The Longboard Prayer

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. (Philippians 4:6-7 The Message)

A fishing trip turned bad when my son Ben called home one night to report his and a friend’s longboard had been stolen. For those of you who haven’t been around teens lately, a longboard is a stretched out skateboard, with a matching extended number of digits on the price tag.  Longboards are also easily identifiable. My son’s has a bright blue background with an artist rendition of an Indian chief on its underbelly.

Grabbing my keys and heading out, I drove to the scene of the crime and listened to the boy’s description of their earlier unfolding drama.

“We were fishing and our boards were under the bridge,” my son said. “We saw three high schoolers running away from us carrying our boards.”

“It was one guy and two girls in short shorts. One girl wore a purple hat,” his friend added.

As the boys waited for the police to arrive, I felt certain that whoever stole the boards lived in the only nearby neighborhood. After all, teens are lazy, and on foot wouldn’t venture very far away from home. I decided to drive that neighborhood.

I prayed as I went, “Dear God, help us find these board if it’s your will.”

Up and down each street I drove praying and asking people if they’d seen kids on longboard. No one had. I drove around for about ten minutes and then my cell phone rang.

“Mom the police are here. Come back,” Ben said.

“I’ll try but I’m a little turned around.” Our streets in this part of Texas are not laid out in a grid and I wasn’t sure which way was back.

Making a couple of turn, trying to get going the right direction, I rounded a corner and my eyes landed on two girls up ahead with short shorts casually strolling down the left-hand sidewalk.

One girl held a longboard. A girl with a purple hat!

Feeling like a detective on a crime show, I let up on the gas. There cradled against her body was my son’s Indian chief longboard.

Blood and clarity pumped through my body as I quickly pulled over and jumped out of the car. I strode across the street never taking my eyes off the girl in the purple hat. Oblivious for a second to the crazed mom stalking her, she left the sidewalk and headed for a nearby house.

Coming up to her quickly, she saw me and instantly put the board on the ground.

“That’s my son’s longboard,” I said forcefully now about 5 feet from her.

She was silent.

“You stole it,” I added.

Nothing.

“Where’s the other one?” I demanded finally looking around at the other girl and a boy who had immerged from the house.

“I don’t know,” said the boy.

“I’m calling the cops,” I warned pulling my phone out of my pocket and beginning to dial.

“I think it’s inside,” said the boy.

“Go get it,” I said.

The boy went inside and came out with the other board. 

There were no words from them just stunned silence as I gave them a lecture and then strode back to the car, boards in hand, amazed at how God placed me in exactly the right place at the right time.

Later telling the story to a friend of how God helped me find my son’s board he asked, “Why would God care if Ben got his longboard back?” I admit it does seem weird sometimes what God chooses to intervene in and what he doesn’t. 

But to me it proves that God cares about the small parts of our lives as well as the big. My answer back was, “I don’t know God’s purpose:

It may have been a faith building mission for all involved.

It may have been a “straighten up” mission for the culprits. Quite possibly these teens needed to be scared out of bad behavior by a wild-eyed mother.

It may also be a story that circulates throughout the middle school, enough drama to be a great story that can plant seeds of faith wherever it lands.

And maybe it’s because God really cares about two teens and their good clean fun.”

But one thing I am sure of is God had a purpose and He cares about the little, and the big, and He wants us to pray about absolutely everything even a bright blue longboard with an artist rendition of an Indian chief on its belly!

Seven Thousand Feet Down

As we snake around the mountain roads, I lean to the inside. First twisting right, then left, all that separates us from rolling head-over-hills down the cliff is a piece of metal knee high. I forgot I was afraid of heights when I booked this trip to Mesa Verde National Park in Colorado.  Arriving at our destination 7,000 feet above sea level, we hike along a path dug out of the rock to the pueblo cliff dwellings. My heart beats harder than from the exertion and my legs threaten to freeze at a moments notice. I would have been the weak link in this 800 year old neighborhood at 100 Cliff Palace.

Back at our room for the night in the national park, we are granted a room with a view. Everyone else would love it but as I try to sleep, with the howling wind, the image of this lodge bolted into the cliff feeds my anxiety. I wonder if I will sleep at all. What ensues is a struggle between light and darkness in the pitch black stormy night on a cliff. I wrestle with my fearful thoughts for two hours while the rest of my family snores away.

I focus on the fear I don’t want to have.

I focus on the worry of being awake all night.

I focus on maintaining control and not letting the anxiety get the best of me.

It’s hard for me to put myself totally in God’s arms so I struggle against darkness for two hours.  Winning than losing and over again.

Around midnight I feel overwhelmed by the anxiety and pray for help.

Something changes, the battle is transformed, God takes charge and brings to mind what I’m thankful for. He changes my focus.

Lying in bed, I thank God for my husband, and children.

I thank God for my parents and sibling.

My muscles relax, terror loses it grip, and somehow I fall asleep free from anxiety. I wake up well rested and a bit wiser on a couple of fronts.

·         I realize that I am unable to fight any of my battles, even a war with fear, except with His help. 1 Peter 5:7 says cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. (NIV) Remarkably, I can’t do even this without God’s help.      

·         I also realize Biblical instructions can be taken to heart specifically. For example in Philippians 4:6 it says to not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  When I read this scripture, key words jump out at me: anxious, prayer, and thanksgiving. These are specific instructions. Anxiety is lessened when we pray and are thankful. It is a part of our nature that when we engage in a positive emotion, such as thankfulness or love, the negative emotions of fear lessen. 

This truth is continued in Philippians 4:8:

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. (NIV) We are in a battle between lightness and dark. By focusing on the dark the dark wins.

Prayer and a positive focus, these are God’s instructions for keeping negative emotions at bay whether we are worried about our children’s future, wondering how we can bear the pain, or are struggling with a fear of heights at seven thousand feet.

Dad I’d Like you to Meet my God

My dad died in October. Though I tried I didn’t make it back to see him in time. He took his last breath as my plane landed in Minneapolis with 3 ½ hours of driving still ahead of me. Frankly, I was mad about not making it to his death bed. Surely God could have arranged the whole situation a little better, but then I realized in fact he had.

You see my dad was an atheist. The reason I wanted to make it was to share my faith with him. When he took his last breath before I arrived, I started looking back. I realized I had already miraculously shared God with my father. 

It began a year earlier. While working on my new book Faith Marker Journey, I had recorded one of the many ways God had saved me.  Because of this process of writing it down, one day when I was having a phone conversation with my father, our discussion took a spiritual turn. The topic: the ordinarily forbidden subject of religion. Consistently when my dad talked about being atheist or how clearly false some beliefs were, I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to get into an argument about religion since our relationship seemed so fragile and arguing with a college professor seemed pointless.

This time the conversation started with ISIS and how fundamentalist religious group do atrocious things in the name of their faith. It went quickly to Christianity and the Crusades and then to how the story of Jesus was clearly made up because there wasn’t agreement between the gospels. Usually I would just listen but this time my story, the story I had written down, popped into my head, so I shared.  

I said that most people have a firm belief in God not because of what they read but because of what they experience. People believe in God because of their own very real personal God experiences.

“For example,” I said, “I have struggled with depression for much of my life.  Each time it came on, I’d feel this sinking sensation start in my heart. The feeling would build until I knew my heart would burst. The emotional pain was so intense and so physical, I always wondered if I would survive.”

“Then one night as I lay in bed with my husband beside me, I felt the sinking feeling again.  My first reaction was fear. I tightening my muscles. Pointlessly I tried to fight it. Then something changed. Acceptance flooded my heart as through my closed eyes an extremely bright light glared. There in the center was an image of Jesus. Being on the verge of depression suddenly changed to a feeling of bliss and euphoria.  Jesus intervened in my depression and gave me joy instead.”

After I finished my story, my father wondered out loud, “if we knew more about psychology we might be able to explain it a different way.”  But he stopped arguing, he couldn’t really disprove something I experienced and he knew that really the opposite was true. He knew that in fact our brains tend to go down the same path. We talked more but at the end of the hour long conversation, he said he really enjoyed our talk. Although he still didn’t agree, I think because of my story, he saw religion as not about some dogma out there but as personal relationships people have with God.

As I looked back on this I realized God knew everything that was going to transpire with my father long before it happened. He knew my father was going to be diagnosed with melanoma. He knew my father would quickly die. He knew I wasn’t going to make it back to see him. Finally, he knew I needed to share one of my faith stories on that normal day six months before any of the other drama unfolded. He knew what my father needed to find God!

Driving with my husband, after the sad call about my father, my husband suddenly began to sing a song that popped inexplicable into his head. I’d heard the song many time before but never in the same way. “Amazing Grace how sweet the sound.” I began to sing with him. “That saved a wretch like me.”

 “I once was lost.” I slowed as the words seem to speak directly to my heart, “but now I’m found. Was blind but now I see.” As the word "see" tumbled out of my mouth, the tears swelled in my eyes. I knew God was assuring me. My father, who once was lost, had been found!

“He made it!” I said to my husband and I praised God that I knew it was true!