Category Archives: Sara McKeefer

How many are 56 million?

Aside

Fifty-six million lives were snuffed out before they had a chance to begin, all because prideful people ‘rewrote’ the Word of God. So how many is that? After researching the populations of individual countries, here is a glimpse:

What if everyone in Canada, Israel, and Switzerland–or Spain and Switzerland–were suddenly killed? Would that be more of a tragedy than the 56 million Americans who met an equally, if not more horrendous fate in the U.S. since Roe vs Wade?

What if the lives of every man, woman and child in Denmark, Norway, Sweden, Austria, Switzerland, Israel, Ireland, New Zealand and Greece were snuffed out? Would those 55 million lives be mourned simply because they have names?

I am sad for the children, sad for the parents, sad for our country–that we are prejudiced against babies that God did not have time to ‘fashion in their mother’s womb’ before He had to take them home.

What might our country have accomplished with those 56 million lives? Would one of those children perhaps have grown up to discover a cure for cancer? Would one of them have been inspired by great men of God to take up the mantle and lead hundreds of thousands more into a living relationship with Jesus Christ? Would one of them have been a great politician with the kind of values that would have united this country rather than divide it?

No one knows but God, but someday I think we will know just what our self-centered society has robbed our country of. We should all be ashamed and on our face before a Holy God, asking Him to forgive our wayward nation that for a time was accurately portrayed as a Shining City on a Hill.

In his farewell address to the nation on January 11, 1989, President Ronald Reagan said, “I’ve spoken of the shining hill all my political life…. And how stands the city on this winter night? … After 200 years, two centuries she still stands strong and true to the granite ridge, and her glow has held, no matter what storm. And she’s still a beacon, still a magnet for all who must have freedom, for all the pilgrims from all the lost places, who are hurtling through the darkness, toward home.”

Oh, to believe it once more.

Waiting for the Storm

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The wind is calm, permitting the softly falling snow
to reach the bosom of mother earth,
thickly veiled in purest white.
Every twig, every shriveled leaf, every pine needle
becomes a perch for snowflakes,
fashioned by the very Breath of God
to fall with sweet abandon just beyond this warm room
where Peka and Boo sleep in the near silence,
broken only by ticking clock and the heater’s gentle whir.
I rejoice in the peace–and breathe a heartfelt thank you
for days that begin and end with You.
The snowplow rumbles by, indication of the coming storm
that has been in the forecast for days.
I am reminded that few of the storms of this life
come with a forecast but almost always
descend upon us with fury’s speed; and
with an unexpected blast that chills our very soul
and leaves us exposed, we are left
fighting for our very lives with no thought of anything
save survival.
I breathe in the relief that it was He who fashioned me
in the womb of a mother I have never known
only to place me in the arms of another,
who led me to the One who loves me like no other.
Because I have found my real home in Him,
there is no consternation when the blizzards of this life
threaten–or descend.
I am, instead, secure in the warmth of His love,
listening for the still, small Voice within to say,
“This is the way, walk ye in it.”

There are those times…

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There are those times

When distant memories

Lay just beyond my reach,

Unremembered by choice.

My head turns to anything

Except the shadowed reality,

Of necessity kept just out of sight,

Then, as now, in the darkened place

That veiled my heart,

Concealing the dawn of a distant day.

Out of fear, others encircled me,

And by fear, I deferred,

Avoiding the revelation

Of who I might have been.

Today I see only dusky silhouette

Of the girl I really was,

Before illumination came

And blinded me from truth.

Do the Research!

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For the last almost-year, I’ve experienced an incredible amount of bad doctoring. And frankly, some of it has been my fault. I didn’t do the research, at least not adequately. After spending years as a journalist (daily/weekly newspapers, educational writing, and copyeditor for a medical journal), I knew better.

My latest journey into the shadow of medical uncertainty began last summer when the pain from my deteriorating knee joint became so bad that I had to resort to crutches to get around. Anyone who knew me before last year knows I am not a crutches sort of person. I remember a friend, who would watch me every morning from her high-rise condo at Gulf Shores as I walked the beach, remarking once that I walked beautifully. That’s a pretty neat thing to hear when you’re a miniscule 5’2”, do not have long legs, and just turned 40. Until a year or so ago her words were still accurate.

But, I digress. After what I thought was adequate research (a friend and the Internet), I made an appointment last June with a knee surgeon in a big city, and the surgery for the knee replacement was set for early October.

I didn’t ask my family doctor for a referral because he had x-rayed my knee in May, with the diagnosis that I still had a lot of cartilage and didn’t need knee replacement surgery yet. His solution was to put me on higher doses of pain medicine. I never filled the Rx. What I didn’t know until later was that his office did not know the method necessary to reveal if there is or is not cartilage left. FYI, the correct method is to have the patient stand only on the affected leg, bearing all the weight on it while the x-ray is taken. The fact that he didn’t know the correct method was beyond disconcerting, especially since I had been in pain for months and could hear a grinding sound when I walked!

With the surgery scheduled for Oct. 4, I concentrated on getting through the summer—not an easy task by any means. My summer consisted of planning the logistics for and overseeing our annual church convention, making sure a group of elementary-aged, pastors’ kids had a great time at a three-day pastors’ conference, playing with my energetic, almost 2-year-old grandson, helping out with service club projects, and watching my garden go to the weeds since I couldn’t get down the hill to tend it. The icing on the cake was our annual vacation in Ludington in early September, which was not real vacation-like since I couldn’t walk anywhere without crutches, much less out to the lighthouse or down the beautiful winding trails at the state park. (Get the picture?)

On Oct. 4, this enthusiastic patient came out of surgery ready to heal. I won’t go into detail about the hospital experience (it was scary because of what did happen!) or the rehabilitative care (it was scary because of what did not happen!). After working with an amazing, local physical therapist three times a week for more than three months, both of us knew that something about my knee was not right. Range of motion was not where it should have been, and swelling around the implant continued.

The surgeon continued to see me every couple of months, but it wasn’t until April that he casually mentioned there might be a problem with part of the implant—that it might have been trimmed too much, causing it to wobble—and that I should come back in the fall if the swelling continued. Suffice it to say, I now have a referral from an internist to a sports medicine surgeon, who is well known for replacing the joints of ex-football players.

I won’t go into detail about the other medical challenges I’ve been dealing with during this time, like withdrawal from getting off a well-advertised drug for fibromyalgia, which I never should have been on in the first place. And then there was the gastroenterologist who removed two polyps from my colon in April but did not retrieve them for testing!  (His office called to tell me everything was fine and to come back in five years! Undiagnosed cancer could kill me in five years!) They evidently didn’t think I would read the paperwork from the procedure. I have a consult appointment in a couple weeks with a gastroenterologist associated with a respected practice in a large city; and yes, I will have to repeat the colonoscopy. (Oh, fun!)

SO, here I am again, with the summer stretching out before me, just having gone through withdrawal from Cymbalta (don’t even ask), my garden mercifully planted by a young couple, and a knee that balloons from the simple act of walking to the back of Sam’s Club and prevents me from being the Nanny I want to be to my grandsons.

My advice to everyone who reads this is Do the research! and never believe for one minute there will ever be a better medical advocate for you than you!

Talk about a welcome rain!

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What a welcome rain poured from the heavens last night. I had already watered the garden and flowers, but that rain sure made everything pop! Just goes to show that what comes straight from the Hand of God is always preferable to what we try to do on our own.

I remember my mother frequently talking about the inadvisability of being so heavenly minded, you’re no earthly good. I’m not making excuses for Mother, but she came from a time when pragmatism was, by necessity, the primary focus of life. Living through the uncertainties of World War I, also known as the war to end all wars, as well as the Wall Street Crash of 1929, the Great Depression and World War II, generated a no-nonsense approach to life that produced a lot of axioms based on the Book of Proverbs.

They weren’t just sayings but lessons lived out by parents before their children. I especially remember these: If you want something, you must work for it! You have to pull yourself up by your bootstraps! There’s no such thing as a free lunch! If you make your bed, you lie in it!

This morning, I am grateful for lessons learned by watching my parents, as well as the friendship of the One who sticks closer than any family member. After all, He is the One who opened my eyes this day to see the obvious–and inspired me to thank Him for what is truly praiseworthy. Yes, I am heavenly minded at this moment in time, yet I know full well there will be those times when I am anything but!

I am grateful for lessons learned from the One who loves me all the time, even when I’m not very likeable and, yes, even when I cease to listen and remember. I believe with all my heart that God never says to me (or anyone else):

  • Hey, if you want me to love you, then you need to clean up your act!
  • Hey! I saw that, and you are in T-R-O-U-B-L-E!
  • Remember when you rebelled against me and did _________?
  • I can’t heal you, because you don’t have enough faith!
  • I am SO tired of your complaining!
  • That’s the last straw! I’ve had it with you!

What He does say is “I love you anyway.”

Talk about a good friend… talk about a good role model… talk about a welcome rain.

You Are the One

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You require even more from your servants
who minister to the body of Christ.
You require transparency,
honesty in all of our affairs,
forthrightness in our conversation,
integrity in what we say
and do not say.
You require a heart turned toward you
that we may walk upright and blameless
and an ear turned toward the world
that we may hear the heart-cries of those
bound by the world.
You look for the person who will do these things
simply because their heart is turned toward you.
You are the Truth
that sustains us while we walk this earth,
and lifts us as wings of eagles
to ride the thermals of God
over storms that gather in the distance
and strike fear in our hearts.
You have hid us from the evil one
and protected us from our own folly.
You have placed us time and time again
in the cleft of the rock
when we have strayed into danger.
You have covered us with your feathers
and sheltered us under your wings.
Like the loving parent you are
You have preserved us.
And it is You, O gracious Father,
who releases us one day
to soar on wings like eagles.

A Call to Honesty, Openness and Confession

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Even though I wrote this almost four years ago, I believe even more today that God is calling the Church to authenticity. Seekers are looking for the authentic and, therefore, reliable—the accurate and, therefore, realistic view of what it means to be in fellowship with Jesus Christ.

      Where is honesty, openness and confession in the Church today? Is it largely missing in action because we are afraid to trust God, and, therefore, each other? I am trusting you today, not to keep my confession a secret but to shout it from the housetops and do by example, because there is no freedom like the freedom that comes when we put our trust in a Holy God. 

Wednesday night I told those who had gathered to pray that I would be calling my older daughter when I got home to invite her and her husband to go to church with me Sunday (Mother’s Day) and come for lunch afterwards, and shortly thereafter we prayed.

Later that evening, I called, only to hear her say, “We’re just not in to going to church.” And when I asked her if they would at least come for lunch, she hemmed and hawed and finally said, “We like to sleep in on Sunday.” When I responded “Well, you know me, I won’t lay a guilt trip on you” she said she knew that (but I was thinking that it sure would be nice to do just that once in awhile).

I thank God for the teaching I received a long time ago, that God does, in fact, answer every prayer with one of three responses, Yes, No, or Not Yet! I read an account once about this person who died; and in the few minutes before he was revived, he saw shafts of light piercing the clouds into Heaven. When he asked what it was, he was told it was the prayers of the people on earth. I like to think of my prayers piercing Heaven… that they don’t go unnoticed… that they are active.

As I thought about my prayer Wednesday night that my daughter and her husband would come Mother’s Day, the Lord in His infinite mercy brought back to me that I had, indeed, received exactly what I had expected, as evidenced by my comment to my son after my call to her: “She said ‘No’—I expected as much!”

Wow, I am one quick learner, aren’t I? And I’m the one who is always saying things like “Our faith should be such that if God doesn’t come through, we would be shocked.” So, yesterday a.m., after a great quiet time and some creative writing as a result, I purposed in my mind that I would live “from the holy, recreating Center of eternal peace and joy… where we are wholly yielded to Him,” as Thomas Kelly puts it in A Testament of Devotion.

I would be purposefully mindful of God throughout my day as I worked and as I went to three back-to-back meetings in the evening. Well, I did okay here in this room by myself, working… but beyond this room, I pretty much fell on my spiritual face. I failed miserably!

During the Habitat meeting I thought of God once, when Pastor Mark prayed. During the next meeting, I wasn’t aware of Him at all—the banter was light and fun; and in the last meeting to choose two applicants to receive scholarships, I was irritated by the essay of a girl whose life ambition was to be a missionary—and I said nothing when the spokesman of the group voiced “concern that she doesn’t have loftier goals.”

      Talk about blowing it! I don’t know where God was but He sure wasn’t at my Center… more like on the fringes or maybe in the van waiting for me to come back to Him and my senses. Did I really think that any goal could be loftier than becoming a missionary? I had just prayed that day for missionaries who were putting their lives on the line in Zimbabwe and had sent emails out to others, asking them to pray for their safety in the face of immediate danger!

Did this supposedly wizened saint judge that young woman because of her youth, even as I was judged for “being so spiritually minded I was no earthly good” at that age? Where – was – my – voice?

And then as I was coming home after the meetings, I passed my other daughter and her husband on their way out of town, headed for Tennessee. When I called her to say I was praying for a safe trip and hoped they had a good time, she once again wanted me to assure her I wasn’t mad because they weren’t going to be here for Mother’s Day. I assured her that I was okay with it because I knew she hadn’t realized it was Mother’s Day weekend when they responded to the invitation from family. But, despite my conciliatory words and her genuine concern, the irritation began to creep in.

And then she called a couple hours later to talk to me again and I was irritated, but, of course, I didn’t let it show. She said she wanted her brother to call her when he got home from work (probably so she could tell him he’d better go to church with me Sunday, I thought to myself), and then when he called her, she asked to talk to me again, apologizing again and asking me again if I really was okay.

As I’m assuring her, I come to the realization that I am positively irritated to the hilt on the inside, and I even let it show by saying “It’s just another day and I will be fine” in that monotone voice I know I shouldn’t use.

As I look back on my failed attempt yesterday to live from a Center wholly yielded to Him, I realize that my Center wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Why? Because I had so easily harbored anger (disguised as hurt). Plus, I didn’t even recognize it as such and thus was nowhere close to confessing it. How could I do that? How could I not recognize the anger? Because I felt justified, that’s how!

Last night I journaled the following: I’m tired, and I obviously need to go to bed and pray myself to sleep. I sure hope tomorrow is better, and I can tell you one thing, I’m not going to consciously try to live from my Center. What was I thinking? I’m just going to walk with Him, as I always have. That was real wisdom talking, wasn’t it?

This morning, armed with My Utmost for His Highest, my Bible and my coffee, I read and, of course, pondered what I had read… but as I quieted myself to begin praying, I realized my mind was running around in circles—thinking about picking up the pies at Tami’s, taking Darin to work, going to Fort Wayne to get my medicine after that, getting my secret pal something for Mother’s Day, and wondering what kind of flowers I could find to take for church Sunday.

In the silence of that discovery, I began confessing my unbelief, my lack of faith and my rejection of His thoughts in favor of the lies of the enemy that I had allowed to infiltrate my thinking, and gradually, I found myself back in the Holy Center of eternal peace and joy, as my prayers for others continued.

      So what did I learn in the last 36 hours? I learned firsthand that sinking into self is a sure way to lose focus on Him and quench the Voice of His Holy Spirit, thereby opening the mind to receiving and dwelling on the lies of the enemy. God knew I needed to be reminded that ‘there but for His grace goes me’ in order to walk in compassion with those who, in their weakness, struggle with that very temptation. (Now, that is a loving God!)

But just as great as was His painful revelation of my weakness, my vulnerability and my sin, was His all-encompassing Love that wrapped its gentle arms around me and said, “You are mine. I forgive you. I love you with an everlasting love. I will never fail you or forsake you. Rest in My Arms, just as you so often found safety and restoration in the arms of your earthly father.” 

      So today, I encourage you to walk in honesty, openness and confession, not only with the Most High God you follow but with the ordinary people you walk beside. He will use your authenticity to draw others to His side where they will find:

  • Forgiveness from the only One who can erase their sins
  • Fellowship with the only One who can satisfy their every longing
  • Faith in the only One who will never fail or forsake them
  • Love from the One who loves them like no other.

When Someday I Read This Day

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Today is a new day opening before my very eyes,

a new page, perhaps a new chapter in the book of my life

that began with You when the worlds were made.

It is not a slate washed clean

but a fresh new page that awaits Your Hand.

Will I ignore tomorrow what You write today,

choosing my words of limited power

over Yours that have no end?

Will I glory in Your Words — or revel in my own?

When I look back someday at what I have written,

will I wonder what it was all about,

or will this day be written on the halls of my heart

where You abide with me?

Will I rejoice in bended knee at sin expressed,

at contrite heart at sin confessed?

When someday I read this day,

will it be as fresh as this crisp morning?

O Holy Father, write this day for me — indelibly —

on this resistant human heart that waits

to hear Your Voice saying, “This is the way, walk ye in it.”

The Importance of Trust

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The Importance of Trust

March 25, 2012

If you had a brother or sister growing up, you knew just about everything that went on in their life; and, depending on your relationship with them, I’m pretty sure you sympathized, or maybe even secretly rejoiced at times, when trouble came their way.

My brother Ronnie and I had different parents, but there never was a day that I felt he was anything less than my real brother, in every positive sense of the word.

The reasons were simple. We always ‘had each other’s back’—when things were good and when they were bad. When my brother talked to me, I listened; and when I talked to him, he listened. We understood each other, but the primary bond between us was an unshakeable loyalty built on the solid foundation of trust. He is gone now, but the lessons I learned in our relationship have stayed with me through the years.

In the summers we would escape to the woods behind our house to lay on the creek bank and share our dreams for the future and sometimes the fears about the present. And, in the winter we would climb the bales in the haymow to our secret room, which we walled in each year with fresh bales of straw. (It wasn’t totally secret because our dad sometimes climbed up to join us.)

My brother and I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that no matter what we shared during those times—the precious whispers of our heart or the harsh reality of our anger—our words would never become fodder for someone else’s ruminations. We were kindred spirits, fast friends, brother and sister, all rolled into one.

I know we were just two kids growing up on a farm in Indiana, but early on we developed a loyalty that many adults never know. Our mutual love and respect engendered trust, and so we learned to be trustworthy. Perhaps you had the same experience growing up. I hope you did.

Wouldn’t it be great if we never had to say to our brothers and sisters in Christ “Please don’t say anything to anyone” and they wouldn’t? Not even by sharing our concerns ‘in confidence’ with someone else? Or by mentioning it to us when other people are around?

We in the Family of Christ should never have to worry that what we have shared in private will ever be spoken publicly, whether it’s under the guise of a prayer ‘concern’ or just a slip of the lip. This nearly happened to me awhile ago, and it felt awful. I said ‘nearly’ because I was able to stop the person from revealing in the presence of others something I had shared in confidence.

By the way, when we open our mouths when we shouldn’t, we do a great job of conditioning people to keep their mouths shut when it comes to revealing needs, hurts, and yes, even sin. Is it any wonder that people don’t call us when they’re hurting and want someone to pray for them or maybe walk through the valley with them? Isn’t that what fellowship in the Family of God is supposed to be like?

There are consequences to our indiscretions when it comes to breaking a trust. Loose lips really can sink ships—ships like companionship, friendship and fellowship; discipleship, apostleship and leadership; and even worship.

Shouldn’t we be able to say to each other “Please don’t say anything to anyone…” and know that whatever we say will go only to God’s throne, and even then, not within anyone else’s hearing?

I firmly believe that God continues to call the Body of Christ to walk in honesty, openness and confession before Him and with each other—for our benefit, yes, but, additionally for the benefit of a world that is waiting for God’s people to rise up above their own self-interest and fulfill the Great Commission.

If we cannot trust each other enough to walk in honesty, openness and confession, how can we possibly think we can effectively reach out to a generation that, more often than not, describes the universal Church as:

  • Hypocritical
  • Pretentious
  • Irrelevant
  • Mean-Spirited
  • Judgmental

If we truly have a burden for lost souls, we will ask God to ‘do whatever it takes’ to prepare us to hear the darkest secrets, as well as the brightest hopes, of those He brings into our life to disciple.

My prayer is that someday I may say of all of my brothers and sisters in Christ, “We knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that no matter what we shared during those times, whether it was the precious whispers of our heart or the harsh reality of our anger, our words would never become fodder for someone else’s ruminations. We were kindred spirits, fast friends, and brothers and sisters, all rolled into one.” 

      I leave you with three questions to consider:

  • Is it possible for the Body of Christ to tear down the walls that keep us from reaching out to each other?
  • What will it take to do that—to engender trust between our brothers and sisters, so we may know beyond the shadow of a doubt that we, each one of us, are trustworthy?
  • Is that even possible?