Innholdsfortegnelse for April/May 2020 i Mysterious Ways

It’s always during the most unexpected moments that blessings shine through, maybe because we’re more open to them during these times. Or maybe it’s just because that’s when they have the most impact. But it seems as if they always arrive just when needed. Take, for example, something that happened to my mom recently. The time had come for my 88-year-old grandmother to go into assisted living. Grandma was struggling with dementia. Though my mom and her siblings knew putting her in assisted living was the best way to keep her safe, it was still a really hard choice for them to make. Plus, part of the progression of Grandma’s dementia meant that she didn’t always say the kindest things, which made a difficult transition even more challenging. The day…

What on earth is Jimmy doing? I raised my head from the pillow. My husband, Graham, and I had been lying in bed that June morning at our home in Kinross, Scotland, when our greyhound, Jimmy, shoved his wet nose into my armpit, sniffing around as if it was his job. “Stop—that tickles!” I said, pushing him away. But Jimmy was relentless. Sniff, sniff. What had gotten into him? Our sweet Jimmy was usually so polite and docile. That’s what first drew me to him two years ago at the Greyhound Rescue, where I continued to volunteer every Thursday. Many of the former racing greyhounds were nervous and unsure of how to be pets when they first came in. Their lives in the racing world were difficult—they were muzzled and…

I was standing in the backyard of a big Victorian house. I recognized it from my hometown. Children used to live there while they were waiting for permanent homes. The doors of the house opened, and a line of little girls came out. They walked by, none of them looking at me. All except one. This girl was about 10 years old, with long black hair and beautiful brown eyes. I’d never seen her before. She stared directly at me. It looked as if she was trying to tell me something important. No, urgent. Her eyes were wide, imploring. Help me, they said. But I didn’t know how. “What am I supposed to do?” I said. Then I woke up. What could the dream mean? It felt pressing, but I…

Finish this shift, get to the next job, study for midterms, practice the sheet music for church, tuck Matt into bed…. I walked from house to house, delivering mail and tallying the long list of things I needed to get done that day. There was no way I could do it all. I was an undergrad at the University of Alabama at Birmingham, working two jobs to support myself; my wife, Angie; and our young son. One in the evening, doing retail inventory. The other, working part-time as a substitute postman. With midterms looming, things were piling up. I felt stretched thin. Even my church commitment was complicated these days. Our worship team was pushing the congregation to embrace some contemporary hymns I’d learned on the piano, but folks were…

I stepped back from the wall to admire my new shadow box. I’d just had it framed. The piece fit perfectly into an empty space on my dining room wall. Inside the box was a doll my soldier brother John had sent me in Georgia from Vietnam back in 1966. Every time I moved, the doll moved with me, but I never seemed to find the right place to put her. She usually wound up tucked away in a drawer somewhere. Now, 45 years after receiving her, I’d finally found a great way to display her. I had kept that doll with me for so long as a reminder of my gratitude that John was able to return home safe—and a memorial to those who weren’t. You see, the shadow…

1. Dedicate some part of your day to sitting in silence with God. First thing in the morning works best for me. I’ve found that a half hour is ideal, if I can manage it. Committing to it every day is important. You show up; God shows up. 2. Let go of your preconceived notions of who you should be and what you should be doing. Too much of my quiet time is spent conceiving lists and schedules, planning what I should be doing that day, that month, that year, the next 10 years. Then I give into the holy nudge: Give it up. 3. Read Scripture with a sense of identification. Be attentive to what the Bible says. I’m fascinated by what biblical scholars can tell us about books…

“What matters it to what nation or sect we belong, if we love the Lord in sincerity, and our neighbors as ourselves?”—ELIZABETH FRY (1780–1845) Elizabeth Fry was a prison reformer in nineteenth-century England. Her life’s mission had mystical origins. Born into an upper-class family, Elizabeth as a teenager began having terrifying dreams of being swept away at sea. One night, during the dream, she felt “true and real faith” in God and was finally spared from the waves. Taking this as a sign, she chose a simpler life devoted to charity. In 1813, philanthropic efforts led her to London’s Newgate Prison, where she found horrifying conditions for women inmates and their children. Founding a female-led organization to aid imprisoned women, she spearheaded prison reforms now considered standard, such as providing…

When I do magic, I use various elements of psychology, science, optical deception and physical manipulation to achieve the appearance of breaking the laws of nature. I use natural means to create the appearance of the supernatural. A miracle is a true changing of the natural order. It is a happening that can only take place through the hand of God. David Knight, CHRISTIAN ILLUSIONIST The difference between magic and miracles is the difference between formula and relationship. The difference is a loving Heavenly Father. In magic, a person tries to manipulate an out-come. In a miracle, the God who spoke all things into existence speaks a personal word once again, exercising loving authority. Shayne Looper WRITER AND PASTOR OF THE LOCKWOOD COMMUNITY CHURCH IN COLDWATER, MICHIGAN God alone can…

In just over two hours, I was expecting 100 people at my house for my father-in-law Larry’s seventieth birthday. I was right on schedule, putting the finishing touches on my corn casserole, when I froze. Where was the can of corn? I ran to my pantry, thinking I might have left it there. No luck. Did I buy frozen corn instead? I rushed to my freezer and rummaged through bags of icy vegetables. Nothing. Larry’s health wasn’t great, and I really wanted to make this party special for him. I’d planned meticulously, making a list of ingredients I’d need to whip up big batches of Larry’s favorite foods—such as this corn casserole. The original recipe called for peas, but my kids hate them, so I always substituted corn. The finished…

Milwaukee, Wisconsin Eight-year old Brayden Auten needed a new liver—fast. Brayden had been admitted to the children’s hospital with a mystery virus. His liver was failing. His only hope was a transplant. But none of his family or friends were a match. At a neighboring Milwaukee hospital, ICU nurse Cami Loritz had just been officially approved as a transplant candidate. She was soon matched with Brayden. Being in the same city was vital—as Brayden’s condition deteriorated, time was of the essence, according to Inside Edition. Cami donated a portion of her liver to him on May 14, 2019. The surgery went well. Brayden has made a good recovery—and a new friend. “We can’t thank her enough. She’s a true miracle,” said Brayden’s mother, Ruth. “We consider her one of us,…

For centuries, theologians, scientists and mathematicians have pondered nature’s geometric designs: circles, squares, triangles, hexagons, spirals.… What is the significance of these shapes? Can they help us better understand creation? The idea that naturally occurring shapes reveal God’s artistry can be traced back to Plato, who is purported to have said that “God geometrizes eternally.” The thought was later echoed by mathematician Carl Friedrich Gauss, who wrote, “God arithmetizes.” This sacred geometry is in everything—spinning galaxies, fractal rock formations, turtle shells—each shape showing us a divine hand. CIRCLES symbolize God’s eternal existence. Sacred figures in art with circular halos signify divinity. Stained glass windows in Gothic churches incorporate the shape into religious architecture. In nature, circles appear in water ripples, tree rings and the planets’ elliptical paths. In the Bible,…

SENIOR CONTRIBUTING EDITOR I recently attended our church’s annual Quiet Day, during which we’d spend most of a Saturday sitting in silence, focusing on prayers and tuning out the noise of modern-day life to tune into God. The whole thing reminded me of what mystics did in past eras. People who lived in the Middle Ages, say, or in Jesus’ time. Saints and figures from the Bible. You wouldn’t find them hunched over a computer like me—an ordinary dad, editor, writer and spiritual seeker. Or as the leader of a church prayer workshop. Or would you? Quiet Day was led by a modest, un-pretentious seventy-ish woman, whom I’ll call Nell. She served as our spiritual director, helping us grow in our faith. Nell structured the day into half-hour periods of…

I stood in the corner of the reception hall, watching all the happy couples on the dance floor at my grandson Mitchel’s wedding. I couldn’t imagine a more beautiful day. There wasn’t a raindrop in sight. The church sanctuary had been decorated with a “journey” theme, from model boats to compasses. Family and friends had flown to Minnesota from every corner of the country. As a pastor, I’d been asked to officiate. I should’ve been over the moon. But something—someone—was missing. My wife came over and handed me a piece of cake. We watched Mitchel twirl his new bride across the dance floor. “They’re a beautiful couple,” she said. “I know,” I said. “If only the father of the groom could have been here to see this.” David, my son-in-law…

I walked into a Travelodge in Seattle, wondering how I’d wound up there. I’d been traveling from Oklahoma to my vacation home in a rural area of Montana. But I’d missed my connecting train. There wasn’t another one until 4 p.m. the following day. Staying overnight was my only option, but I wasn’t familiar with Seattle and had no idea where to start. I said a prayer for guidance and anxiously scrolled through hotel options on my cell phone until my eyes landed on this hotel. It was farther from the train station than some of the other accommodations, but something told me I should stay there. So I went. Though I wanted to explore the city, I felt uneasy about doing it by myself. I guess I’ll just stay…

Barbara J. Litchfield I was heartbroken when my mother died. She’d been such a selfless and compassionate woman. When she was younger, she loved traveling to Atlantic City to play the slot machines. It was one of the few things she did just for fun. She never played the nickel or dime machines, just the quarter ones. She kept her winnings in a “lucky” plastic cup, which now sat on a shelf in her room, a reminder of better times. The day after her funeral, my husband and I visited my mother’s grave. As we returned to the car, something caught my eye. By my car door was a shiny, new quarter! It hadn’t been there earlier—I know because I’d been trying to avoid stepping in a puddle. I took…