The Hope That is in You

Posted on by Pamela McMilian

Recently a pastor friend invited me to give my testimony (Christianese for telling others how you became a Christ follower) at the small rural church where he currently serves. Though not particularly fond of public speaking, I agreed to it, and spent a great deal of time in prayer and preparation. Whether or not what I said had any lasting impact on the few in attendance that Sunday is unknown, but I can tell you how the preparation for that day affected me.

I was overwhelmed.

Overwhelmed as I recalled the painful details of the shipwreck I’d made of my life before finding Jesus. Overwhelmed reflecting on the incomprehensible patience and love God extended to me through the years I spent searching in all the wrong places in all the wrong ways for truth and happiness. And overwhelmed by the radical change knowing Jesus has made in my life. 

Remembering the amazing way Jesus made himself known to me brought a deep and renewed sense of humility, joy, and gratitude.

If you are a fellow Christ follower, do yourself a huge favor. Write out your testimony. Give it thought; pray to remember details accurately and for the ability to convey your story clearly in a way that focuses on Christ and honors him. Put it on paper and practice reading it or better still, memorize it just as though you were going to share it next Sunday at a small rural church.

Perhaps the instruction of the familiar verse, 1 Peter 3:15, refers not only to being able to share the gospel effectively through scripture, but also being ready to share your personal testimony of how Jesus became your Lord and Savior.

“But in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect.”

                                                                                                                                            1 Peter 3:15 ESV

If you don’t yet know Jesus as your Savior and don’t know who to ask about it, open the Bible or download a Bible ap on your phone and see for yourself. Jesus tells us plainly who he is.

In Hebrews 14:6, Jesus says, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”  There is no other way to heaven – regardless of how moral or intelligent or benevolent we are in this life; Jesus is the only way we can come into the presence of our Creator God when we die.

Simply knowing about Jesus won’t get you into heaven. Believing there is a God won’t do it, nor will belonging to a particular denomination or church. Reciting or repeating a prayer that doesn’t sincerely reflect your own heart’s cry won’t even do it. As the verse above says, no one comes to the Father (God) except through me (Jesus Christ).

Surrendering your life to Jesus is a personal decision that takes place when we understand we cannot save ourselves. When we finally come to a place where we’re willing to admit we are sinful and unworthy of coming before a Holy God, then we begin to grasp the purpose of Jesus’ life, death, burial and resurrection. The amazing thing is that God loves each of us so completely that he helps us come to this understanding when we genuinely seek him.

If you want to know if God is real and if Jesus is who he claimed to be, ask God to show you and watch what happens! Some suggested Bible verses to start with are: Ephesians 2:8-10; John 3:3; John 3:1-22; Romans 6:23  

“Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find, knock, and it will be opened to you.” Matthew 7:7

Listen Up, Sheep

Posted on by Pamela McMilian

It’s not often the house or my mind is this quiet. Frequently the TV is on, a conversation is taking place, I’m reading something or immersed in some nonsense on my phone. This morning, the house is totally quiet. There is a noticeable absence of sound.

The palpable quiet reminds me of the instruction in Psalm 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God.”   I open the Word to John 10:2-4 and it seems to underscore the importance of stillness and listening:

“But he who enters by the door is the shepherd of the sheep. To him the gatekeeper opens. The sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes before them and the sheep follow him, for they know his voice.”

I think of the many times, even without a computer, phone or TV going, I’ve finished my daily Bible reading but haven’t truly engaged with the Father. The ticking of an internal clock and a perceived urgency to get on with the day distracts me and I cut short the opportunity to hear from the Lord. Sadly, I realize I’ve become far too accustomed to rush, to noise, to busyness. In fact, it is abnormal when I feel the absence of it!

It’s in this silence I hear my heart ask a question. Could there be anything more foolish than saying you love a God who desires a relationship with you, who fills you with His Spirit to guide you, convict you of sin, comfort and teach you, and yet not stop to listen for Him?

Prayer:  Father, thank you for your unfathomable, steadfast love. Teach my heart that you own time. It is not my master; You are time’s master and mine. Teach me to seek and embrace the stillness where you meet me. Help me discern your voice and in joyful surrender, follow you daily. In Jesus name, Amen.

Prodigy and Patience

Posted on by Pamela McMilian

You’ve got to love a kid who is so self-assured that he doesn’t even pretend he’s not looking into your  home when he knocks on the door. Instead, this particular child knocks assertively, then stares through the window while waving at me.

He’s our neighborhood prodigy. He’s famous around here. Prodigy possesses a Dennis the Menace brand of charm and imagination that frequently leaves us simultaneously smiling and shaking our heads.

I’m convinced the person who designed our living room furniture is a spiteful soul. Regardless of how hard you press the little button that operates the footrest, it lowers at a sloth-like pace, frequently pushing bladders to their near limit. The button, I believe, is in my life to test my patience, not unlike the child at the door.

 I feel him watching me as I continue pressing the blasted button. Eventually, the footrest lowers to a point allowing my escape from the sofa to see what the little guy wants.

I open the door only partially to find Prodigy standing in the cold drizzle. He’s sporting a sharp looking puffy blue and black winter jacket that I figure must be fairly water resistant. He certainly looked comfortable. But then, Prodigy is always comfortable. His dark eyes peer at me from within the depths of his oversized hood. I haven’t had an opportunity to say a word when he speaks with all the seriousness and authority of the governor.

“Four things,” he says. He holds up his fingers to accentuate his points.  “One – I’m not a solicitor.” 

Clearly, the footrest delay provided him adequate time to prepare a speech.

“Two – I’m a traveling salesman. Three – would you like some tea? Four – it’s only a dime.”

He flashes a smile that would melt even Mr. Wilson’s heart. It’s then I notice he has set up shop on our front porch. A small metal tea pot rests precariously on the porch railing. Balanced beside the pot is a shallow wooden box overstuffed with tea bags. I briefly imagine his mother’s face when she realizes he’s absconded with all the tea bags in the house. I smile to myself but have to decline his offer.

“No, I’m sorry” I say, “we have COVID, so I’m not going to open the door any wider. But I hope you have better luck at the next house.”

Disappointment brushes across his face for less than an instant before he understands I’m not really rejecting his sales pitch. He knows I’m protecting him by not engaging with him further. He’s already gathering his wares as I finish speaking. Prodigy bounces down the front steps eyeing his next target, the house across the street.  

“You’re welcome!” he calls back over his shoulder even though I haven’t thanked him.

I grin as I close the door, realizing that the winter weather will bring no reprieve from the lessons in patience and the adventures of Prodigy.

Unconventional Answers

Posted on by Pamela McMilian

A true Christmas memory. By Pamela McMilian (Published in Metro Voice Dec. 21, 2023)

“I know you know!” the seven-year-old insisted.

Large snowflakes melted on the windshield as I drove with my grandson to the pharmacy near our house.

“Pleeease,” he begged. “Just tell me. The kids at school say Santa isn’t real. So, is he or not?”

The boy’s blue eyes searched my face for some hint of an answer. I remained silent. His mom had passed away in December the year before. I thought of her when she was his age with those same blue eyes. I had three little ones then and no money for Christmas presents. My heart still ached at the memory of how I answered this same question those many years ago. There was no way I would disappoint her son with a quick answer.

“Father,” I silently prayed, “show me how to answer this child and still honor you.”
Aaron asked again, now in a matter-of-fact tone. “Grandma, I know we celebrate Jesus birth at Christmas. But does that mean there’s no Santa? Just tell me the truth.”

I smiled at the persistent kid wanting so much to believe in a jolly gift-giver. Finally, words formed.

“The fact is, Aaron, I can’t tell you. That’s just something kids have to figure out for themselves,” I said, pulling into a parking spot.

He sighed heavily at my non-answer. Inside the store, he lagged several feet behind me, shoulders slumped for good effect, nursing his frustration.

Passing the greeting card aisle, I caught a glimpse of a couple standing elbow to elbow. I looked again. There stood a large, plump-bellied man, peering over his spectacles. He wore a familiar red velvet suit, wide black belt, and black boots. His hair and beard were long and white. The woman next to him was about his age. Her hair nearly as white as her apron, was pulled into a bun. Her ankle-length red dress revealed her black boots and complimented her partner’s attire. They chuckled softly as they read the card together. I paused, as my grandson caught up to me.

“Hey Aaron, look!” I nodded toward the couple.
His eyes grew wide as he whispered. “Is that them?”

“It looks like it to me. Go ask them,” I said.

He continued whispering, “You go!”

“I can’t, Aaron. Remember? It’s a kid thing.”

“I don’t need to ask them. It’s them!” he announced.

We picked up the few items we came for and oddly, didn’t see the couple again. Aaron kept pace with me returning to the car.

“Wow! Did you see them, Grandma?”

I smiled at his innocence, silently thanking the Lord for his unconventional answer to my prayer. As I drove, I thought about how precious a child’s heart must be to the Lord and how he knows exactly what each of us needs to get through the hard Decembers of life.

A few blocks from the store, a large deer stepped into the street ahead. I braked to a stop as the deer walked toward the car. A few feet from the bumper, it stopped, standing its ground – almost as if proving a point. We watched, stunned, as one-by-one, a small herd of deer emerged from the darkness into the street.

“Ten, eleven…” we tried counting them as they walked in and out of the headlight beams, a dusting of snow glistening on their backs.

“Woah! Grandma, are those their reindeer?”

As the wintery roadblock meandered across the street I grinned.
“The fact is, Aaron, I can’t tell you. It’s just something kids have to figure out for themselves.”