Salvation | All is Well

Fighting Evil with Hope: A Reaction to Events in Charlottesville

August 13, 2017 By Shelly Durkee

Really, I have no words worth reading, on the subject of the hatred and murder that we’ve witnessed today, in Charlottesville, VA.

All eyes have turned to this state that I live in last night and today, as a “Unite the Right” rally was held by so-called “white nationalists” and other alt-right and far right groups.

And, I almost didn’t write any words, as I’ve read news story after news story, about the evil white supremacist (calling it what it is, folks) rally held last night and today, and the violence that has led to the death now of 3 individuals, and has left several others injured.

Instead I’ve cleaned house, walked/ran 5 miles, studied for a certification test, cleaned house some more, walked some more, ate too much—all while my heart and soul and stomach have churned, and I’ve tried not to write about this because, really, what difference does my words make on a day like today?

I’m white, living in a safe neighborhood. I have never experienced racism or hatred against me. I have never feared for my life, based on the color of my skin. I have dear, dear friends who have lived in this terror, but I personally have no idea what that feels like.

I’m not a police officer, or the family member of one. I have dear friends who are, but I have never experienced fear for my life, as I tried to protect protesters and counter protesters alike, on horrific days like today–and I’ve never had someone come to my door to tell me that my loved one died in the line of duty.

I’m not a politician, charged with the responsibility of leading a nation, state county or city.

I’m not a historian, armed with the knowledge of the sins of our past.

I’m not a journalist, with a first-hand view of the sins of our present.

I’m not a teacher, with the responsibility of teaching this nation’s children that all hatred is wrong.

I’m not a theologian, charged with the duty of teaching the scriptural doctrine of God’s love for all people, without qualifications.

I’m not a pastor, with the weighty responsibility of standing in a pulpit tomorrow morning, and declaring to their congregation scriptural truth, regarding the sanctity of all human life, and proclaiming that racism is evil.

I’m only a mom of four kids, living in a small house, with a dog named Biscuit. I have no words of worth to add to the rhetoric being poured out about the events in Charlottesville today.

And so I almost didn’t write about this–I tried not to write about this–yet here I am, writing about it.

Because writing is how I process life in this world.

And because I am a mom of four young adults.

And one of the most frightening things I saw today, in the picture of the alt-right/far right-wing groups gathered today for their “Unite the Right” so-called “rally”, was just how young they looked, standing there last night, with their ridiculous, mosquito-repellant back deck porch “torches”.

What scared me about their youthfulness is this: they have long lives ahead of them, to perpetuate this evil, unless we–all of us–all ethnic groups, police, politicians, historian, journalists, teachers, theologians, preachers–and moms–and dads–and grandparents–do not stand up to these privileged white “children”, and tell them, “No.”

No, we will not let you promote your evil agendas.

No, we will not sugar coat it.

No, we will not dismiss it as you “exercising your right to protest”.

We must call it for what it is–racism–and stand up to it. Peacefully, because violence only begets violence–but firmly. Unwaveringly. Steadfastly.

And, reassuringly.

How does the act of reassuring fit into the mix of what our response should be, as evangelical Christians?

Because, we are called to share hope with the world–all of the world. And that hope is truly the only reassuring and healing salve to the gaping wounds that are being inflicted by evil.

That presentation of that hope is not a weak response, in the face of racism. Instead, that hope is found only in the love of Christ, who laid down His life as a sacrifice for our sins.

That is not weak.

That is strength that we can not even begin to understand.

And, that hope–the hope of this mighty Gospel–is not a hope for “all sides”, because in the shadow of the cross, there are no sides.

So while it may seem as if there is nothing I can do to help defeat this evil, I know that is not truth.

I can teach my young adults what love for all looks like–and encourage them to grow up to be the exact opposite of the young adults who stood in Charlottesville with their torches, chanting white supremacy slogans. And strongly admonish them, should they ever display anything except love and respect for all people.

I can pray real prayer–not only for those who suffer from the throes of racism, but also for those who embrace such hatred, because they suffer as well, from something dark and sinister that may ultimately lead to an eternal suffering for which there is no description.

I can stand with those who fight injustice and evil, in any way that I can.

I can stand against injustice and evil in any form. I can stand firmly and resolutely against all white supremacy behaviors, and any acts of racism, no matter the form it takes.

And I can deliberately share the hope of the Gospel, and offer the reassuring salve of healing that Jesus procured for us when He died upon the cross, and I can demonstrate this hope through obedience to the words Jesus spoke, found in John 13:34-35:

34 A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. 35 By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Some folks that I respect greatly, have shared words today that far more accurately express the truth of the hope of the Gospel, in light of today’s events in Charlottesville. I’d like to share them here, for your consideration, because they have captured this hope, and our responsibility to share that hope, better than I ever could:

From Matt Chandler:

In all of this, for the black and the white (and every other color), our only hope is the gospel. Until there is an acknowledgement of privilege and repentance for discrimination, the kingdom and what God has purchased for us in Christ isn’t going to be displayed and lives are still going to be destroyed. It’s systemic, historic and horrific. Might we be men and women with calloused hands and knees as we seek the Lord for racial reconciliation. -Matt Chandler

From Al Mohler:

“Racial superiority in any form, and white superiority as the central issue of our concern, is a heresy. The separation of human beings into ranks of superiority and inferiority differentiated by skin color is a direct assault upon the doctrine of Creation and an insult to the imago Dei—the image of God in which every human being is made. Racial superiority is also directly subversive of the gospel of Christ, effectively reducing the power of his substitutionary atonement and undermining the faithful preaching of the gospel to all persons and to all nations.”

From John Piper:

The bloodline of Jesus is thicker, deeper, stronger than the bloodline of race, ethnicity and family.

From Jesus:

For God so loved the world, that He gave his one and only son, that whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life. (John 3:16)

Today is Different (Valentine’s Day Thoughts)

February 15, 2017 By Shelly Durkee

It’s Valentine’s Day.

I’ve always found this day to be cheesy. Over-rated. A money-making marketing ploy by Hallmark and Russell Stover Chocolates, and florists everywhere. It’s nearly as commercialized as Christmas has become–I walked in to the grocery store this morning, only to see hearts and balloons and roses and candy everywhere I looked at the front of the store. And, a steady stream of mostly guys—picking up last-minute bouquets and reading a card, putting it down, picking up the next card, reading that card, putting it down….that cycle of trying to find just the right balance of cheesiness for their sweethearts.

It kind of makes my eyes roll, and heightens my already heightened sense of cynicism.

Of course, why was I at the store? Yep. To pick out balloons and small gifts for my crew, for Valentine’s Day.

And I slapped my gifts down on the conveyor belt at the cash register (which, by the way, had been decorated by the cashiers–the sides were wrapped in pink paper, and a sign had been made that stated “Cupid’s Express Lane.” For the love of all things roses and hearts, please stop…..), with a curmudgeon sigh.

Valentine’s Day. Humph.

But this afternoon, I’m rethinking things a bit, as I scroll through my Facebook feed (because we alllllll know that Facebook gives us an accurate view on life, right???? Am I righttttt?????), and I’m seeing post after post after post after post of sweet (and, um, cheesy) sentiments between husbands and wives, girlfriends and boyfriends, and even parents and children–all extolling sugary love towards each other.

And the cynic in me wants to hate it.

Except I don’t.

In fact, I’ve enjoyed every single post. Every mushy declaration of love. Every picture “framed” by pink and red hearts. And, I’ve “liked” probably a few dozen–which is very “unlike” me.

Some have made me sad. It is always hard to read the posts from couples who have been married for 25-30 years; a painful reminder of a grief that will never quite go away, over the loss of a marriage that was supposed to be for a lifetime. A painful reminder of the cost of sin and betrayal and abandonment.

Some have made me sad–as widows or widowers have expressed grief and a deep “missing” of their soul mate. One, in particular, broke my heart, as I read the post from my high school chorus teacher, whose dear husband passed away peacefully this very morning, as she held his hand. Heartbreaking.

Some have made me sad, as I’ve read posts from those who are single and who feel the sting of a day meant for those who are not single. There is an intense loneliness in singlehood. It is deep and aching. I’ve heard it in the voices of friends who have never married. I’ve seen it in the eyes of those who have been in relationships that have ended–whether married or dating. And, I’ve experienced it intensely myself, in the years since my ex-husband went to prison. For some, this day is very painful; and it is like salt in wounds when they/we hear things like, “God has the perfect person out there for you, somewhere!” To which singles everywhere want to say, “Is he directionally challenged? “Cause I’m standing right here!!! How hard can it be, to find me??”

So, yes, there is some sadness. Some melancholy. But this year, it’s not as intense. This year, I’m not quite as cynical…though I assure you, there is still some cynicism in my soul–I am still me, after all.

This year is different.

And I think some of that difference comes down to this: I’m beginning to grasp what it means to be loved by God.

Oh, not that I will ever grasp that concept completely. And neither will you, in case you are thinking you’ve got it all figured out. To understand fully the magnitude of a love so deep that sacrificed the life of Jesus on the cross, as a means of payment for our sins, is not something that we can ever completely figure out. It’s not meant to be something we can study on and learn all about and master. We can not become experts on the love of God.

But we can, at times, be granted the gift of sensing the tender, gracious, merciful tendrils of His love toward us, and the restorative, healing redemption that is infused in our lives through the conduit of that love.

I sensed it last night, as I sat around the dinner table with 9 friends from church, sharing a dinner, laughter and warm companionship together.

I sensed it this morning before school, as my two smalls gave me hugs on their way out the door to school—and the boy child even thought to wish me a Happy Valentine’s Day!

I sensed it this past Sunday at church, as God gave me the gift and honor of comforting a friend who has recently lost a parent and who is aching.

I sensed it as the kind soul I am dating sheepishly handed me a Valentine’s Card and invited me to a Valentine’s Dinner date for this upcoming weekend–and I didn’t think for one second that it was over-sentimental or cheesy at all. Instead, it brought me joy. And deep gratitude.

And I sense it nearly every day, as the intense grief of very hard things lessens just a little bit more…and as my soul experiences small incremental increases of hope and joy.

Only God can do that.

I stumbled across these words by John Stott a few months ago. I’ve held on to them….for I am a collector of words…and I’ve pondered them a few times since them. Today, though–on this Valentines Day—they have drilled their way a bit deeper into my mind:

“To encounter Christ is to touch reality and experience transcendence. He gives us a sense of self-worth or personal significance, because He assures us of God’s love for us. He sets us free from guilt because He died for us and from paralyzing fear because He reigns. He gives meaning to marriage and home, work and leisure, personhood and citizenship.” (Preaching Christ from the Old Testament, pg. 291)

I’ve known crippling shame. I have been deeply guilty of sin and disobedience. And, oh my soul, how I have known fear. Intense fear. And, I’m certain that you have as well.

But I’ve also encountered His tender mercies, and the present future of salvation. And, before the beginning of each day, when I meet with Him, He assures me of God’s love for me.

Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Romans 3:35-39

Post Script: For those who are curious…Yes, I am dating someone. I’ve not been very public about it, for many reasons. So much of my life was thrust into the public’s eyes, following the arrest of my ex-husband, that I had a very strong pull to keep this part close to my soul, and quietly enjoy being courted.

Like I said above, he is a kind soul. He treats me with immense respect, and makes me feel pretty. Loved. Adored. It’s not easy—my life is insanely busy and messy and complicated. I’ve become “set in my ways”, over the past 8 years. I’m stubborn. A workaholic. But he is patient. And long-suffering. He understands that my relationship with God has first place in my soul, and that my children–and raising them to be strong, successful, independent adults–are my highest priority. He is good to my kids–never exerting sudo-parental authority that does not belong to him, but always encouraging them. They adore him; even chastising me if I don’t immediately invite him to join us when we go to the movies or out to the park.

He fixes things around the house, and makes me furniture to replace our worn out pieces. He teaches my boy about car care, computers and the game of tennis. He was former military, so he talks shop with my Navy son. He treats my oldest girl and her boyfriend to dinner, and he tells my youngest that she has a beautiful voice, and exchanges dumb pun jokes with her (those are her specialty).

It’s nice. No, it’s more than nice. It’s lovely.

I’m in no hurry. And we are in no hurry. I am extremely cautious. Like most things in life, I am overthinking this–but I have such a high view of marriage and relationships and God’s standards on the matter, that I think some overthinking is justified. I’m honest with him, about those things. He listens, understands, remains steady. And patient.

He is making friends with the men at my church; men who I have the deepest respect for. Men who, along with their wives and families, have stood beside me and my crew over these last 8 years–providing for our needs when they arose, encouraging us every step along the way. I love watching him forge these new friendships. It’s a beautiful thing.

I don’t know what the future holds for me. I don’t know what the future holds for us. Shoot, I don’t even know what tonight holds. If I did, I’d probably run far, out of fear and trepidation, for so many reasons. But that’s why I am so incredibly grateful for the sovereignty of God. Like the quote by John Greenleaf Whittier, at the top of my blog, I claim this as truth: Before me, even as behind, God is, and all is well.

Mercy Tree

January 30, 2017 By Shelly Durkee

I’m ashamed to say that, sometimes, I forget all that God has done.

Not that I ever truly forget, really. I am always aware of it. I see it in His continued provision for my little family, here in this little home that we have come to love–a true shelter in every sense of that word.

I hear what He has done, when I see my crew sitting around the living room, enjoying being together, and laughing joyfully and loving deeply.

I sense what He has done, when I approach Him in prayer each morning, and remember a time when I was suffocated by the crushing hopelessness that weighed dark and heavy upon my mind and soul.

So it’s not that I forget, per se, but rather it is this, maybe: When I take a rare moment to fully recall all that He has done in our lives, it is nearly so overwhelming that I can not dwell on it for very long. The very weight of His love and mercy and grace, both at once sends my soul soaring and nearly causes me to come undone.

I can not think on it too long.

This morning was one of those times, when the very presence of God and the intense reality of what He has done for me and my crew, was so immense that, truly, I could hardly withstand it.

I had the privilege and honor of getting to sing with my youngest girl this morning, at our church. Any time that I’m able to do this, is a gift and responsibility that I do not take lightly. It’s a gift, because were I to tell you how much God has changed the soul and mind of my girl in the past 3 years, it would take far more space than what an average blog post should be. Suffice it to say, she is different. Where there was confusion and pain, there is now clarity of mind and a joyful soul. Where there was sin and brokenness, there is the realization of freedom and a sense of peace. (And, so you know, I share this with her permission and knowledge that I am writing this.)

So, it is a gift–one that I was uncertain I would ever be able to witness, let alone be a part of: that of worshiping alongside by girl, in song.

And, it is a responsibility to be able to share gospel enriched words with people in need of hope and a reminder of what God has done and is doing.

This morning, we sang “Mercy Tree”, a song with lyrics written by Krissy Nordhoff and Michael Neale. And, as we sang, I was profoundly reminded that the reason I was standing there singing with my girl, is because of the very meaning behind the words of this song.

In the purest, most pared down explanation, it is this: salvation.

I don’t think about salvation as often as I should–probably because I don’t understand it as deeply as I would like to. I wish I were able to figure out how it “works”. There is just enough “God-ordained” mystery to it, that–try as I might (and believe me, I have tried), I can not wrap my mind around how the God of all creation would love me so much as to send His son to die for me, and how in the death of resurrection of Jesus, my horrific sins are paid for, thus bringing me into His family as an adopted daughter. And how His resurrection points to the truth that this is not my home; someday, I will be truly home at the feet of the one who loves me with perfect love, where there will be no more tears and no more sorrow. No more pain.

There will be a day.

For God so loved the world, that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him will not perish, but have eternal life. John 3:16

This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends. John 15:12-13

Today, as I sang with my girl, the words of this beautiful song (included below), I remembered once again the tremendous beauty and gift of salvation, and that this salvation was bought upon The Mercy Tree……the very Cross upon which our Savior died.

And, oh my soul, how I love that the writers refer to the mercy tree as “endless.”

His mercy is endless. There is much hope in that.

I did a little bit of research into the song, and landed at the Brentwood/Brenson blog, where they write about the background of songs. I read this and found it too beautiful to miss sharing with you, dear reader:

Writer Krissy Nordhoff describes this tree that she envisioned in the dream, “It was very large and spanned as far as you could see. Underneath the tree there was safety. It was almost like the cross…with the roots of that tree reached back to Calvary.”

She explains the significance and relevance this tree has in each of our lives, “I felt like if everyone could understand what it meant to be under that covering, everyone would be saved. There’s safety, there’s healing, there’s freedom, there’s all the things we need under this big, beautiful tree.” From this idea, a song started to take shape.

Nordhoff went on to write a complete song based on this dream. However, she still felt like something was missing, so she brought it to longtime writing partner, Michael Neale. Neale revealed to Nordhoff that the tree in the dream was the cross.

From this revelation, Nordhoff and Neale worked together over email, cutting, pasting, rewriting, and adding a new chorus. The final result was a touching story that shares the hope in knowing there’s always a place that we can find life and rest — under the mercy tree.

That’s it, exactly.

Safety. Healing. Freedom.

Life. Rest.

Because, not only do I see this in my girl’s life, I know this truth in my own life, too. He has taken my cynical, angry, hurting, grieving, hard-hearted soul, and, on The Mercy Tree, has saved me.

Death has died.

Love has won.

Hallelujah. Hallelujah.

On a hill called Calvary
Stands an endless mercy tree
Every broken weary soul
Find your rest and be made whole
Stripes of blood that stain its frame
Shed to wash away our shame
From the scars pure love released
Salvation by the mercy tree

In the sky between two thieves
Hung the blameless Prince of Peace
Beaten, battered, scarred, and scorned
Sacred head pierced by our thorns
It is finished was his cry
The perfect lamb was crucified
His sacrifice, our victory
Our Savior chose the mercy tree

Hope went dark that violent day
The whole earth quaked at love’s display
Three days silent in the ground
This body born for heaven’s crown
On that bright and glorious day
When heaven opened up the grave
He’s alive and risen indeed!
Praise him for the mercy tree!

Death has died, love has won
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
Jesus Christ has overcome
He has risen from the dead

One day soon, we’ll see his face
And every tear, he’ll wipe away
No more pain or suffering
Praise him for the mercy tree

On a hill called Calvary
Stands an endless mercy tree

Let the Redeemed of the Lord Say So

January 11, 2017 By Shelly Durkee

I am struck tonight, by Psalm 107.

I’m reading through the Bible for 2017, using the Five Day Plan. Psalm 107 was a part of my reading this morning, and I have found the words weaving in and out of my mind and soul all day long.

Do you ever read something in scripture, and see yourself? Do you ever read a passage, a chapter, a verse, a story, a Psalm and think, “This writing is autobiographical. This is me.”

Oh, we do have to be careful in those moments. We can not lose sight of context or original audience. To do so would be foolish, and wrong.

However, the Scriptures were given to us, and meant to do all the things we read in 2 Timothy 3:16: to teach us, to convict us, to train us, and to correct us.

And, I think they were also given to us to remind us, of what God has done. Because in remembering all that He has done, we learn deeper who He is.

That’s where I am today, with Psalm 107.

Reading it, I feel as if I could have written it. As if I am looking over the shoulder of the Psalmist, who is penning the truth of what I have experienced. In one sense, it is a bit unnerving. In another sense, it is incredibly comforting.

I’d like to share with you some thoughts and my prayer, based upon this Psalm. The Psalm is long, so I’ll not share all that I wrote this morning in the wee early hours of the day. But I would like to share some of it, in hopes that you, too, may see yourself in these words of Psalm 107.

And that you, too, can be one of the redeemed to say so.

Oh give thanks to the LORD, for he is good,
for his steadfast love endures forever!
2 Let the redeemed of the LORD say so,
whom he has redeemed from trouble

God, you are good. You are the God whose steadfast love endures forever. I did not see that before, in my early life.

I did not see that You are good.

And I did not trust that your steadfast love would endure.

And, for many years, I did not believe that you were real.

But now, O God, I know. I know, because I am redeemed.

Redeeemed is such a beautiful word. It means “to gain or regain possession of (something) in exchange for payment”. You redeemed me from my sins. You paid the price that I should have paid, in the sacrifice of your son. How beautiful is that dreadful scandal that took place on the cross, where Jesus died for me.

You are good. Let the redeemed–let me–say so.

Some wandered in desert wastes,
finding no way to a city to dwell in;
5 hungry and thirsty,
their soul fainted within them.

I know those desert wastes God. Those vast empty stretches of years where the hunger and the thirst was so strong, that I tried to satisfy it in destructive ways. I tried to slake that hunger and thirst in ways that would never, ever let me reach the end of the hunger or thirst–in ways that only deepened the thirst.

And my soul fainted within me, into a hopeless heap of dry, cynical, angry dust.

To this day, I remember the thirst, and at times it returns. But You, oh God—I know You are the only thing that satisfies. Verse 9 tells us this, undeniably:

For he satisfies the longing soul,
sand the hungry soul he fills with good things.

You, alone, are my only hope. You feel my soul with good things–joy. Peace. Compassion. Settledness. The only drink of living water that will quench the thirst and revive my soul when those dark days come.

You are good. Let the redeemed–let me–say so.

Some sat in darkness and in the shadow of death,
prisoners in affliction and in irons,
11 for they had rebelled against the words of God,
and spurned the counsel of the Most High.

This, too, have I known.

I have known utter darkness. I have sat in the shadow of death and longed for it to come.

I have been imprisoned by my own sin–the sin of despair, the sin of cynicism, the sin of unbelief, the sin of addiction.

Each of those sins–and all sin–ultimately stems from pride. And pride is the highest form of rebellion against Your almightyness. Against Your holiness. And against the very core of who You are–Your love.

I ran far from You, because I did not think that You were good.

I was wrong.

And in the moment–or, rather, moments, for the shattering of my darkness did not happen in an instance because my soul often turned back to the familiarity of rebellion–in those moments of recognizing repentfully the deep wrongness I was mired in…

I cried to You.

And you delivered me from my distress and brought me out of darkness and the shadow of death.

Truly, you burst my bonds apart.

You are good. Let the redeemed–let me–say so.

You make my storms be still.

You say “Shh” and hush the waves of the middle-of-the-night seas that threaten to swamp me.

And I am glad when the waters are quieted.

And today?

Today you are turning my desert into a pool of water and the parched land of my soul into a spring of water.

There are still days, God. There are still days, when I am diminished and brought low through oppression, evil and sorrow.

But you raise me out of those dreadful moments. And you make my family safe, secure–and joyful. And that makes other things pale and become distant shadows, to see my children standing fast–the ones that are, and the ones that I pray will some day.

Whoever is wise, let him attend to these things;
let them consider the steadfast love of the LORD.

Cause me to be wise, God. Remind me to attend to these things. Help me to consider your steadfast, non-abandoning love, because…

You are good.

Let me, who has been redeemed, say so.