Words To Live By » Endurance

Four Hopes For The New Year

James McAlister — Wed, 30 Dec 2009 15:03:00 +0000

I post this article in anticipation of the New Year that is upon us. There are links at the bottom for both an audio message and a neatly formatted bulletin insert.

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How should we confront the difficult times life invariably brings? One way is to learn from those who have succeeded in similar straits. Joseph the patriarch faced incredible trials, and his life holds many lessons to give us hope. Let’s look at four.

DELIVERANCE IS COMING

At age 17 Joseph (one of 12 sons of Jacob) was cast into a pit by his brothers, who plotted to kill him. Why? Because Joseph was their father’s favorite, and he singled Joseph out for special favors. Plus, Joseph had two unusual dreams indicating that his family would eventually bow before him in subservience. And they hated him even more for his dreams.

The eldest brother, Rueben, actually opposed the plot and intended to rescue Joseph. Perhaps he might even have furtively whispered, “Don’t worry, my brother. I’ll get you out of this pit and restore you to your father.” But in Rueben’s absence, the others pulled Joseph from the pit and sold him to slave traders bound for Egypt. (Gen. 37:2-22).

Joseph received deliverance alright, but it didn’t come in an agreeable, expected way. What only God knew, however, was that Joseph had an unbreakable appointment 13 years later to stand before Pharaoh, king of Egypt, to effect deliverance for those who hated him.

Has the hurtful sting of betrayal put you in a “pit”? Deliverance may not come when or how you envision it, but expect God to act on your behalf. (1 Cor. 10:13).

DELAY IS NOT DENIAL

A wealthy Egyptian, Potipher, purchased Joseph and soon put him in charge of his whole household. But when falsely accused by Potipher’s wife, Joseph was cast into prison and laid in irons. Despite his unfair circumstances, however, Joseph’s diligence motivated the chief jailer to make him supervisor of all the prisoners. (Gen. 39:21-23)

Then unexpectedly, when Joseph was 28, two fellow prisoners, Pharaoh’s chief cupbearer and chief baker, each had a puzzling dream. Joseph interpreted and gave the cupbearer good news: in three days he would be restored to his former position. But the baker would be executed. Desiring relief, Joseph implored the cupbearer, “Please remember me to Pharaoh, and get me out of this house.”
But even though events unfolded exactly as Joseph had said, the cupbearer forgot him, leaving him to languish in prison two more years doing his duty. (Gen. 40:1-23).

Perhaps you’ve asked God to release you from a painful trial and believe He’s forgotten because nothing has happened. His delay is not necessarily a denial of your request; the timing may not yet be right. Duty is what we do until deliverance comes.

YOU CAN HAVE A FRUITFUL FUTURE

When Joseph was 30, Pharaoh himself had two terrifying dreams. When none of his wise men could interpret, the cupbearer suddenly remembered Joseph, whom Pharaoh immediately summoned!
Stunned by Joseph’s insight, Pharaoh instantly made him Prime Minister and gave him a wife, who would eventually bear him two sons. The first he named Manasseh because “God has made me forget all my trouble and all my father’s household.” The second he named Ephraim, “For, “he said, “God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction.” (Gen. 41:51-52).

Able to forget even the treachery of his own brothers, Joseph could look to the fruitful work God had planned for him.

Have bitter circumstances caused you to expect nothing better or different in the future? On the contrary, your future can bear much good fruitâ€”but you must assuredly set aside the bitterness of the past.

GOD’S PLAN IS BETTER THAN YOURS

At age 56, Joseph took his two sons to his dying father to be blessed, but instead of following the customary, accepted procedure, Jacob placed his right hand on the head of the younger Ephraim. This deviation greatly displeased Joseph, who immediately attempted to “fix” his father’s “mistake” by grasping Jacob’s hand to move it to Manasseh’s head. But his father refused and said, “I know, my son, I know…. However….” (Gen. 48:14-19).

Though physically blind, Jacob’s spiritual eyes had seen what Joseph could not see and overrode Joseph’s plan and desire for his firstborn son.

Have your plans not worked out as you thought they should and left you facing outcomes you’d wished to avoid? Perhaps God has said “however” to your plan because He sees what you cannot, and His way will indeed be better than yours in the long run.

Joseph experienced hard times much like ours: jealous betrayals, unfairness, unfaithful friends, tedious delays, and undesirable turns of events. But despite all of these, he grew and succeeded because of an unswerving trust and confidence in God. That should give us hope for ourselves, no matter what we must face.

(Note: A detailed audio version of this message is available here)

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Three Rules That Don’t Seem Right

James McAlister — Mon, 18 May 2009 15:48:14 +0000

Throughout my school years I had to memorize numerous rules I never completely understood. For example, why must I lie down instead of lay down for a nap? But there is a grammatical rule that governs such statements even if I don’t know it.

I have found, however, a few truly useful rules for successful living–but they just don’t seem right. In fact, they appear at first glance to be flat out wrong because they conflict with our “common sense.”

THE FIRST ONE OVER THE FINISH LINE DOES NOT WIN THE PRIZE

In a race, the winner is the one who gets to the finish line first–unless he’s disqualified for an infraction of the rules. Rules are important, and we need to understand them.

Who was the strong man, David or Goliath? Goliath, of course, who stood taller than nine feet and had been a warrior since his youth. His opponent? A mere shepherd boy who couldn’t even wear a man’s armor. But Goliath’s bulk and formidable array of weaponry proved no match for David’s confidence, inspired and backed up by the name of the Lord God of Hosts. If bets had been taken that day, they would all have been on the strong man who lost. “The race is not to the swift, or the battle to the strong.” (Eccl 9:11).

So if the first one over the finish line doesn’t win the prize, then who does? “Blessed is a man who perseveres under trial, for once he has been approved (by God), he will receive the crown of life….” (James 1:12). Eternal prizes go to those who persevere despite obstacles and sidetracks. There are no shortcuts to maturity, and neither strength nor speed decide the winner.

PERFECT CONDITIONS DO NOT YIELD FRUIT

Perfect conditions seldom occur, and “he who watches the wind does not sow, and he who watches the clouds does not reap.” (Eccl 11:10). If we wait until conditions are “just right,” we won’t ever attempt anything.

When the Israelites crossed the Red Sea, they were led by God into the wilderness where they were three days without water. When the water they finally found at Marah was bitter, great complaints arose against Moses. Moses cried out to God, and following His instructions, tossed a certain tree into the water, causing the bitter water to become sweet. (Exodus 15:22-27).

Thus satisfied, sustained and nourished with sweet water, the people moved on. They camped next at Elim, an excellent spot with 12 wells of water and 70 palm trees. What could have been better? But the great work of God was done at the bitter waters; there is no miracle recorded at Elim, where conditions were perfect.

Out of the hard spots in life grow powerful testimonies, towering strength, clear insight. Perfect conditions don’t produce that kind of fruit.

BEING RIGHT IS NOT ENOUGH

Stated differently, the truth is never sufficient in itself. We do need to be right and have a firm grip on truth–but there’s more.

On occasion I assemble the ingredients for a chocolate pie on my counter. Tasted individually, however, they are disgusting. Bitter cocoa powder, chalky flour–and there’s no way I’d eat a raw egg! But in the proper proportions and cooked for the right amount of time, the result is really quite tasty.

I’ve been around numerous churches and individuals who were right in their teaching and doctrine, but they had neither significant influence nor power. Why not? An essential ingredient was missing from the mix.

Paul explains this way: “That we henceforth be no more children, tossed to and fro, and carried about with every wind of doctrine, by the sleight of men, and cunning craftiness, whereby they lie in wait to deceive; but speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ.” (Ephesians 4:14-15, emphasis added). Truth does not prevail unless mixed with love.

In evaluating my various roles in life–husband, father, grandfather, teacher, leader–I draw one conclusion: I’ve been right a lot more times than I’ve been effective.

I’ve preached too much and prayed too little, loved too little, had too little compassion, overlooked too few wrongs done to me, forgiven too little. Indeed I was right–yet ineffective. Truth doesn’t stand alone.

The important rules that govern our lives are sometimes veiled in darkness.Â But God waits to throw back the shutters and flood us with light–if we’ll ask Him. (James 1:5).

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Jenny–Is Hers A Life Worth Living?

James McAlister — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 20:18:03 +0000

This article was originally published in the October 1982 issue of Moody Monthly magazine. Jenny lived for 13 more years after the article was written.Â You will see just the first page of the article below, but there’s also link where you can read it all.

Read the entire article here

Crises, Choices And Confirmations

James McAlister — Sun, 04 Nov 2007 15:41:43 +0000

On the healing of both body and soul. This is the poem mentioned in the message:

DREAMS

Late at night they skitter
Through my mind on velvet paws.
Silent, it seems, to elude my grasp,
But I sense them crouching in the shadows—
Waiting to pounce.

They often seek, I think,
Some occasion to linger
And boldly whisper hints
Of “incredible” and “impossible”:
Of what might be, should Strength
And Circumstance both smile on me with favor.

Then if Morning shoos them off
With stern persuasions of “Not today,”
Nighttime faithfully beckons them to whisper once again,
“But there is yet tomorrow.”

The Fierce Foe Of Difficult Times

James McAlister — Thu, 25 Jan 2007 20:05:00 +0000

I face an enemy daily, sometimes hourly. Perhaps you know him, too.

Many are his names. So ubiquitous, so pervasive, so insidious is he that the New Testament identifies him six times as “Losing Heart.” Losing Heart invites us to embrace discouragement, agree to quitting, welcome defeat. His solicitations demand from us an emphatic “No!”

Perhaps it would be a boost to see some of the ways Losing Heart finagles a foothold–and the remedy we have in each case.

UNFAIR CIRCUMSTANCES

Jesus taught a parable about a widow who was being unfairly oppressed. Unfortunately, her only recourse was to repeatedly appeal her case to an unrighteous judge who neither feared God nor respected man. Deciding ahead of time to do nothing for her, he permitted the unfairness to linger exceedingly before eventually relenting to her continued solicitations.

But why did Jesus choose this seemingly peculiar story as an object lesson? To teach his followers to pray–despite tenacious unfairness–without losing heart.

Interestingly, encapsulating the lesson in “mathematical” form reveals both problem and solution: Unfair Circumstances minus Prayer equals Losing Heart.

UNFRUITFUL LABORS

As life experience mounts, our eyes adjust to other ways Losing Heart mounts his attacks. Parents toil to instill a particular trait into a child but observe no favorable result. A hard-working employee grieves when the big promotion goes to a less-qualified cohort. A layoff comes, dashing decades of faithful service in a moment. Sometimes labor just don’t seem to bear good fruit, does it?

The Apostle Paul addressed this issue: “Whatsoever a man sows, that will he also reap.” And though the natural inclination is to interpret these words in the negative sense, his next statement proves the thrust to be decidedly positive. “Do not lose heart, for in due time you will reap if you do not grow weary.” Persist in sowing good seed even when the fruit isn’t immediately manifest; it may come in a different season. Don’t surrender. Don’t abandon hope. Unfruitful Labor minus Persistence equals Losing Heart.

UNWANTED SUFFERING

My enemy’s third face has proven the most difficult for me, so I’ve saved it till last. Suffering brings tears, so who wants suffering?

Paul and suffering often traveled hand in hand; they knew each other well. In one passage he reports, “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.” But the apex comes thusly: “Therefore we do not lose heart, for though the outer man is perishing, yet the inner man is being renewed day by day; the things which we can see are temporary, but the things we can’t see are eternal.”

That’s perspective! What’s happening on the inside is of more enduring significance than temporary external circumstances. Unwanted Suffering minus Perspective equals Losing Heart.

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When I shared these thoughts at a high school graduation ceremony not long ago, I knew the graduates couldn’t possibly comprehend until later in life. But I had no idea that within just six months this enemy of Losing Heart, emboldened by cancer, would be roaring his way through our lives.

To those who may be in similar straits–physical, emotional or spiritual–I offer this: though your enemy rise up against you a thousand times, resist him. He will back down. He can’t win the war without breaking your will to go on.

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The Parallel Tracks Of Good And Bad

James McAlister — Thu, 20 Apr 2006 20:25:00 +0000

The late Ron Dunn, a preacher whom I highly esteem, coined a truism I frequently lean upon: Good and bad run along parallel tracks and often arrive about the same time.

Though some had warned us, nothing could have prepared us for our first visit to the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. From children to the aged, the outward devastation of pernicious disease on frail human bodies overloaded our senses.

They are courageous souls in hand-to-hand combat with a vicious enemy of seemingly inexhaustible tenacity. But they press on. To cover the almost-inevitable baldness that cancer treatment wreaks, many select colorful head scarves or stylish wigs as banners for their individual battles.

Calling cancer a bad thing is a gross and trivial understatement. But even amid their roiling seas of trouble, good persists in bobbing to the surface as cancer patients openly discuss both defeats and victories.

Without a hint of bitterness, Mr. Boudreaux relates the loss of a leg and other traumatic setbacks with this emphasis: “I wear a cross on my hard hat at work to remind others that faith in God is more important than what’s happening to my body.”

Linda, who is nearing the end of her chemotherapy, questions Mary. The Linda asks, “So why aren’t you crying?” Mary responds, “I’ve read the end of The Book and know it will eventually work out well.”

Another shares that because her cancer has returned, she must endure a second onslaught of debilitating chemotherapy. “They tell me that I only have a 20 percent chance of survival, but I intend to be one in that 20.”

When a third person confides that she is now a seven-year survivor, I ask how she’s done it. “Because of my positive attitude–and faith in God.”

Liezle, our Filipino nurse, cheerfully describes her baby daughter, Esther. Is she familiar with the great heritage of her namesake, Queen Esther of the Bible? She isn’t, so I recount how Esther was providentially elevated to royalty at just the precise moment to rescue the nation of Israel from annihilation. Face aglow, Liezle promises to rush home that evening and read the thrilling account for herself.

Maggie Johnson, a dear young friend, mailed Mary a pair of stuffed animals: a woolly sheep with her baby lamb tucked safely between her strong front legs. “They will remind you that you are God’s little lamb, and that He’s holding you close to Himself.”

Though Mary’s sister, Betty, visits her for a week each fall, that’s never enough time to fulfill all their plans. Now they’re getting to be together for a solid five weeks.

More than ever before, Mary embraces each day as a gift from God to be enjoyed and purposes to make the most of it. And just as we learned that we would be traveling to Houston, our son and his girlfriend announced their engagement–good and bad arriving at the same time.

Given a choice, we would not to be on this particular track, the one that lingers far too long in the land of pain and suffering. But occasionally we catch a glimpse of that parallel track, the one we’d all choose if afforded the chance, and anticipate that adequate measures of its cargo of good will arrive when we need it the most.

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Learning Words Of A New Language

James McAlister — Thu, 23 Mar 2006 21:25:00 +0000

We began this year with expectant enthusiasm for learning Spanish as a second language. Imagine our surprise in being compelled to abandon our first enjoyable lessons and adapt to the convoluted lingo of a decidedly ominous tongue: cancer.

My wife's unexpected diagnosis of kidney cancer in January set us on a fast track. First came surgery to remove the diseased kidney. All went well and initial indications were that no further treatment would be needed.

But one troubling word–pathology–kept popping up to plague us. So we waited… two weeks, in fact, for an expert pathological opinion from Emory University that taught us another fearsome term: sarcoma.

Sarcoma is a cancer of the body's connective tissues. It's rare in kidneys, appearing there only about one percent of the time. Three other words from the pathologist describe Mary's variation of sarcoma more precisely: primitive, unclassified, high-grade. And like much nomenclature of this new language, we don't fully comprehend, but we do have dark suspicions.

Confusion is a word that's long familiar, but it's assumed gargantuan proportions as we've tried to decipher the data we have. CT scans for the past year, for example, have been tracking a peculiar mass in the chest that's tentatively been diagnosed as benign and suspected to be remnants of thymus tissue.

But a recent CT scan to analyze a newly-discovered mass attached to the rib cage showed neither the old chest mass nor the new rib cage mass. Instead, it pinpointed suspicious nodules in both lungs; the radiologist suspects they're related to the malignancy in the kidney.

The ribcage mass remained a mystery, however, until an ultrasound just this morning classified it (in my non-medical terminology) as funny-shaped cartilage between the ribs. So we shout another word: relief. Still, there's plenty of concern.

In the last two weeks the word hectic describes our dashings between doctors and tests as time is of the essence. For two full weeks I scurried hither and yon, attempting to corral stampeding medical records in hopes of securing Mary an appointment at the renowned M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. Just yesterday MDA confirmed that appointment.

Lest I paint a lopsided impression, cancer has also enriched our vocabulary with bright phrases that include hope, faith and encouragement.

Through an unusual set of circumstances which I may detail in a separate column, Mary has been reunited with friends she knew while in the eighth grade in Portland (Ark.). Two, Shelia Drake and Pat Pennington, even came for an afternoon's visit a few days ago. In addition to their gifts, they bore words of cheer and endearment–punctuated by laughs and squeals.

A reunion of eight "girls" from that class is scheduled in Conway this weekend. Cancer has a way of bringing focus (now that's a good word) to what should have been important all along.

Friends and family have risen to occasion, standing by us with words and deeds of assurance, confidence and love. Last Sunday night our church gathered around us and prayed for us. Calls and cards continue to pour in.

Hope seems to rise and fall with the latest words from doctors, test results, those who know someone with a similar condition. And our hopes have been no exception. Ultimately, however, our hope and faith rest upon God and His ultimate purpose and plan for us.

He has miraculously stricken the word fear from our lips, replacing it with another: cheer. After all, Jesus Himself commanded, "Be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world."

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A Letter To My Wife

James McAlister — Thu, 10 Jun 2004 00:10:00 +0000

It hardly seems as seems as if our 37 years together have come and gone so quickly, but sifting through old pictures this past week convinces me that they have. My hair was once black, but what few locks that age and stress have permitted to remain are now decidedly gray.

We were young and in the carefree days of youth, oblivious to the difficulties soon to confront us. But in an instant on December 21, 1972, Jenny's traumatic birth brought the first change to dramatically alter our futures and respective outlooks on life. And unseen to us, other mountains of crisis loomed just over the horizon.

Could we have foreseen the difficulties ahead, we might have decided that the path of pain best be avoided–and then have done so. But the grace of God conceals the future so we might not be fearful and learn to depend on Him to rise to whatever occasion He permits to enter our lives. And He has been faithful to do that, even when we haven't always been faithful to respond properly.

Surprisingly, though, each pain that's been delivered to our door has been balanced by a corresponding joy that would arrive later. If I could just learn to wait for the joy without growing discouraged….

My mother gave us nicknames 37 years ago: Sunshine and Thundercloud. Even a casual observer can tell which is which today! But despite our differences, you have been a faithful mother and wife, one who had endured hardship with a persistent optimism that continues to encourage me. I thank you for that.

You have loved–and continue to love–your children to the fullest. Though Jenny is now gone from us, tonight we'll go to eat at Jasmine's, where Barrett has planned a special treat for our anniversary dinner. He is an extremely diligent worker, one who endeavors to make his employers successful. He learned that from you.

What does the future hold for us? We can't know, but we do have some anticipations for this next phase of life. We look forward together to Barrett's graduation from college, his career, his marriage, his family….

Seven years ago on our 30th anniversary, I had two specific prayers for you. I repeat them here as my continued desire:

1. That the beauty of the Lord our God would be upon you and that He would establish the work of your hands (Psalm 90:17).

2. That He would clothe you with strength and dignity (Proverbs 31:25).

May God bless you–and I love you!
——
Why would I share such personal details? Perhaps to encourage those who think long-term relationships are a steady stream of carefree days and then abandon each other when their idealism doesn't materialize.

In looking back, one thing is clear. Having our lives flexed by the opposing forces of joy and sorrow–even triumph and failure–builds strength and unity that come in no other way.

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Giving It One Last Twist

James McAlister — Wed, 29 Oct 2003 01:49:00 +0000

Part of a heart-shaped pendant, the little watch ran scarcely an hour at a time. But I recall the day the mystery of its lethargy was solved.

Though my wife enjoyed wearing the pendant watch, its marked tendency to sporadically stall diminished any real usefulness. In that pre-digital era, watches required regular winding, but hourly winding proved more of a chore than a school teacher could effectively indulge.

The tiny knob on the watch stem complicated the ritual, especially for small fingers. In desperation–and truly believing that I could fix anything–my wife finally handed the recalcitrant timepiece over to me to investigate and reform.

Turning the object in my hands, I tentatively and carefully searched for obvious external signs of damage or abuse. Nothing seen, I gently tweaked the stem, confirming the more-than-normal force required to turn it. But I persisted, aggressively winding until a more pronounced resistance told me that further rotation would cause damage.

This time the watch ticked on and on for more than 24 hours, proving the obvious: it had never been fully wound even though my wife had owned it since high school. Since it always stopped shortly after she put it on, adverse body chemistry seemed a reasonable cause.

I mention this embarrassing episode because history repeated itself just this past week when mushy ground on the north side of our house sent me sleuthing for a water leak.

The source wasn't hard to spot: a rivulet seeping from where the garden hose screwed onto the faucet. Resolving to fix it later, I cranked the faucet handle closed.

A few days later, however, a mysterious gurgling sound compelled my return to that same spot to investigate. Finding the ground even wetter than before, I grappled again with the misbehaving hose squirting mist into air.

In disbelief, I gave the faucet handle a stout twist. It moved imperceptibly, terminating the spray. As with the watch, initial resistance had caused me to abandon the job too quickly.

Seems like I'd eventually learn the lesson of not giving up too quickly. Mother used to tell me, as mothers are wont to do, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again."

Or in Calvin Coolidge's more eloquent phraseology: "Nothing in the world can take place of persistence. Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful men with talent. Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb. Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts. Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent."

And who knows but what my next push or pull or twist or tweak or turn on a problem might actually convert repeated failure into success.

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Uphill All The Way

James McAlister — Wed, 15 Oct 2003 00:49:00 +0000

Despite last week's boost of crisp October air, my first hike since a knee injury almost four years ago challenged me more than expected.

Bowing to my wife's cautions, I had chosen a rather public place to hike–just in case. Nevertheless, intricate spider webs completely spanned the trail sporadically, proving that no hikers had recently traversed my route.

I started early and strong, naturally expecting weariness to gradually overtake me. But I was wrong. Exhaustion swarmed me suddenly at the end, even though the knee hadn't protested at all over the brief three miles of mildly rugged terrain.

From the outset, the trail gradually descended to Panther Creek, where it leveled out for a ways. For many, downhill slopes pose greater dangers than uphill. Amplified by the natural pull of gravity, a misstep going down can instantly convert to an uncontrolled tumble or slide. Though I bobbled a time or two, a stout hiking stick served as a third leg.

Uphill navigation is another story because gravity can work like a rope on a tent pole, adding stability by its steady downward pull. Stable, yes; refreshing, no.

For me, the erosion of energy by persistent gravitation pull was never more dramatic than on a five-mile hike into the Chicago Basin area in southwest Colorado. Unwisely, I began the hike with a slight fever and was thoroughly expended in little more than an hour. A friend dropped his own pack on two different occasions to return and carry mine. But he wasn't well either and soon wore down.

At about the halfway point, my son compelled me to sit down and shed the pack altogether. Until then, I had endeavored to trudge 30 minutes and rest 5, then walk 20 minutes and rest 5. Endurance declined to where I was walking only 5 minutes but resting 10–and still losing ground.

We stowed my pack among the rocks, intending to return for it later. But our leader suggested that several fellows take turns gradually shuttling it to camp.

For the first time in my life I thought death might be imminent–and prayed for my wife to be reminded to pray for me. And I commended both her and our son into God's hands and watch care.

Tortuous and tedious uphill grinds remind me of this opening verse of a Christina Rossetti poem. "Does the road wind uphill all the way? Yes, to the very end. Will the day's journey take the whole long day? From morn to night, my friend."

Despite the struggle, last week's trek held treasures for the careful observer. A large, sandy-colored snail halted his inching beside Panther Creek until I passed. And the rapid fluttering of a single leaf against a branch on a windless day imitated the subtle tick-tick-tick of a clock.

Nevertheless, the last segment wound uphill all the way–a perfect reflection of how life seems to be right now. But the journey will level out again near the top.

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