Though and Yet

‘Though the fig tree does not blossom and there is no fruit on the vines. Though the product of the olive fails and the fields yield no food. Though the flock is cut off from the fold and there are no cattle in the stalls . . . ’ (Habakkuk 3:17 Amplified).

Sometimes we think the Old Testament has little to offer in our modern 21st century world. I beg to differ. Most of us are living in some sort of ‘though.’ Some more intensely than others.

Image attributed to: Geralt

Below is my offering:

  • Though the Oklahoma wheat crop — our family farm — is dying, turning yellow from the drought
  • Though counties around the farm grow lush and green from clouds of rain while our county remains cracked dry
  • Though evil continues to win its earthly battles
  • Though groceries and gas prices continue to rise but income does not
  • Though chaos explodes around us every day
  • Though government systems still do not ‘get it’ and fill the air waves with empty promises
  • Though babies are shot through car windows
  • Though deception digs deep and destroys logical thinking
  • Though groups of believers suffer from the consequences of one person’s sin
  • Though my prayers go unanswered after years of lament and pleading
  • Though illness threatens the corners of life in spite of healthy lifestyles
  • Though God continues to practice patience when everything in me screams for justice

‘Yet I will rejoice in the Lord. I will exult in the victorious God of my salvation. The Lord God is my Strength, my personal bravery, my invincible army. He helps me make spiritual progress even in the places of trouble, suffering, and responsibility’ (Habakkuk 3:18-19 Amplified).

  • Yet the true God is the One I have chosen to believe
  • Yet Jesus is the final vindicator
  • Yet justice, mercy, and peace will eventually define us
  • Yet God can restore what has been stolen
  • Yet the provisions I need will somehow show up just in time
  • Yet government systems are mere shadows of God’s eternal design
  • Yet truth is still stronger than deception
  • Yet God can heal at any time and in any way best chosen for the situation
  • Yet the Creator God creates in me
  • Yet God’s patience is a precursor to his merciful justice
  • Yet the Almighty Peaceful One sustains me within the chaos
  • Yet God loves every one in the entire world
  • Yet God can rain down his blessings of moisture at any moment and create a storm out of a tiny cloud
  • Yet even when the harvest does not show up, God can still provide
  • Yet even though it sometimes feels naïve, I will continue to believe in the abounding love of God

The Old Testament prophet concluded with his belief system, and so can we. All it takes is merely gutsing out a germ of faith. We can find our hope by living in the ‘Yet.’

©2023 RJ Thesman – All Rights Reserved

For more information about faith, check out Uploading Faith: What It Means to Believe.

Hope Offers Support

A fist of fear pummeled my soul. I was startled by its intensity and for several moments — forgot to breathe. Started to feel dizzy. Finally gulped draughts of fresh air.

Why the fear? A doctor visit was imminent. One of those visits that might be serious or only slightly serious — depending on the results.

And I knew I could not do this alone. So I called my son. “I need a favor, honey.”

Image attribution: ua_Bob_Dmyt_ua

“Sure.”

Even the sound of his bass voice reassured me. “Would you go with me to the doctor? I don’t know why. I just need someone with me today.”

Again, “Sure. Glad to.”

My heart stopped its thumping romp as fear eased.

He stood with me as I checked in, followed me into the sterile room, and provided another pair of ears to listen carefully to the doctor’s orders. Then he helped me gather my purse, all the paperwork, even my water bottle.

The prognosis, “Nothing serious. We’ll try the pills first, and then go from there.”

Did my son hear the same words I heard, the ones I hoped for? Yes. It was good to have another voice to confirm the answer.

At the pharmacy, he helped me pick up the meds. Then we shared supper and watched Sports Center back in my living room.

Somehow, just having another human being beside me to share in the fearful possibilities lightened the load. Felt like healing itself.

“It will be okay, Mom.” The same words he spoke fourteen years ago when I held his hand before brain surgery. When they cut open his precious head and removed that nasty tumor.

When life hands us its unraveling, we tend to suck it up and march forward. Find power in our own strength and the fortitude it takes to just keep living.

But sometimes — when the possibilities of a painful test loom big, when the trial unravels into fragments of unknowns and sucker punches us into silence — we need someone beside us.

Yes, we trust God. But we also need living, breathing human beings to encourage us. To hold our hands. To tell us it will be okay. To love us with the love of Christ.

I was so grateful that day for my boy — this now grown man whose presence exuded strength and calm. This tower of humanity who has himself survived cancer and experienced his own miracle. He did not laugh at my need or seem distressed when I swallowed tears and hung on to his arm. He simply let me ride through the storm with his presence beside me.

Every day since then, he checks on me. “Do you feel better? Are the meds working? Are you being careful to monitor reactions?”

This reversal of roles seems too soon in my journey. I do not yet feel old. I only feel older.

But every day I give thanks. Treasure the gift that is my son and remind myself again — I am not really alone.

Hope breathes through connection.

For those who live in a secure relationship, be grateful. For those who soldier on in solitude, find a connecting place. An encouraging pilgrim. And if you know another soul who marches with an individual beat, offer to be there when needed. To provide the reassurance that someone cares.

We need each other, even when we feel strong and healthy. Vulnerability will inevitably intrude. That is when we find out who really cares.

©2023 RJ Thesman – All Rights Reserved

Check out the book my son and I wrote together. Uploading Faith: What It Means to Believe.

Hope in the Cross

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.”

©2023 RJ Thesman – All Rights Reserved

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

Hope Beyond the Stereotypes

Perhaps it is the coming of winter that causes moments of reflection. Or the new journal I use to record my thoughts. Or the writer in me who MUST write in order to process life. Whatever the origin, my reflection turns to a time-honored quote.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge reminds us how the Jews honored the name of God. They would not purposely step on a piece of paper, in case it contained the name Yahweh. He suggests we should apply this practice to how we treat others.

“Trample not on anyone. There may be some work of grace there, that thou knowest not of. The name of God may be written upon that soul thou treadest on. It may be a soul that Christ thought so much of as to give his precious blood for it. Therefore, despise it not.”

This not trampling on anyone sounds like an easy goal. A worthy purpose. Yet when I see the blatant evil perpetrated by some, it seems impossible.

How can I love every soul, no matter what they choose to do? How can I honor the second commandment of Jesus, to love others as I love myself?

  • Even the evil ruler who is bombing the life out of the citizens of Ukraine, for no other reason than to garner for himself the trophy of another country?
  • Even the knife-wielding radical who stole the eye from a courageous author who dared to confront the inequities of his religion?
  • Even the abuser who torments a puppy, then kicks it out onto the street?
  • Even the man who threatens his wife and children, using his second amendment rights to weaponize their home?
  • Even the religious leader who uses his bully pulpit as a tool for control?
  • Even the woman who allowed her boyfriend to kill their child in one of our Kansas City neighborhoods?
  • Even the murderers of 14 year-old Emmett Till?
  • Even me and the self-righteousness legalism fostered in me?

When I cannot do anything about these horrors, how do I respond? How can I pray? And how do I live in these perilous times to make sure my home is safe yet offer grace to others?

I flip the page on my journal, still not satisfied with how the processing of this question is going. For such a quandary, there surely is no easy answer. For all sin is the practice of ignoring God, and all of us have been guilty.

Some of us just hide it better than others.

Were it not for grace, any of us could be included in the above bullet list. The giving of grace seems so easy for Almighty God who loves unconditionally. Yet it did cost the life of his Son. No easy road there.

And I admit I am still learning how to receive and gift this same costly grace.

What will it cost me to release my stereotypes of these people who choose evil? Will it be to remember that trauma often begets trauma, that evil can multiply through the generations? That people who are raised without knowing the love of God will therefore act like satan?

When did it become my responsibility to judge another? Never. Not even when it became personal to my family, to my soul.

For if Christ died for me, he also died for these others who choose to ignore his grace. And his infinite patience is somehow allowing them the time to make another choice, to open their souls to his healing grace.

It is in the patience of the timing that I am stuck. When, God, when?

So although I find no answers, I will choose to live each day trusting the One who knows not only the answers but all the relatable questions.

And I will embrace the backward living suggested by Father Richard Rohr. That instead of trying to think my way into a new way of living, I should instead live myself into a new way of thinking.

Have mercy on us, oh God.

©2022 RJ Thesman – All Rights Reserved

Uploading Faith addresses such reflective questions, especially for those who seek answers.

Finding Hope When You’re Stuck

So many people I know are stuck — waiting for an answer to prayer. The answer that will help them move forward or make a life-changing decision. Even a little boost to nudge them out of the rut.

They have prayed, fasted, cried out to God and yet — nothing. The silence, the no-answer, seems laced in the question, “Where is God?”

What is the block? What is holding back the answers? Is it just a matter of timing or something much deeper and more important?

The requests of these folks are not for wealth or a better car. They ask for direction and wisdom, for a simple interview that might lead to a job, for a roof over their heads or a definitive place to worship.

But silence echoes in eerie response. Almost as if the back story of the 400 years of silence between the Old Testament and the coming of the Messiah is being replayed.

The dark night of the soul when God seems to be in hiding and we are left to wallow in our frailties.

But hope determines God has not disappeared. Nor is he uncaring. He may be silent but still at work — behind the scenes. Moving puzzle pieces together, then declaring the perfect time for an amazing reveal.

So what do we do when the answers refuse to come? When we feel stuck in an eternal calendar where nothing flips us to the next section?

  • Keep believing God WILL answer — in his time. Patience, dear friend, patience.
  • Keep praying because God honors persevering prayer. Stay in hope.
  • Know God has a plan and he promises it will be a good one. Stay in trust and believe even in the unseen.
  • Understand that every season — even seasons of waiting — will eventually end. Keep hoping for your tomorrow.
  • Remember we cannot see every detail that relates to our prayer requests. We cannot know the eternal value or the sacred reasoning behind life’s waiting rooms. Mary and Martha did not understand why Jesus waited to heal their brother. A greater miracle was on the horizon.
  • Post this verse where you can see it every day: “There is a happy end for the man of peace” (Psalm 37:37 Amplified). This verse has seen me through various waiting periods.

Hope continues to believe, especially when we cannot see how our faith works. As we believe in what we cannot see, we can know a facet of eternal value exists. Even though none of the waiting makes sense.

In the meantime, hope continues — one whispered prayer at a time. Keep believing in that happy end and in the One who will someday make it happen.

©2022 RJ Thesman – For more encouragement, check out Uploading Faith: What It Means to Believe.

Hope Defeats Fear

monarchDuring the sixth month of my pregnancy, I waddled outside. The June sunshine brightened my colorful zinnias, so I parked my lawn chair beside the garden and carefully arranged myself within its plastic womb.

Six months. Three more to go. We had made it past the danger zone — those first 12 weeks when this baby’s siblings slithered out of my body and died.

This child seemed stronger, a prototype of health according to sonograms and medical opinions. Yet a niggle of fear colored my days. Things could go wrong so quickly. Hadn’t the past pregnancies taught me that truth?

I dozed, then woke to the sight of a colorful monarch resting on my belly. His wings pulsated, his russet eyes steady on my face. I tried to breathe silently, barely moving lest he leave and break the spell.

The baby kicked, but the monarch rode the wave. Extra flutters of his wings yet a determination to hold on.

A verse I had read that morning filtered through my mind, “Though a thousand fall at my side, though ten thousand are dying around me, the evil will not touch me” (Psalm 91:7 TLB).

Thousands of women lost babies every day. I had been one of them, but not this time. The monarch seemed to tell me, “Hold on. You’re almost there. It’s safe to believe.”

That amazing insect stayed on my belly for the entire afternoon. Precious hours as the two of us communed. A concrete reminder that life would be gifted for my baby and me.

When my son was born in November of that year, the summer sun was long gone. But not the truth of that amazing experience.

Even now, 33 years later, when I see a monarch — I smile and whisper a thank you for the hope that butterfly brought me.

Then I find my son for a quick hug.

©2019 RJ Thesman – All Rights Reserved

That same son edited our newest book, Uploading Faith: What It Means to Believe.