Monthly Archives: December 2011

Just a Second…

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I am by nature impatient. I come from impatient stock. My beloved and sweet natured father is also famously and often hilariously impatient. I am not proud of my impatient nature. Slowly, ever so slowly, I am becoming more patient. Seven children and the cares of the world have a way of doing that to you.

I have an “impatient button” that all my kids love to push. When I ask them to do something I am often the recipient of the following maddening line: “Just a second…” (I am sure this has never happened to you…) This response always drives me crazy. Oftentimes, my children have absolutely no intention of doing what I have just asked them to do and they hope to placate me with this patronizing response. I think they hope that my age addled brain will soon forget what I asked them to do. Sometimes, they actually intend to do what I have asked them to do, but not during the next decade or at least not during the next lunar calendar. Finally, there is a darn good chance that my kids did not even listen to what I asked them to do or only caught a passing word or two of my request because they were preoccupied with a thousand and one other things infinitely more interesting than me their fuddy-duddy father.

What is an impatient paternal unit to do? Lose his patience. Even though I frequently lose my patience with my children (who doesn’t?) I am often struck by how incredibly patient our Heavenly Father is with all of us.

When we bring full-court pressure on God in prayer for something we have to have right now, he patiently listens to our request and then, because the past, present and future are before His eyes; because He is all knowing and because He perfectly knows and loves us, He decides how and when to answer our fevered request.

I often disagree with the timing of God in my life. I frequently find that for my flawed and hurried taste He moves much too slowly in my life. I find myself tapping my fingers waiting for God to get a move on it in my life.

Sometimes, I feel that He responds to my crisis du jour with a divine variation on a theme of “just a second.” This reminds me of a joke.

A man is talking to the Lord, trying to fathom His infinitude. “Lord,” he asks, “what’s a million years to you?” “A million years is a second to me,” the Lord explains. “And a million dollars?” A penny, the Lord replies. “Lord,” the man proceeds to ask, emboldened, “would you give me a million dollars?” “Sure,” the Lord replies. “Just a second.” (Henry Louis Gates, Jr., Colored People: A Memoir, p.136)

My impatience feeds my pride and there are times when I seriously think that that my sense of timing is better than God’s. That is the height of personal stupidity and pride. I know better than God? Really?

In sane and patient moments (I have a few of those) I realize that God knows what He is doing in my life and that maybe, just maybe I ought to jettison my flawed personal agenda and figure out what God’s agenda is for me. When I scratch my head sometimes and wonder why and what God is up to in my life I am reminded of what one wise and patient wag once said about God:

God is more concerned about our character

than He is about our comfort.

So, the next time you are feeling uncomfortable with God’s timing in your life, just remember that God’s “just a second” has everything to do with polishing and shaping your character and increasing your patience than it does with God making sure you are comfortable.

Are you comfortable with that?

God Becomes a Reality

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God is not a belief to which you give your assent. God becomes a reality whom you know intimately, meet everyday, one whose strength becomes your strength, whose love, your love. Live this life of the presence of God long enough and when someone asks you, “Do you believe there is a God?” you may find yourself answering, “No, I do not believe there is a God. I know there is a God.”

~Ernest Boyer, Jr.

Sweet Moses

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It is the day after Christmas. I am a little drained. It has been a good Christmas. A Christmas not without its challenges, but a good Christmas nonetheless. I am hoping that you, dear reader, had a good Christmas too. Two years ago I had a pretty remarkable experience out at the jail that I detailed in a post a year ago. I think might be worth sharing with you again. I hope you enjoy it.

It‘s time for a story, a true story that took place almost exactly two years ago.

First, let me give you a little background. We have struggled financially. I have unwisely, as it turns out, bet the family financial farm on a gigantic project I spent over 6 years feverishly working on. (This project was formally declared dead a few months after the Christmas of 2009.) Money was tight. Money had been tight the last bunch of Christmases.

My wife and I have a bunch of kids. They are all nice kids. We still have 6 children living at home. All our children have been really good sports about the economic challenges we have faced. I kind of hate to admit it; but our economic struggles have actually had the effect of bringing all of us much closer together, which is in and of itself a not-so-minor-miracle. Financial pressures are known to blow families up. I feel very blessed that this has not been the case with us. All my children have had to learn how to work. All of our children have part-time or full-time jobs. They are excellent employees. They are careful with their money. Money does not grow on trees at our home.

My youngest child and son, Andrew, had worked hard and had diligently saved his money from his part-time jobs. He finally had enough money saved up to pay cash for a sweet ride, a metallic blue-green 1996 Lexus ES 300 with lots of miles. It was his pride and joy. He kept it immaculate. God had smiled on my son.

It had been a really rugged week, with boatloads of bad financial news. The intrepid family vessel, the U.S.S. HARRIS, had been hit by multiple financial torpedoes and was taking on a lot of water. Our home was in the cold shadow of foreclosure. Creditors were angry and impatient. However, the worst financial torpedo—drum roll please—was that my cute little daughter, Abby, had just wrecked my son’s sweet ride, his pride and joy, his 10-day old 1996 Lexus ES 300. The accident was mostly her fault. Now, God did not seem to be smiling so much on us.

To add insult to injury I had liability-only insurance on my son’s car. I wanted to save a few bucks. Because my daughter was ticketed for the accident the insurance company would not cover the substantial damages ($3200) to my son’s car. I had the unenviable task of explaining to my incredulous son why our car insurance would fix the other car but would not fix his car. There was much weeping and gnashing of teeth at our humble little home. Understandably, my son and daughter were both devastated. I did not have money for the needed repairs. I was devastated too.

For the last two years I have served as a volunteer at County Metro Jail. I teach a couple of Sunday school classes and go visiting cell-to-cell in maximum security. It’s kind of pathetic and perhaps a telling commentary on my life, but the three hours I spend every Sunday at County Metro are the highlight of my week.

I was so utterly jangled by the accident, the looming $3200 dollar repair bill, my automobile insurance screw-up and by the weeping and lamentations of my two devastated children that I seriously thought about not going out to the jail on Sunday. I was not in a good place. However, by Wednesday I decided to suck it up and show up at County Metro on Sunday. Besides, my awful week would be a marvelous week for any of the inmates at County Metro.

As the week wore on I kept beating myself up because I did not get the right kind of insurance on my son’s car. I was fiercely second-guessing myself. An inner movie, expertly produced in living color by yours truly, an inner movie that brutally featured all my recent and not so recent stupid financial decisions, had just premiered in my fertile and discouraged mind and was playing around-the-clock. As much as I wanted to stop the continuous showings of my inner movie, I simply could not turn the projectors off. By the time Thursday and Friday rolled around I was on the wrong side of miserable. I was a wreck. I could not find or feel peace. I prayed fervently all week for peace, but God did not seem to be in a great hurry about coming to my rescue.

Sunday morning finally rolled around. I was bereft of any personal peace. I was hoping the three hours at the jail would give me a break from the wet blanket of gloom that seemed to drape over me. As I went from cell-to-cell in maximum security my cares seemed to temporarily fade into the background. Typically, when I visit the guys in maximum security I share a short message or a scripture with the inmates and then ask them if I can leave a prayer with them. I also ask if there is anything they want me to pray about. Almost all the inmates are happy for the prayer and usually there is a thing or two they want me to pray about.

My allotted time in maximum security was rapidly coming to a close. I had had some great visits. Still no peace, but I felt better than when I left home. I had one more cell to visit before the guards would herd us out the door. I had visited these two guys before and had a blast talking to them. Moses and Amerik were two African-Americans in their 30s. Both had megawatt smiles that could illuminate the entire cell-block. Both had more soul and hipness in their pinky fingers than I, an uptight-middle-aged-slightly-doughy-white-guy, have ever possessed. “Brother Steve, so glad to see you today. What is the word today? What are you going to share with us?” they practically shouted to me as I approached their cell. Their smiles and friendly greetings warmed my peace-less heart. Moses possessed a singularly pleasant voice to listen to, a sweet voice infused with just the right touch of hip-hop and soulful sunshine.

As I shared the word with them, I sort of morphed into a black storefront preacher. I couldn’t help it. For a moment, dare I hope, I might have even possessed a molecular amount of soul. I told them that we should all “come boldly to the throne of grace” for forgiveness and mercy.” (Hebrews 4:16) “Amen, brother!” they exclaimed to me, their temporarily soulful preacher. The floodgates of the Spirit were opened as we shared some of our favorite scriptures together. What a visit.

Time to end my visit. I asked these black brothers of mine if I could leave a prayer with them. Moses smiled angelically at me and sweetly asked: “Brother Steve, can I say a prayer for you?” No inmate in maximum security had ever asked to pray for me. Did Moses somehow know what kind of a week I had had? Deep inside of me I thought: “Would you? Would you say a prayer for me, Moses? I really need someone to say a prayer for me.” Did Moses know that I had desperately prayed, without any success, for peace throughout the week? I was about to find out first-hand that God answers prayers in surprising ways.

Standing no more than a foot away from Moses I meekly bowed my head and closed my eyes. Moses began the prayer: “Father God, we are so happy that Brother Steve is here today. Father God, when he came into the pod today he just glowed with the Spirit. Father God, he has made our week.” By this time I was being reduced to a steadily growing puddle of tears. His prayer was so sincere, so beautiful. It was a long prayer. Among other things, Moses asked Father God to bless me, to bless my wife and to bless my family. Moses continued to pray without ceasing and said some of the nicest things I have ever heard anyone ever say about me. The odd thing was that a lot of the things Moses mentioned in his prayer were very specific and personal things about me, things only my wife and parents would know about me. How could Moses have possibly known these things about me? Who exactly are you, Moses? What was the source of these unexpectedly soothing and spirit-infused words said with such soulful sunshine? I felt like pinching myself as he prayed.

While Moses was praying I wondered: “What would I see if I opened my eyes? Would I see an angel?  Was Jesus himself praying for me? “ I had never heard a prayer like this one before. I didn’t peek. During the prayer the peace I had desperately sought all week suddenly washed over me. I was soaked to the bone in the sweet peace of the Savior. After he closed his prayer, I opened my eyes and with tears streaming down my cheeks I said, shaking my finger at him: “Moses, look what you’ve done to me.” Moses smiled and simply said: “Brother Steve, it was a gift from God.”

Now can you see why I love going to County Metro every Sunday? Can you see why I love the inmates I visit and teach? This powerful experience of mine was just dripping in irony: an inmate praying for a volunteer; a maximum security inmate answering the fevered prayer of a volunteer; and a maximum security inmate serving as a conduit for the Holy Spirit. Wow. How utterly unexpected. How cool.

When I floated back home from the jail I immediately and tearfully told my wife in minute detail what had just happened. I told all my children in minute detail at the Sunday dinner table what had happened. Heck, I tell people I barely know what happened to me, in minute detail, Christmas time of 2009 at County Metro. I feel compelled to shout it from the rooftops about how Father God answered my prayer for personal peace. I shudder to think that I briefly contemplated not going to County Metro that Sunday.

Dear reader, God listens to and answers prayers. I know that He does. Be open to answers to prayer that are “outside of the box.” Be open to the fact that Father God listens to each of our prayers and that on many occasions He uses people like Moses, and people like you and me to answer the prayers of His beloved sons and daughters. Listen to and follow the gentle enticings of the Spirit. Great things will happen when you do. Can there be anything better than being an answer to someone else’s prayers?

We have yet to be delivered from our financial purgatory, but we have been blessed with scads of peace, the “peace of God, which passeth all undestanding” (Philippians 4:7), the peace of knowing that things will all work out in the end and that God is very aware of our exigent circumstances. That’s more than good enough for me right now. However, when I am in the deadly grip of discouragement and when the foreclosure of fear threatens to evict me from my home of faith, I often reflect upon Moses’ sweet and tender prayer and I am, once again, filled with peace.

Post-Christmas Work

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THE WORK OF CHRISTMAS

When the song of the angels is stilled,

When the star in the sky is gone,

When the kings and princes are home,

When the shepherds are back with their flock,

The work of Christmas begins:

To find the lost,

To heal the broken,

To release the prisoner,

To rebuild the nations,

To bring peace among brothers,

To make music in the heart.

Howard Thurman

Next Christmas

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The Holiday Season can sometimes spotlight the wintry and hard things in our lives. For instance, a widow may more acutely feel the loss of a beloved spouse during the Holidays than at any other time of the year. Also, the financial pressures of the Holidays can cast a glaring, white-hot spotlight on those of us currently in the midst of intense financial storms.

The last few Christmases have been kind of difficult for the family because of our prolonged financial travails. They have been especially difficult for my amazing wife, Jean. In order to cope with our elongated financial drought, she would often tell herself that “next Christmas” things would be different. “Next Christmas,” she would say to herself, “things will be different. Steve’s big project will finally hit and the family will be delivered from financial bondage.” My wife’s fond hope for financial deliverance by “next Christmas” would help her get through the immediate Christmas Season, but it also set her up for a large dose of disappointment if our financial deliverance did not occur by “next Christmas.”

Well, my big project never hit. Our much anticipated and fervently prayed for financial deliverance has yet to occur.

When “next Christmas” actually rolled around the inescapable fact that we were still smack dab in the middle of our financial storms would slap my wife (and me) in the face. Unfortunately, some crises don’t find a solution by “next Christmas.” Dashed hopes for financial deliverance can lead to disappointment, disappointment can deliver up heaping servings of discouragement; and a steady diet of discouragement can lead to despair and bitterness. The Land of Despair and Bitterness is a not a destination resort you want to spend any time visiting.

Admiral James Bond Stockdale was one of the most highly decorated officers in the history of the Navy. He was awarded 26 personal combat decorations including the Congressional Medal of Honor and 4 Silver Stars. In 1965 while returning from a bombing run his fighter plane was disabled by anti-aircraft fire. He became a prisoner of war, the highest ranked Naval officer POW in the Viet Nam War.

After ejecting from his downed fighter plane Stockdale suffered a broken back and other injuries. On the ground he was nearly beaten to death by local villagers until he was taken into custody. Stockdale spent over seven years in the Hoa Lo Prison—the infamous Hanoi Hilton. He was kept in solitary confinement, in total darkness, for 4 years and chained in leg irons for 2 years. He was the inspirational leader of all the other POWs at the Hanoi Hilton.

Upon his return in 1973 he was recognized for his extraordinary bravery and leadership. He continued his career in the Navy and he retired from the Navy as an admiral. He was a true American hero.

In his bestselling book, Good to Great, James C. Collins, interviewed Stockdale about his experiences and coping strategies as a POW. Collins was curious why Stockdale was able to survive the hellish living conditions and the near continuous physical and mental torture that the Hanoi Hilton offered and others did not. Collins asked Stockdale what kind of POWs didn’t survive the rigors of the Hanoi Hilton. Stockdale’s response surprised Collins.

“Oh, that’s easy, the optimists. Oh, they were the ones who said, ‘We’re going to be out by Christmas.’ And Christmas would come, and Christmas would go. Then they’d say, ‘We’re going to be out by Easter.’ And Easter would come, and Easter would go. And then Thanksgiving, and then it would be Christmas again. And they died of a broken heart.”

I would have thought that the optimists would have done well during their stay at the Hanoi Hilton. However, optimism has its limitations. Stockdale believed that optimism must be firmly planted in the nitty-gritty reality of the present, no matter how awful that nitty-gritty present may be.

My sweet wife is tough as nails. She would have quickly learned how to adapt to the Hanoi Hilton if she had been a POW. However, she would eventually have to jettison her “next Christmas” line of thinking.

The overly optimistic hope of “next Christmas” would not work at the Hanoi Hilton. It won’t work with some of our really dicey problems. Some of our complicated problems may not be problems that can even be solved. Perhaps some of the hard “stuff” we deal with, all the enigmas-wrapped-in-a-mystery sort of challenges we have in our lives might be facts that we simply have to cope with rather than solve.

If a problem has no solution, it may not be a problem, but a fact not to be solved but to be coped with over time. (Shimon Peres)

How did Stockdale manage to survive the fact of his stay at the Hanoi Hilton? How can people like you and I survive our extended stays at our personal Hanoi Hiltons? Stockdale eloquently explained to Collins how he was able to endure the unspeakably difficult and unrelenting reality of his POW experience:

I never lost faith in the end of the story, I never doubted not only that I would get out, but also that I would prevail in the end and turn the experience into the defining event of my life, which, in retrospect, I would not trade.

Candidly, I am a bit surprised that we have not yet been delivered from financial bondage. We have offered up countless sincere prayers. I have worked diligently on projects that offered great hope of financial deliverance. Why hasn’t our much anticipated financial deliverance arrived on the scene? I think a lot of people who know us well are also surprised (and frustrated) that we have not yet checked out from the “Financial Hanoi Hilton.”

Nonetheless, can you explain to me why I currently find myself so full of faith and hope in the midst of our financial afflictions? Medications? Nope. Mental illness? You be the judge. Like Stockdale, I have not “lost faith in the end of the story.” My wife and family have not “lost faith in the end of the story.” We still have hope for deliverance. We believe that things will eventually work out, and in the meantime, we are learning lots of unbelievably cool things—the hard way. I have been forced to take the long view of this fine financial fix we find ourselves in. God has some very important things to teach us through these financial travails of ours and I need to listen and learn very carefully.

In a sane moment, when I get back off the ledge, sit down, take a couple of deep breaths and thoughtfully and prayerfully reflect upon all the things that have happened to us during our extended stay at the “Financial Hanoi Hilton,” I am amazed at both what we have learned and what we have endured as a family. I’d give high marks, especially to my wife, for our individual and collective family performances under some very trying financial circumstances.

Let me share with you a stunning insight I have been blessed with during our financial struggles. The blessings of God do not always come in the form of dramatic deliverance from our trials and tribulations. Even Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego were not saved from the fiery furnace, but were saved in the fiery furnace. (Daniel 3) God does not often dramatically deliver us from our thorny problems, more often than not He chooses to bless us in our afflictions. I have been greatly blessed in my financial troubles.

Looking back, the flames of the fiery financial furnace have almost magically magnified my ability to handle the heat of the fiery furnace. I never realized that that I could handle the heat I now routinely handle. At the risk of sounding like I am patting myself on the back, I have come to recognize that I am much more skilled at handling adversity and that my financial burdens have been divinely eased and lightened.

And I will also ease the burdens which are put on your shoulders, that you cannot feel them upon your backs, even when you are in bondage; and this I will do that ye may stand as witnesses for me hereafter, and that ye may know of a surety that I, the Lord God, do visit my people in their afflictions.

And now it came to pass that the burdens…were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord. (Mosiah 24:14-15)

I am a witness that God does, in fact, ease the burdens that are placed on our shoulders. My burdens, in the midst of our fiery financial furnace have been made light.  The Lord has blessed and strengthened me to bear my burdens. Don’t get me wrong; I would absolutely love to be delivered from my fiery financial furnace in the same miraculous manner that Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego were delivered from King Nebuchadnezzar’s mega hot fiery furnace, but if that kind of deliverance, in the wisdom of God, is not to be, I am thrilled and grateful that God will at least ease and lighten my burdens in the fiery furnaces of my life.

However, I must admit to you, that I sometimes struggle with submitting cheerfully and patiently to God’s plans for me in this fiery financial furnace of mine. That might take a while.

Gotta Have a Friend in Jesus

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Prepare yourself, you know it’s a must

 Gotta have a friend in Jesus

Norman Greenbaum, Spirit in the Sky, 1969

Years ago, I found myself shoehorned into the back of a packed plane heading for New York City. A promising business venture, one I thought was going to be a surefire success, had just cratered. It was a start-up company, which did not, as it turned out, start up. It coughed. It sputtered. But the engine never turned over. I was bummed out and more than a little bitter at how things had played out.

I was not in a mentally or spiritually healthy place. My bitterness had gone from merely simmering on the stove of my soul to a roiling boil. Even though I had snagged a job in the wake of my start-up debacle, this job did not pay all that well and I had a sneaking suspicion that the new job was not going to turn out be employment nirvana. I was right.

Wedged in the back of the packed plane against the window I vainly hoped against hope that the adjoining middle seat would miraculously remain vacant so I could spread out a little and stew in my juices. Just before the plane backed away from the terminal a pleasant looking fellow, maybe 10 years older than me, slid over into the seat and nodded at me.

You just never know who is going to end up sitting next to you on a plane.

It turns out that my seatmate for the long flight was an affable and handsome Irishman businessman, by the name of Michael. He was visiting the United States on business. When he opened his mouth to speak I was graced to listen to a singularly mellifluous Irish brogue. It was a lush velvet voice oozing with Irish charm. If he had told me that that he owned and operated a four-leaf clover factory just a few miles out of Dublin and that Ireland’s prime minister was, in fact, a leprechaun I would have believed him.

We hit it off. We got to know each other as we zoomed towards New York City. After a while he asked me what I did for a living and I started to slowly tell him about my recent failed business venture. He was an excellent listener and he asked me insightful questions that showed me that he was “picking up what I was putting down.” It quickly became apparent to me that he was a trustworthy and wise man. Over the din of the jet engines I laid out my disappointments and my anger towards my former business partner and the failure of the business venture.

Michael was, in fact, a leprechaun of sorts. His eyes didn’t eerily twinkle nor did he magically pull out bowls of Lucky Charms for us to nosh on while we talked, but he was able to tell me the directions to the nearest “pot of gold” for my wounded and bitter heart. It seems that Michael had experienced an almost identical business catastrophe to mine on the other side of the pond.

I kid you not.

He listened intently to my tale of woe and was able to not only perfectly empathize with my plight but he was also able to dispense some amazing advice that began the process of flushing my bitterness down the drain. Because Michael perfectly understood what I was going through, he gave me spot on advice. I was the recipient of a marvelous and much needed tender mercy. Many years after this remarkable experience I can still hear his melodic brogue voice in my head:

“Steve, let it be. Let it go.”

At the end of the flight I was frankly surprised that he didn’t pull out a distinctive bright green hat, place it jauntily on his head and with a twinkle in his eye and a cute little wrinkle of his nose suddenly disappear into a pile of emerald pixie dust.

(By the way, I followed his advice…)

Wouldn’t it be fabulous to always have someone to talk to that knows exactly what you were going through because he himself has gone through the exact same thing? Wouldn’t it be great to have that someone give you spot on advice and “talk you off the ledge” with this perfect insight?

Well, guess what, there is someone that knows precisely what you are going through because he has gone through exactly what you have gone through and what you are going through.

Jesus Christ.

What? Come again?

How can the Savior possibly know exactly what we are going through? After all, He led a perfect, sinless life. Yeah, I know that He took upon Himself our sins, but how can this perfect, sinless Savior of ours know what an imperfect, sinful man is going through?

Every Sunday for the last three years I have had the great privilege of going cell-to-cell in maximum security and teaching Sunday school classes to the inmates at a local jail. Each of the inmates are walking, talking train wrecks. Drugs, alcohol and sexual perversions have hijacked their lives. Relationship bridges to family members and loved ones have been detonated and blown up time and time again. It is an awful sight to behold. Yet, this wonderful Savior of ours has been wherever they have wandered and wherever we have wandered. It does not matter how dark and how disgusting our journeys of sin have been. He has been there. He knows where we are coming from. How can this be?

It dawned on me while serving out at the jail why Jesus is our perfect and perfectly empathetic friend. I also came to the realization that He is dying (and died) to come to our aid.

I love to teach the inmates about an obscure and old-fashioned word—succor. This word means, “to run to the aid” of someone, and then I love to share the following verses of scripture with them:

And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.

And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death, which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor [“run to the aid of”] his people according to their infirmities. (Alma 7: 11-12)

I teach these brothers of mine that Christ’s atonement was an infinite atonement, that not only did Christ take upon Himself all of our sins, but He also took upon Himself all of our afflictions, pains, sicknesses, infirmities, disappointments and frustrations. This why He can perfectly relate to every nasty thing that they have done and every nasty thing we have done. I teach them that Christ is poised to run to our aid (succor) and that because He took upon Himself our pains, afflictions, temptations, sicknesses, and infirmities, including bitter disappointments and frustrations, Jesus perfectly understands what is going on in our lives and He knows exactly how to help us—each and every one of us! It does not matter have badly we have muddled and mangled our lives with sin and depravity, He can extricate us from the deepest darkest pits of despair. In all cases and in all situations. No exceptions.

Jesus offers hope, consolation and deliverance from the depravity and hopelessness of lifestyles filled to the brim with violence, drugs, sex and rock n roll.

Truly, in order to survive the train wrecks of our lives and make it back to our heavenly home and to our heavenly parents we “gotta have a friend in Jesus.”