Thursday, December 30, 2010

Ruth Fields October 24, 1920 – December 30, 2010

While we wait for the blessed hope—the glorious appearing of our great God and Savior, Jesus Christ. Titus 2:13

This past week we celebrated Christmas yet it was not the joyous time it should be. We wanted to celebrate the birth of our Savior but it was just too hard; we were caught in our own pain, avoiding the holiday and its ever-so-empty seat at the table once occupied by Dad. All those with experience say that you just "get through" the first holiday.

Last Christmas we were waiting for Dad’s imminent departure. Every activity was bittersweet knowing that it was our last with him. We spent day after day waiting –then on January 11, one day after his 90th birthday, Dad decided to go on to his Heavenly home.

This week we were in that place again—waiting—this time for Mom. We waited; although we knew where she was going and who she’d be with, it was still hard. We told her we loved her, that she’d soon see Dad, and that she’d soon be whole again. They were words we meant but our hearts struggled to say them.

Mom joined her husband of 68 years this morning and is now in the presence of her Savior.

It can’t get much better than that—except for all of us to be together. For that we must wait. We wait for His glorious appearing. Come quickly, Lord.

Friday, November 19, 2010

You’ll Put Your Eye Out

I couldn’t help but laugh and remember the recurring line from the wonderful holiday movie A Christmas Story. Set in the 1940s, nine year-old Ralphie had only one thing on his list—a Red Ryder BB rifle—but he’s told over and over how dangerous they are and how he could shoot his eye out. Despite the danger, he continues to make his voice heard.

With the line “you’ll put your eye out” running through my head and my right eye closed-yet-fluttering in pain, I put my plate down, got up and ran to the sink to flush my eye with water. The foreign object – the croissant flake -- was dislodged in moments.

Yes, as I bit down into my homemade breakfast sandwich, a hard, sharp flake of the overly-toasted croissant flew upward and lodged in my right eye. In all the years since the invention of croissants, have you ever heard of anyone being injured by a flake? It just sounded like something satan would do when he knew I needed to do a lot of reading that day.

Apparently I haven’t been doing much that bothered him until now. Throughout our ministry there have been times that activities didn’t go as planned and we knew satan wasn’t overly thrilled with the fact that we were swiping people from his claws and leading them to the One who would give them Eternal Life. But he never really seemed to spend much time on us.

Sure do miss those days! Since I’ve learned that Atlanta is a hub for exploiting American children, God has given me opportunities to speak in churches across the nation on sex trafficking--encouraging them to get involved by ministering to the victims and reaching out to the offenders within their congregations. We must shine light on the darkness that satan has hidden there. No wonder he has kicked discouragement into high gear.

God has begun to bring those who victimize our children to judgment. Despite the danger, we must open our eyes and continue to make our voices heard.

Do you fix your eye on such a one? Will you bring him before you for judgment? - Job 14:3

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Can I Go With You?

How can they believe in the One of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone telling them? Romans 10:14

I dreamed of Dad last night—actually him and Mom both. It has been so long since I’d been able to talk to them; Dad, because he died seven months ago and Mom because her alzheimer’s took her memory and her ability to communicate quite a while back.

In the months leading to Dad’s death, he had become almost housebound due to the difficulty in maneuvering him into a vehicle. As the clock ticked closer, Dad would say “Can I go with you?” every time someone was going anywhere.

I’d try to take him somewhere every time I was in town and at Thanksgiving I rented a wheelchair-accessible van for three days. We went somewhere twice a day “just to get out.” Despite his pain and exhaustion, his smile beamed through as we drove around looking at Christmas lights or just went to the store to pick up medication.

Last night we were talking about church and Dad kept asking, “Can I go with you?” over and over. "Can I go with you this Sunday?” In my dream I had a sense that time was limited, that he may not make it until Sunday or that it might be his last Sunday in church.

How often we encounter people every day who by something in their actions are saying “Can I go with you this Sunday?” but we never actually invite them because they never actually ask. What if the “Can I go with you?” is a desire to have eternal life but we never share the way.

What if their time is limited and they never make it to Sunday?

Monday, June 7, 2010

Take 5 Minutes

I saw the tears of the oppressed—and they have no comforter; power was on the side of their oppressors—and they have no comforter. Ecclesiastes 4:1b

It was definitely a God thing. I was sitting in the living room of the future therapeutic, restorative home for girls who are victims of sex trafficking. The home wouldn't open for many months yet. I was visiting with the Founder of Living Water for Girls when my cell phone rang. It was someone from the North American Mission Board. They knew I served in the Atlanta area as a Mission Service Corps Missionary and wondered if I knew anyone who was working in human trafficking.

I laughed. As I began to talk about the issue and the home, I was consciously aware that God had arranged this moment. He began arranging other opportunities for me to share this burden with people who apparently had no idea it existed in the US, much less in their own backyard of Atlanta.

The more I learned the more of a sense of urgency I felt. When I learned that every minute 2 children are sold, I felt overwhelmed at the size of the problem. But I felt certain that as God makes people aware of the horrendous crimes being committed, they will want to do something. They will let Him use them to end this oppression, to be the comforter for these children.

One of the best ways to increase your awareness is to watch the video clip of the documentary film, The Playground. It's less than 5 minutes. Surely you can take 5 minutes to watch it.

By the way, during those 5 minutes, ten children have been sold.

Friday, April 16, 2010

Rescue the Girls

For He has rescued us from the dominion of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of the Son He loves. Colossians 1:13.

Imagine having to earn $500 - $800 a day? Imagine that if you didn’t you’d be beaten or your family was threatened with death? How do you do it? What if you are only twelve? A 12 year old girl.

A year or so ago, I was attending the monthly meeting of the Mayor’s Faith-Based Roundtable and learned that Atlanta was a hub for human trafficking and commercial sexual exploitation of children—the second leading illegal industry in the US after drug trafficking, it has surpassed weapons trafficking. You can sell a weapon only once; you can sell a girl over and over.

I learned there are at least 300,000 American children each year rented and sold, girls servicing 15-20 men a night. They don’t even get the money.

How do they get there? Parents may sell their children for drug or rent money or they may be kidnapped or they run away. Within 48 hours, 80% of runaways will be recruited into the industry. The recruiter/pimp provides her shelter, food, buys her things and takes care of her. After a while, he says he needs a little extra cash. Since he’s been spending so much money on her, can she help him out a little? He tells her he has some friends coming over. He gives her some drugs to make her compliant and the process of “breaking” begins.

What is God going to do about it?
He’s going to use you and me to promote awareness of the issue, especially in our churches—the perpetrators are in our churches. These rapists have fish symbols on their cars and car seats in the back of their mini-vans.

God can use you and me to encourage law enforcement to crack down on the pimps.

And He can use us to minister to the girls. Help bring the girls out of the darkness and into the kingdom. Visit www.livingwaterforgirls.org to learn how.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Harry Fields, Sr. January 10, 1920 – January 11, 2010

When you are face-to-face with mortality, time stops and time races.

In a strange sort of consciousness, I had begun having flashes of memories of my Dad when I was little. There he is working in his shop, making paint. There he is, tilling the garden. There he is, working on the truck. There he is, napping on the porch after supper. There he is, playing games with me. There he is, teaching me how to build things. There he is, teaching me to ride a bike. There he is, picking me up and spinning me around in his arms. There he is, reading the paper with my head on his shoulder. There he is, always having time for me.

Then all too soon, there he was, with labored breathing, saying that he’s so tired, he doesn’t feel good and asking me to help him. Outwardly, I fought to keep the tears inside. Inwardly, I grit my teeth as I questioned God’s purpose.

Watching my father die was the hardest thing I’ve done in my life so far. On Sunday, January 3rd, the hospice nurse and several of our experienced caregivers agreed he was in the “actively dying” phase and we had 12-24 hours. We said our goodbyes and waited. Time moved slowly. Monday passed. Tuesday passed. Wednesday passed. Thursday passed. Friday passed. Saturday passed. Sunday, January 10 was his 90th birthday. At 7:45 Monday morning, Dad died with my head on his shoulder. Time had raced; we wanted more time.

I have no doubt that my Dad is in Heaven and no longer has a gaping through-to-the-bone hole in the side of his head from cancer. I have no doubt that he is reunited with friends and family that went before him. I have no doubt that I will see him again.

God had to watch His Son die a horrible death with holes through His hands and His feet. There was a purpose: It was all for us, so we could have the eternal life that my Dad is now enjoying in the presence of God.

My biggest problem with the whole thing is that if I live as long as most of the women in my family, it may be 45-50 years before I see my Dad again.

I miss you Daddy!