Three Steps to Hope

Posted by RJ Thesman

Psalm 37 has long been a favorite passage. Outlined and highlighted in various versions of my Bibles. A familiar place to reflect on the variety of its meanings.

This year I returned often to verse seven and found a three-step formula to ease me through the cold gloom. A stairway opened toward Hope.

Be Still. The exact opposite of how so many of us live our lives. Until we are forced by sickness or vacations or circumstances to stop the frantic pace.

But more than a physical slowing down, this concept shifts us back to first gear. The ‘Be Still’ step indicates a mindset reboot.

To cease striving for perfection
To stop trying to figure out why prayers are not answered
To trust that a higher motive will provide the acceleration when it is time to move or change

Being still is that place of ultimate trust where we rest in the love that will not let us go. And know that God’s desired outcome will be the best for us.

Wait Patiently for God. Many Type A’s like me do not do well with the idea of waiting. It feels too passive. Too scary to wait until someone else or something else determines a direction.

Yet this waiting is not a passive work, for patience requires an inner ‘whoa’ when we most want to act.

Patience again reminds us to trust the process. To be careful with our interpretations of ‘Go.’ This waiting determines to be grateful for the pause. Sincere about letting God’s work have its ultimate timeline.

This step forward lives without regret because we anticipate the day we can say, “Oh, that’s why it took so long.”

Do Not Fret. ‘Fret’ is rather an old-fashioned word, but I like it better than ‘worry.’ It implies more anxiety, an actual mind-racing and finger-snapping type of stress. Like the worry stones we used to wear down with our thumbs.

Like when my mother said, “I’m sure stewin’ about that.”

To cease from fretting means we inwardly step back. Let our worried souls unplug. We purposely commit to be still. To wait patiently. To move to the place where we no longer even think about the problem.

To not fret takes an intentional leap toward a trustful gratitude. It releases the problem and refuses to grab it back. It believes the issue will eventually resolve as all problems must — one way or another.

Be Still. Wait Patiently. Do Not Fret.

Three steps that lead us toward a hope-filled peace. A result that creates healthy soul care when we need it most.

Follow these three steps through the devotional book, Day by Day: Hope for Senior Wisdom.

Hope Searches for a Song

Posted by RJ Thesman

My deck umbrella waves in the slight April wind as I ponder in its shade. God has granted a beautiful spring morning. A time for reflection.

So beautiful outside yet not so lovely within.

Every stinkin’ day for several weeks, some type of something has gone wrong. It seems as if my life is shadowed by chaos.

My dryer stopped heating.
My emails stopped sending.
The cat’s breast cancer rapidly accelerates. Grief threatens.
I miss my son.
My team lost in March Madness.
My back fence succumbed to the Kansas wind and collapsed in the grass.
Identity Theft from my taxes has caused a whirl of challenges.
My car developed a strange online feature that needed a reboot from the mechanic.
My phone is elderly and starting to show its need for a younger model.
A client is suffering, and I grieve with her.
Et cetera

And yes, I know others are struggling with much worse. Whenever I see a report from Ukraine, I want to grind my teeth. Except the dentist said I should not.

‘Count it all joy,’ the book of James demands.

I am not in a joyful place. It worries me that my joy is so affected by temporary circumstances. How will joy then appear when something more dreadful happens?

‘Come unto me,’ Jesus said, ‘all who are weary and heavily burdened. I will give you rest.’

Not the rest that revives during a week in the New Mexico mountains. But the emotional and lovely rest of a contented soul.

I think of several brave women I know who live with chronic pain. They must find their joy even within the midst of the struggle. Every. Single. Day. They give and live and do what they can while setting healthy boundaries. My she-roes, every one of them.

But I cannot reproduce what they own. My joy button needs to be re-set, and I cannot find the mechanism.

I DO know joy resides within me. This fruit of the Spirit is guaranteed to Jesus followers. So I struggle to find it on this beauteous April morning. Somehow, just knowing God is present with me and around me causes a sudden blip of peace.

The author of Psalm 68 urges me toward nuggets of hope:

Let the uncompromisingly righteous be glad. Do not compromise my own joy with a focus on the bad stuff.
Let them be in high spirits. Maybe a piece of chocolate or a glass of red wine will bring those high spirits? Neither of these treats grace my pantry, and I don’t feel like driving to get some.
Let them rejoice in God. Keep journaling about gratitude for what DOES work in my life.

So I try to ignore the taunts of discouragement, realizing writers often morph into melancholy. Especially when we are about to write something important. Hmm – maybe this is a spiritual attack on my creative juices.

Instead, I focus on the positives of my life. Speak words of gratitude for a beautiful day, for seeds sprouting in my window, for the promise of spring flowers that will cheer me.

Ignore the frailties of my humanity and instead remember ‘the same power that raised Jesus from the dead lives in me.’ Awesome thought.

There it comes —a bubble of joy. It resurfaces and lights my inner core with its purity.

God sends the sound of a goose to make me laugh. A chickadee feeds on my deck, his black and white wings beating in worship. God’s presence begins to rise within. I praise him for this alpha moment and hope it will keep rising.

Joy responds as Hope returns.

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Hope Within the Emptiness

Posted by RJ Thesman

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, we focus on gifts, decorations, activities, and family gatherings. Many denominations make Christmas the most ‘wonderful time of the year.’ Yet for Jesus followers, our focus should be that empty tomb. The Lenten season leads up to the hosannas of Palm Sunday, the tragedy of Good Friday, and the silence of a grief-filled Saturday.

But Easter Sunday is much more than a smoked ham, deviled eggs, and children searching for hidden treasure all over the yard.

The reason we celebrate Easter is because it represents the most amazing and highest form of miracle we can imagine. Death loses. Life wins.

I have often wondered how the Resurrection of Jesus actually happened. Did Father God come down and peer at the bedraggled and bruised body of his son? Then breathe life into him like he did for the first Adam?

Did Jesus begin to feel each cell take on energy and warmth, wake from his stupor, and climb out of his grave clothes? Or was it truly like what is often depicted in pageants and films?

The huge stone rolls away and SHAZAM! Out pops the actor who plays Jesus. No longer bloodied and battered. Clothed in a startingly white robe with a cheesy smile on his face.

Did the real Jesus jump up and run around, so glad to be out of that cold sepulcher? Or did he quietly emerge, notice Mary Magdalene’s sobs, and slowly approach to comfort her?

The point, of course, is not how but Who. Of all the religious leaders throughout history, Jesus is the only one who came back to life. The only one who even dared to prophecy that he would be raised after three days (Mark 9:31).

If it wasn’t true, surely by this time, someone would have traced down his DNA and speculated where his body lies. But for those of us who have experienced the soul-saving love of God, we are certain of the facts. The baby of Bethlehem’s Christmas became the Savior on the cross and the resurrected Jesus who is still alive.

But an even greater truth brings me pause. The same power that brought those cells back to life lives in each of his followers (Ephesians 1:19,20). We, too, can look forward to a stunning resurrection, to leaving our fragile bodies behind, and springing forward into eternity. SHAZAM!

On the hard days when life’s chaos seems too heavy to bear, I think about that truth. Sometimes, I even speak it out loud, “The same power that catapulted Jesus out of that tomb lives in me. In the end, life wins.”

So let’s celebrate the eternal hope that the empty tomb offers. Let’s spend Easter as a day of gratitude. A day when we remember that because of Jesus — we live.

He paved the way. He made it possible for us to live in freedom. He offers eternal life to anyone who dares to believe.

While you’re waiting for that final resurrection, find encouragement in Day by Day: Hope for Senior Wisdom.

Hope in the Cross

Posted by RJ Thesman

Throughout history, man’s inhumanity to man has manifested in various ways: the Trail of Tears, the Holocaust, and brutal executions such as crucifixion.

We sometimes glorify the cross as a beautiful symbol. Symmetrical. A lovely collection of cross décor on our walls. Jewelry we wear to show what we believe. Decals on the car.

But to move through the Lenten Season and truly understand what it meant for Jesus to complete his mission, we must pay attention to the horror of crucifixion. When we know what Jesus suffered for us, we can be more grateful for how he died.

Dr. Cahleen Shrier, associate professor in the department of biology and chemistry at Azuza University, presents an annual lecture: The Science of Crucifixion. Based on historical data during the time period of Christ’s death, Dr. Shrier lists the following:

In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus sweat drops of blood. This condition, hematohidrosis, breaks down the capillaries that feed into the sweat glands. The result is that the skin becomes more tender, which would later exacerbate the pain Jesus suffered.
Pilate ordered Jesus to be flogged, whipped with leather strips that contain metal balls and sheep bone. The flogging left Jesus’s back in ribbons. His blood pressure plummeted, so his body went into shock. Extreme thirst was a natural response to this loss of blood.
The crown of thorns, pushed into Jesus’s head, caused more blood loss. It also likely affected the facial nerves, causing pain in the neck and head.
The Persians designed crucifixion between 300-400 BC. Usually reserved for slaves, revolutionaries, and vile criminals.
- The victim was thrown to the ground where dirt mixed with his blood.
- His arms were stretched across the horizontal beam and spikes (7-9 inches long) were nailed into the wrists.
- His knees were bent, then his feet were nailed to the bottom of the T-frame cross.
- As he was lifted, the weight of the body dislocated the shoulders and elbows. Talk to any athlete who has suffered a dislocated shoulder. They will tell you about the excruciating pain.
- To breathe, the victim moved up and down, trying to fill the diaphragm with air. Carbon dioxide built up in the blood, and the heart beat faster. Since Jesus had already been flogged and his back opened, splinters and dirt from the wooden beam likely entered his system, causing sepsis.
- Fluid built around the heart and lungs causing more damage to the heart. In severe cases, the heart burst.
- With collapsing lungs, dehydration, a failing heart, and the inability to breathe — the victim basically suffocated or died of a heart attack.

Because Jesus was a flesh and blood human being, he suffered all of the above. The fact that he survived for approximately six hours is due to the fact that as a craftsman of wood and stone, he was in good shape. He was a young man who walked many miles with his disciples and ate a Mediterranean diet.

But crucifixion was designed to kill, and Jesus died on that cross. Add to the physical side effects, he also suffered emotionally and spiritually. An innocent victim of proud religious leaders and a culture that did not understand the purpose of his mission. Throughout decades of prophecy, the Messiah was designated as a great leader who would free his people. However, the Jews misunderstood what type of freedom Jesus would win for them.

It was not a freedom from their Roman occupation. It was not a miracle of moving them from poverty to prosperity. It was an eternal hope that would destroy forever the need to be perfect and keep all the religious laws.

The writer of Hebrews says it well, “We have been made holy through the sacrifice of the body of Jesus Christ — once for all” (Hebrews 10:10 TNIV).

Because Jesus became the perfect and final sacrifice, all people of the entire world have an opportunity to spend our eternities in a perfect environment of love and grace. The crucifixion — as horrible as it was — offered us a gift. A once-for-all-time invitation to believe in a better way.

During this Lenten Season, spend some time in gratitude. Visualize the cross, not as a beautiful symbol, but as the weapon used to kill your Savior. Listen to He Loved Me with a Cross by Larnell Harris. Then do what Jesus asked on his last night with his friends, “Remember me.”

For an easy-to-understand manual about the love God offers, check out Uploading Faith: What It Means to Believe.

Hope in the Humanity

Posted by RJ Thesman

We do not focus a great deal of theology on the humanity of Jesus. Yet we know he lived and died as a human being.

The television series, The Chosen, has brought more of the human physical and emotional characteristics of Jesus to the forefront. Maybe this series has become so popular because we needed to experience and understand that Jesus was more than the Son of God.

As we move through the Lenten Season, let’s focus on some of the main themes in the humanity of Jesus.

Family. Jesus lived in Nazareth in the middle of a family unit. Scholars believe his step-father, Joseph, died young which would mean Jesus was raised by a single mom, Mary. He was the firstborn which carries a heavy load of responsibility, especially if he took on the role of man of the house after Joseph died.

Did Jesus teach his brothers, James and Jude, about the craftsman trade? Did he make toys for his sisters and tease them like brothers often do? I like to think he acted like a normal boy, adolescent, and teen.

What were the family dynamics he experienced? A normal family deals with arguments about who does the chores, teasing siblings that turns ugly, laughter and sorrow, visits with cousins and other family, holiday celebrations especially the many Jewish traditions such as Rosh Hashanah and Passover. Jesus would have experienced all these and more.

We know his family did not readily accept him as God’s Son nor follow him as disciples (John 7:5), which brings us to another aspect of his humanity.

Rejection. Most of us have experienced rejection of some sort. The bullies who tormented us at school. Not feeling ‘in’ with the popular crowd. The date for prom that never happened. The rejection slip from a publisher after years of effort crafting our words. Divorce. Downsizing at the job. Children who turn away from our kisses as we drop them at school.

Rejection hurts and can result in emotional scar tissue.

What did Jesus do with those moments of rejection, especially the final betrayal of disciples not brave enough to follow their Master to the cross? And because he was considered an illegitimate child, he experienced the rejection of his community, especially the religious leaders (John 8:41).

I’m sure rejection hurt his heart. Like us, he had to learn how to deal with rejection and not let it change his authentic nature. He had to learn how to hold his own when others betrayed him. How to be who God created him to be. How to move past the deep hurt and not let it sway him from his mission.

Was there another human who could speak into his hurt and help him deal with it? Or did he have to struggle alone?

Loneliness. Multiple scriptures underscore the isolation of Jesus. Alone in the wilderness with Satan’s constant attacks. The times Jesus left the crowd to be alone and pray. The loneliness of the garden when his buddies could not stay awake and pray with him.

The fact that he was a maverick with a different agenda fostered the loneliness. No one quite understood what he was all about and what he was trying to do. He was alone in his commitment to follow God’s will. Being alone, whether physically or philosophically, fosters loneliness.

His plaintive cry shows evidence of that loneliness during the last supper. “Remember me,” he pleaded with his friends.

Jesus becomes more of a personal Savior when we realize he suffered like we do. He lived as a human, so he surely struggled with childhood illnesses. Growing through the hormonal ups and downs of puberty. Struggling to breathe as the sepsis of crucifixion took its toll.

God did not rescue Jesus from the ravages of being human. In fact, Jesus was perfected because he suffered as a human, experienced the hurts, and completed his mission.

Before we can understand the totality of his sacrifice, we need to realize how fully human Jesus was.

Then it brings our relationship with him into greater focus. He understands us. He gets us. As fully human, he chose to live with us and become brother, cousin, friend, son, and craftsman. To place himself under the tutelage of Joseph and Mary. To be trained as a creative artist in wood, stone, and clay. To endure the same things we are asked to endure simply by being human.

This human Jesus willingly chose to spend 33 years on earth so that we could experience the expanse of God’s love.

For a simple way to examine faith topics, check out Uploading Faith: What It Means to Believe.

Hope in the Ashes

Posted by RJ Thesman

Ash Wednesday this year, 2023, was the first time I wore the ashes cross on my forehead. It was deeply meaningful.

I did not grow up in a religious tradition that included the ashes-on-the-forehead practice. In the buckle of the Bible belt, it was considered too ‘Catholic.’ But many of those traditionally legalistic beliefs have changed, recognized for what they were — a type of judgment and spiritual abuse.

Now that I attend a more liturgical and inclusive community of Jesus followers, I am open to accepting new ways of growing my faith. So I attended the Ash Wednesday service with my son and found it to be spiritually uplifting while at the same time a poignant reminder of what the day means.

Our service was filled with beautiful music and a sense of emotional loss. We were, after all, entering the season when that incredible God/Man died a brutal death so that we could be accepted into God’s loving arms.

Then toward the end of the evening, each of us walked forward to receive the ashes. The gentle touch of my pastor’s thumb pressing into my forehead. The warmth of her flesh against mine. Her soft voice, “From dust you came. To dust you will return.” My imagination of what the cross must look like on my skin. The tears that caught in my throat.

Then later, looking at the reflection of the cross of ashes in my bathroom mirror. Accepting the truth about the final state of my body. Having just completed all the paperwork for where and how my own ashes will be buried, this cross was a visual of my final act.

A reminder that death precedes eternal life. But ashes can also evoke a positive response. Used as mulch to produce new life. Beauty from dust. The ending and the beginning. Alpha and Omega.

Still, the writer in me wanted to know more. What was the origin of this practice? What is this visual and sensory act intended to mean for Jesus followers?

With a bit of research, I learned the following:

The practice of a cross of ashes on the forehead began in the 8^th century with the Gregorians, a community of Anglican friars.
It did not become a widespread part of American religious tradition until the 1970s.
The ashes symbolize penitence, being sorry for how we have ignored God and mistreated others — the basics of sin.
They are also a reminder of the brevity of our lives, of our mortality. We are not self-sufficient enough to forgive our own misdeeds. Jesus alone owns the power to transform us.
The ashes are made from the previous year’s Palm Sunday branches. Oil is often added to make the ashes stay on the forehead longer.
For many people, the ashes are an outward sign of their faith walk. An organic method of exhibiting our beliefs. A bit more meaningful than random cross jewelry or cross tattoos.
People often begin religious conversations when they see someone with the ash cross on foreheads.
The practice has become a symbol of the beginning of Lent. A time to remember what Jesus did for us. How much he gave up for us. What the cross truly symbolizes.

We should never look at a cross without remembering how it represents a brutality of torture unacceptable in our world of civil rights. The ashes bring us into the Lenten season as a more gentle reminder of what Christ’s sacrifice means.

And for me, that cross of ashes on my forehead represented a type of spiritual growth. Of accepting one of the more traditional practices within a modern world. Of opening my soul even more to consider the liturgies of other denominations.

Of expanding my intention to make this year’s Lenten season a time to remember Jesus.

Consider the women who loved Jesus and followed him to the cross. The Women of Passion Week

Hope Conquers the Chaos

Posted by RJ Thesman

As a writer, observation is one of my tools. Awareness of this tool causes me to listen for dialects as people talk and later incorporate those rhythms into the characters who people my novels.

Observation notes interesting quirks such as the depth of a dimple, a spontaneous laugh, or fingers drumming on a barn wood plank. The benefits of observation add color and texture to my words without plagiarizing on the lives before me.

Observation also pays attention to whatever presents itself. Sometimes a graphic or a word suddenly surprises with its potential. I see it, reflect on it, and journal through it. Soon it becomes a theme, a sentence that stretches into a paragraph or a graphic that morphs into a blog post.

A recent graphic read, “All great changes are preceded by chaos.” No attribution, but the words pummeled into my soul like a snare drum in the early morning fog of band practice.

Chaos in the Journey. How appropriate is chaos for describing the journey so many travel. Years ago, the chaos of searching for a church forced me to consider the depths of my spiritual hunger. What my faith taught me, either wrongly or with stunning accuracy.

The journey and the change — the processing of who I am at the core flattened me. I landed on my knees. An appropriate stance for any soul-seeker living in chaos.

Gradually, the chaos eased as I settled into a choice. Replaced by the peace that passes all understanding. My decision radiated with joy, maybe because of the choice. Maybe because the search had ended — for a time.

Many of us live in various chaotic circumstances. We find ourselves restless, seeking change yet dreading the chaos. We feel the rumbles of chaos in our nation. Within our churches and our jobs. Within the rollercoaster of the stock market.

We face the certainty that the current chaos will indeed result in some kind of change.

Chaos in the Circumstances. Aging seems to magnify change. The power of observation settles more deeply in my soul as I recognize the changes.

As Mom journeyed through Alzheimer’s, changes in her routine created anxiety. So we had to carefully monitor her daily choices, then made the choice of assisted living that took most of her options away.

The chaos of her changes continued even as we walked through that final change of moving Mom from the facility to the cemetery.

The Divine One warns, “Everything will change. The foundations are shaken.” (Psalm 11:3)

Perhaps the circumstantial chaos that threatens our world these days will result in a global revival where we perceive each other through a different lens. Would it not be wonderful if skin color no longer divided us into urban and rural, poor and rich, dead and alive?

Would it not be beautiful if denominational chaos resulted in the search for the depths of God’s love rather than the judgment of our religious differences?

I so wish change would eliminate broken children, abused women, and toxic relationships. Please God, let it be.

Yet experience teaches that change cannot occur without some sort of chaos. Change implies growth and as we stretch — albeit with resultant pain — we can eventually grow stronger.

May God help us as we face whatever chaos is ahead. May each of us find our own place within this changing world and make it a better place to call home.

And may we stay in hope that after the chaos fades, peace will be restored.

As we move into the Lenten season and you seek a reflective heart, check out The Women of Passion Week.

RJThesman.net

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Author: RJ Thesman

Three Steps to Hope

Hope Searches for a Song

Hope Within the Emptiness

Hope in the Cross

Hope in the Humanity

Hope in the Ashes

Hope Conquers the Chaos