going to talk about today.

The story involves my son Kenny and his favorite toy at the time: his wooden train set. Kenny had a huge set of wooden trains, tracks, and various accessories. He liked to spread them out all over creation, building intricate layouts that covered more square miles than a real city. One day, he had created a metropolis in the highly-trafficked area between our master bedroom, bathroom, computer room, and guest room. His sisters were off in another part of the house playing a game that apparently involved lots of running around and giggling. I was sitting at the computer working a few feet away from Kenny when I heard Lindsey’s running footsteps getting closer. She darted into the room and right into the middle of Kenny’s train set, stopped, looked both ways, then ran back the other way.

“Hey! You stepped on my toy!” Kenny called after her.

She didn’t hear him. She was already on the way back to her own game.

Kenny waited briefly for her response, but there was none. So he called after her, “I forgive you!” and went back to his trains.

That, precious mom, is the nature of forgiveness. It involves knowing an offense has been committed, knowing that therefore, forgiveness is needed, and deciding to grant that forgiveness whether or not the offender even knows he or she needs it.

True, this is different from the forgiveness God offers, which comes only after sincere repentance. He forgives this way because His completely righteous, holy nature demands that sin be paid for. It’s His nature—and His job description—to require payment for sin. But it’s not our nature. And it’s not our job.

When we choose to forgive those who don’t deserve it, we reflect His nature and bring Him glory. Forgiveness for us does not and should not come only after payment has been made. We do not say to others, “You have adequately paid for your sin; therefore, I forgive you.” Instead, we say, as Kenny did, “You have offended me. But I forgive you, which means I choose not to punish you for what you did. And I do that so that I can move on.”

I want us to look at those two things today: what it means (and doesn’t mean) to forgive but not punish; and how we move on.

We’ve already talked about how it’s not our job to punish. Most of us would agree with that, at least in theory. But if we are not to punish the offender, does that mean we must seek an intimate relationship with the offender? Does it mean we need to act towards the offender as if he or she had never offended us? Not necessarily. For some offenses, yes. But for others, absolutely not.

For example, if I invite my best friend to come have lunch with me, and she accidentally steps on my foot on her way into the house, then yes, I need to let it go and not let it affect our level of intimacy. If my child forgets to put her bicycle away, that shouldn’t affect our level of closeness.

On the other hand, if—may God forbid!—someone were to molest one of my children, I would NOT seek intimacy with that person. I would NOT continue as if the violation had never happened. Instead, I would put safeguards in place for the rest of the offender’s life so that the offender could never hurt my child again.

So the first thing forgiveness doesn’t mean in terms of our relationships with others is that we don’t necessarily have to act as if nothing ever happened. Some offenses are simply too awful; some are ongoing, and we may need to erect boundaries, not for the purpose of punishing the offender, but for the purpose of protecting ourselves and our loved ones.

Another thing forgiveness doesn’t mean is that it doesn’t necessarily come as a response to the other person’s asking for forgiveness. Sometimes, your offender might truly repent and desire your forgiveness. Many other times, the offender might feel mere remorse, or perhaps not even that. The offender might not acknowledge the offense, or might deny that it was as bad as it was. But forgiving doesn’t mean you have to wait for that person to see the offense as God sees it. You can admit—completely independent of whether the offender agrees with you or not—that you have been sinned against. You can even admit how bad it was. After all, God knows how bad it was. You can agree with Him in this.

Now, let’s talk about what forgiveness does mean. We’ve said before that forgiveness means deciding not to punish the offender. That includes verbal comments, which means no snide or sarcastic remarks to or about the offender. These comments reflect bitterness in our hearts, which means we haven’t truly forgiven—we’re still holding onto at least a little bit of the idea that “he/she owes me something.” No deliberately excluding the offender from places you would normally invite him or her, unless that is necessary for protection. No rehashing the offense over and over in your mind or to others so they can be angry with you about how bad it was. Granted, there are times you will need to seek counsel or simply comfort from others when someone has offended you. But there is a difference between talking about the offense for the purpose of receiving comfort and talking for the purpose of stirring up your emotions so that you can feel righteously (or unrighteously) angry.

Forgiveness also means leaving the door open for a restored relationship as much as that might be possible. As we’ve said, there are some situations where that won’t be possible or desirable. But there are many other situations where if the person were truly to repent and demonstrate a changed heart, some degree of restoration might be possible.

One more thing that forgiveness isn’t—at least not necessarily. It may not be a one-time action. Forgiveness may very well be a repeated action. Every time the offense comes to our mind, we must continue to choose forgiveness and refuse to punish or to dwell on angry thoughts. That doesn’t mean we must forget what happened. It means we shouldn’t stew about it. We shouldn’t let it take control of our thoughts until it’s all we can think about, or until it begins to grow into bitterness. We must constantly and consistently choose forgiveness every time we remember the offense, and that may be hundreds or even thousands of times. Forgiveness isn’t easy. It always costs the one who chooses to forgive. It costs your “right” to punish, to demand recompense from the offender. It costs your thought life and your emotional energy.

With such a high cost, then, why bother forgiving? Because it’s even harder on you not to forgive. Continuing to hang on to the offense will cost your mind, heart, and emotions, but at a much higher level than forgiveness. To the degree that you have not forgiven, you will be stuck at that point until you do forgive. And if the offense is truly that bad, that’s not a point at which you want to be stuck.

God doesn’t tell us to forgive so that the offender can “get away with something”. The offender will not get away; he or she will one day answer to God for any offense against you. Rather, He tells us to forgive so that we can heal. He is the Great Physician, and He knows exactly what is necessary to heal a broken heart. He knows how to release us from the painful chains binding us to what happened to us. When we’re stuck, knowing we should forgive but not being able to, He’ll even help us do it. He’ll help us make that decision. And as we crawl into His lap and the hurt begins to flow away, He’ll hold us close and whisper words of comfort. I’m here. I will heal you. One day, you will be whole.

Psalm 71:20-21—You will restore my life again; from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up. You will increase my honor and comfort me once again.

Forgiveness: What it Is, What it Isn’t

Megan Breedlove No Comments

This devotion is the first in a three-part series on forgiveness. Part two can be found here. Part three can be found here.

Forgiveness. For many of us, merely reading this word stirs our emotions. We well remember the offense (or perhaps repeated offenses) that happened, making forgiveness necessary, and the pain of those doesn’t easily subside. Or perhaps the offenses are our own, and we can’t seem to escape the constant awareness of our guilt.

We know the Bible commands us to forgive; we just don’t see how it’s possible to truly let go of what happened. What do we do with the pain and the memories? How can we forgive something we’ll never forget?

They are important questions, and to some of us, the answers matter very deeply. We’ve experienced incredible pain that left its mark on our souls, or perhaps is still leaving marks. We desperately need to know how to live with what hurts so terribly without being destroyed by it. We’ve been told that forgiveness will help us move on. But we don’t know how to forgive, or whether we even can.

In this three-part series, we’ll look at forgiveness. This week, we’ll examine what forgiveness is—and what it isn’t. Next week, we’ll explore how to forgive others, especially when their offenses against us have been immense or are still ongoing. Finally, we’ll learn how to forgive ourselves for things we wish we’d never done, whether we did them by intention or by terrible mistake.

It will be a difficult journey. But the reward for truly learning to forgive will be freedom and healing. Will you walk with me as we begin?

If we want to cook supper, we first need to decide what we’re going to make. Then we’ll know what steps we need to take to prepare it. That’s why we’re going to look first at what forgiveness means. We want to know the end result. Then we can study how to get there.

Let’s take the analogy a bit further. Let’s say we know we want to make a cake, but we’re not sure what kind to make. We might eliminate the first several options we consider: no, I don’t want a German chocolate cake, a vanilla cake, or a strawberry cake. I know—I want a pineapple upside-down cake!

In the same way, we’re first going to discuss what forgiveness isn’t before we talk about what forgiveness is. We want to get some very common misconceptions out of the way so we’re not trying to accomplish something we were never meant to put into place. For example, most of us have probably heard the phrase “forgive and forget”. But that’s not a biblical command. That’s right; the phrase “forgive and forget” does not appear anywhere in the Bible. It’s impossible deliberately to erase memories that have haunted us. We might come to a point where we don’t think about them as often, but we haven’t forgotten them. Fortunately, forgiveness doesn’t mean that we have to forget something happened.

“Wait a minute,” someone might say. “What about that verse that says God removes our sins as far as the east is from the west?” The Bible does, indeed, say that. But that doesn’t mean that God forgets our offenses ever occurred. In fact, His decree that we need His Son directly depends on the fact that He knows we’ve sinned. Even after we’re saved, He doesn’t forget what our sins have been. He well remembers why we need Jesus. Removing our sins means that He relegates them to somewhere they can’t condemn us anymore. If His forgiveness doesn’t mean He forgets, then ours doesn’t have to, either. We can’t forgive “better” than God.

Forgiveness also isn’t saying that the offense really didn’t matter, or that what the person did was okay. What the person did was not okay. It was sin, and sin is never okay. When God forgives us in Christ, He doesn’t say that what we did was just fine. If it were, we wouldn’t need a Savior. Only seeing an offense as unjustifiable can make forgiveness necessary.

One final thing that forgiveness isn’t, is that it isn’t saying that we weren’t hurt by the offense. We don’t have to pretend that the person’s sin (whether someone else’s or our own) had no effect on us. In fact, we must acknowledge the depth of our hurt if we are to truly heal from it. God, of course, doesn’t need to heal, but He does acknowledge the depth of pain our sins have caused Him. Jesus broke down and wept at one point over how Jerusalem had turned from God. He quite clearly demonstrated God’s broken heart over our pain. Likewise, it’s okay for us to admit that we’ve been deeply hurt. It isn’t a sign that we are super-spiritual if we act as if we weren’t hurt; it’s a sign of denial.

Now that we know what forgiveness isn’t, let’s talk about what it is. The simplest way to explain what forgiveness is, is to say it this way: forgiveness means choosing to stop trying to make the person pay for the hurt they have caused you. It’s accepting the fact that you now have pain to live with, but refusing to punish the other person for what he or she has done. It means that you will give up your “rights” to punish the other person, and let God handle the situation.

For example, let’s say that someone steals a precious toy from my son, Kenny. What do I want Kenny to do? Do I want him to find his playmate and pummel him? Do I want Kenny to determine an appropriate punishment and then go administer it? Of course not. I want him to come to me and let me tell him what should be done. In that situation, I would try to help Kenny think about what happened and come up with an appropriate way for him to handle it. I might even help him address it. I would never tell him to go punish the other child himself.

Likewise, when someone commits an offense against us, we should bring it to God. God may direct us to do something to help resolve the situation, such as talk to the person. But He will never tell us to go punish the person ourselves. In other words, He tells us to forgive.

He doesn’t say, “Pretend it never happened.” Nor does He say, “That was no big deal,” or, “That didn’t hurt you.” He simply says, “Okay, you reported it to me. Here’s your part in how to handle it. Let me take care of the rest.”

For most of us, the thought of giving up our rights makes us feel vulnerable. Unprotected. Afraid. But we are never stronger than when we fling ourselves into God’s arms and feel His powerful embrace. We are not unprotected or unsafe. Almighty God Himself holds us close to His heart. He is more than willing—because He loves us—and able—because He’s Almighty God—to do the right thing in our lives. But we’ll never find that out until we try Him.

Let’s think about this for a week and ask God to let it sink deep into our minds and hearts. Let’s ask Him to grant us the grace and willingness to trust Him instead of ourselves. We’ll come back together next week to look at what forgiveness looks like in our relationships with others—and, of course, what it doesn’t look like.

I’ll see you then.

1 Peter 2:23—When they hurled their insults at him, he did not retaliate; when he suffered, he made no threats. Instead, he entrusted himself to him who judges justly.

To God Be the Glory

Megan Breedlove No Comments

Few things in this life leave me speechless. This video set is one of them. I hope they inspire you—as they have inspired me—to live your life to the glory of our Heavenly Father while we have the chance.

You should know before watching that Zac Smith died in May of 2010 after a year-long battle with colon cancer. He tells his story in the first video (filmed a few months prior to his death); his widow, Amy, tells her story in the second video.

The Story of Zac Smith from NewSpring Media on Vimeo.

A Story | Tears of Hope from NewSpring Media on Vimeo.

Job 1:20-22—Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped. And he said, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.” In all this job did not sin or charge God with wrong.

Proud

Megan Breedlove No Comments

I watch very few TV shows. I’m just not interested in most of what’s on. But the other day, I saw a clip on American Idol that did more than just capture my interest. It changed my life.

It was one of the audition episodes, where hopefuls appear before the judges, perform a short musical selection, and hope or pray that the judges decide the performer deserves a golden ticket, signifying that he or she has been allowed to advance to the next round of competition in Hollywood. Most of the auditions were standard fare—some good, some not so good. One of the good ones, by Chris Medina, was the one that stood out to me.

The reason it stood out wasn’t his singing, though he sang very well (and advanced to Hollywood). What made his audition remarkable was his story. Chris’s fiancé Juliana had been in a car wreck two months before their scheduled wedding date. The accident left her with little control of her body, unable to walk or talk without help, and even then, not very well. Chris explained that he had been prepared to make his vows to her when the accident happened, and asked the rhetorical question, “What kind of man would I be if I left her when she needed me most?”

After Chris’ audition, the judges invited him to bring Juliana in. She sat in her wheelchair as Chris pushed her into the room. She was leaning sideways. Her body shook. Her facial expression was wooden. But as the judges left their table and came to greet her, I was captivated by the look on Chris’ face.

He was proud.

Yes, proud. Proud of her as she was. Unable to sit up straight. Unable to talk. Unable even to change the expression on her face.

He loved her, even the way she was.

What changed my life was realizing that that is how Jesus feels about me. He loves me, and He’s proud of me, despite all my defects. He feels the same way about you. Though you and I have no merit of our own that would deserve His love, and though everything about us might seem to indicate that we’re unlovable, He still loves us.

He loves us, despite our physical limitations. Despite the fact that He does most of the giving and we do most of the receiving. Despite the fact that according to the world’s standards, we may not be much to look at.

And there’s something even more remarkable than that: He’s proud of us. Just as Chris was proud of his fiancé even when presenting her to some of the world’s biggest names and most famous people (the judges), God is proud of us. “She’s Mine,” He says. “She’s my beloved, and I’m proud of her.”

It would have been easy for Chris to be ashamed of his fiancé. Maybe even embarrassed. It would make even more sense if God felt the same way about us. But He doesn’t. Incredibly, amazingly, He doesn’t. Rather than be ashamed of us, He rejoices in calling us His own.

It’s the most memorable illustration of God’s love I’ve ever seen. And yet even as incredible as this love is, it is but a fraction of the love God has for you. Despite everything.

God loves you. He loves you. And He’s proud.

Hebrews 2:11-12—Both the one who makes men holy and those who are made holy are of the same family. So Jesus is not ashamed to call them brothers. He says, “I will declare your name to my brothers; in the presence of the congregation I will sing your praises.”

Biter Beast

Megan Breedlove No Comments

Pumpkin the CatRight now, as I type this, our orange kitten is lying peacefully in his kitty bed next to the desk, purring. He looks sweet and innocent. Calm, even. Peaceful.

But he’s hiding something.

You see, at any given moment, he will get up out of his bed, stretch, yawn, and somehow in the process transform into Biter Beast. Walk across the floor in your stocking feet? Good. Makes it easier for him to bite your toes. Sit down in a recliner? Great. Your legs will be at the perfect angle to expose your hapless ankles. You may not even see him coming. Sometimes, he’ll wait behind a piece of furniture for you to walk by, then dart out and intercept you for the attack. Or he’ll simply sneak up on you, so quiet you never heard him coming.

Is he a bad cat? No. He’s a kitten, and he’s not yet totally on the “people are for loving, things are for playing with” bandwagon. He’s not mean. He just sees people as toys, and doesn’t always understand that we don’t see ourselves the same way. Most of the time, he’s sweet, and he does put up with an awful lot from my four small children. He’s got a great purr, he’s cute, and he loves to curl up on your lap and just sit there. So, in order to have him, we take the bad—biting, litter boxes, and never being able to step away from our food for a second if we still want it to be there when we get back—along with all of the good.

Sounds kind of like what God does with us, doesn’t it? Just like we chose our cat from the city animal shelter, God chose us while we were unwanted. Even more amazing is that God adopted us into His family. Pumpkin is a part of our family now; we’re part of God’s. But perhaps most amazing of all is that even though we continue to cause God trouble, just like Pumpkin sometimes causes trouble for us, God still keeps us. He doesn’t cast us out of His family because we’re too much trouble. No, when God adopts us, He means it forever. He’s never going to give us back to Satan, no matter what we do.

How incredible is that? God didn’t have to save us in the first place. And He certainly didn’t have to give us repeated chances to live at peace with Him. Giving us even one chance would have been far more than we deserved. Yet He chose us knowing that we would act up sometimes, knowing that we’d make messes and cause Him grief.

But He didn’t choose us because we’re so wonderful. He chose us because He is. Not one of us was good enough on our own to deserve to be adopted into God’s family. Yet He chose us anyway. Yes, because He loved us, but also so He could display His amazing mercy in being kind to us.

There came a time, before things got better, when Pumpkin came this close to being returned to the shelter. But despite the fact that our offenses against God are far worse than Pumpkin’s misdeeds against us, we will never come this close to being removed from God’s family. He’ll never ask us to leave. We can rest secure in the knowing that His home is our home, both now and for eternity.

May our hearts be moved to amazement and incredible gratitude. He’s chosen us not just for now, but forever. We’ll never be unwanted.

Ever.

Ephesians 2:4-7—But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—

and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.

John 5:24—Truly, truly, I say to you, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life. He does not come into judgment, but has passed from death to life.

Green!

Megan Breedlove No Comments

My daughter Jessica’s favorite color is green. Other two-year-old girls might prefer pink or purple, but Jessica loves green. In fact, that’s why her unicorn name (when she pretends to be a unicorn) is Green. It’s also why she’s requested green frog gummies and green gum for her upcoming 3rd birthday.

Jessica also loves to be read to, and I love to read to her. I enjoy the moments when she snuggles up close and I get to introduce her to new sights, sounds, and experiences through the pages of a story. The other day, Jessica and I were reading together, and I pointed to the picture illustrating what was going on in the text. But Jessica was intrigued by it for another reason. “Look!” she said, jabbing her index finger onto a picture of a ball. “It’s green!”

The next page was even better. “Look!” Jessica said, pointing to a tree. “That’s green too!” She beamed, her eyes sparkling with delight.

I was delighted too, at the beautiful simplicity of her joy. It didn’t take something complicated to make her happy. All that was necessary was a simple discovery of something beloved right there where she could see it.

Why does it take more than that to bring us adults joy? Why don’t we experience the same enchantment on a regular basis?

Maybe it’s that simple things have lost their thrill for us. Maybe we’ve gotten so “mature” and grown up that we’ve lost our ability to take childlike delight in the simple things in life. We take far too many good things for granted.

I love the color blue. But do I ever stop to enjoy the blue things in my daily life?

I really love soft, fuzzy slippers. But do I ever stop to enjoy it when I slide my feet into a pair, or has the act of doing so become so routine for me that I don’t ever pay attention while I’m doing it?

I wonder what I might discover if I took the time to really experience things instead of just brushing past them in life.

What would you discover? You might get to remember how good it feels to pet a soft, wiggly puppy. Maybe you’d get to savor the sweet taste of a mug of hot cocoa. Or perhaps you’d enjoy relaxing as you chatted on the phone with a friend.

If we were to slow down and rediscover the simple pleasures in life, not only would we experience unexpected delight on a much more frequent basis, but our hearts and minds would be drawn to the Creator of all these things. I know that when I really enjoy something, my heart is moved with gratitude to the One Who created all things and blessed me with the enjoyment of them. It’s a sweet, intimate fellowship when I agree with God that His creation is wonderful, enjoy it, and thank Him for it.

I know how much I like it when my children delight in something I’ve done for them. God loves it, too, when His children truly rejoice in His blessings in our lives. Even the simple ones. Maybe especially the simple ones.

Let’s ask God to open our eyes for us to all the pleasures of His creation. Then, let’s spend as much of the day as we can in delight and gratitude. It won’t be hard. There are myriad blessings out there, just waiting to be appreciated. And who knows? Some of them might even be green.

1 Timothy 6:17—Command those who are rich in this present world not to be arrogant nor to put their hope in wealth, which is so uncertain, but to put their hope in God, who richly provides us with everything for our enjoyment.

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