Reprinted from Mission Possible, a nonfiction resource
for women by Deborah McCarragher. Copyright 2009 by Alabaster Box Publishing
Inc. Used by permission of author.
You’ve Embraced
Christ – Now What?
My remarriage in
1982 was closure to a lonely period of singleness after being divorced for five
years. My new husband was intelligent, caring and romantic, good looking, had a
good long-term career, and kept a clean, well organized apartment. That was
enough for me!
In the spring of
1989 my neighbor had repeatedly asked me to church and I had repeatedly
refused. I didn’t need church thank you very much, and I politely made numerous
excuses. She, however, didn’t give up. I eventually gave in and said, “yes”,
“only for my son’s sake,” I reminded her. Well, GOD had other plans!
I was radically
saved that first Sunday morning. I had asked many questions in my Sunday school
class, and during the invitation, I walked the aisle with my bible study
teacher. I remember feeling emotionally worn out that afternoon. I took my son
to the park as my husband was working that weekend, and I reflected on all that
had transpired. Little did I know God would begin a work in me that would take
me on a spiritual journey I didn’t expect.
Day after day,
week after week, month after month I grew closer to God, hungered for God and
began serving Him from my heart. I took my 21/2 year old son every time I
attended church. My husband would nod his head in approval and wave as we left
each week for church.
The spiritual
skirmish had begun. Don’t underestimate the enemy. I did not fully understand
spiritual warfare and would learn about that as time progressed. I began to
grow in my understanding of God’s Word and how Satan opposes a couple’s holy
union. I would learn about “putting on the whole armor of God” (Ephesians
6:10-19). I would learn that “standing firm” was mandatory – not an option. My
spiritual clothing was necessary for survival as “half of a saved couple.” God
desires for you to become “one flesh” – at the altar and in the spirit realm.
Satan can’t bear the thought of it. This is where your perseverance plays a
huge part.
The enemy will
mercilessly bombard you with thoughts, feelings, emotions and physical disdain
for your mate. You must take every thought captive (2 Corinthians 10:5) and
stop looking at your mate as the enemy. Don’t let his actions and words provoke
you into disobedience.
Paul writes in
Ephesians 4:29, “Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth, but
what is good for building up, that it may impart grace to the hearers.” Matthew
18:9 states, “and if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out and cast it from
you.” So it goes with your tongue.
Stop committing
spiritual murder against your mate! Bite it off and cast it away! Don’t sin by
grieving God as you curse the very person God wills to join you to, as ONE!
ANTICIPATION is
our greatest asset in the fulfillment of your spouse’s conversion!
Remember that
“the battle is the Lord’s” (I Samuel 17:47) and earnestly give the salvation of
your mate to God in prayer. Early on in your conversion it seems easier to be
hopeful concerning your husband’s salvation. You will need an added measure of
faith as the years go by.
In Romans 4:18
Paul refers to Abraham by saying, “who, contrary to hope, in hope believed.”
This is the type of faith you will need for your husband’s salvation.
God is your
spiritual husband while your mate is not yet the priest of your home. Your
obedience and submission to Him are essential as God knows our shortcomings and
weaknesses; yet He uses them to perfect us in waiting. Perseverance is one
thing you will need with a “holy dig in your heels” attitude and a
“stubbornness in the Lord” towards the salvation of your mate. Salvation is a
personal thing. I had responded to The Lord’s call, and my husband had his own
choice to make.
Seek and Find
Ephesians 6:10
speaks of being “strong in the Lord and in the power of His might.” How does
Paul’s exhortation compare with what God spoke to Joshua in Joshua 1:9?
Ephesians 6:11-12
says to “...put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand
against the wiles of the devil.” What does verse 12 say about our enemy? Where
does the enemy reside? What does Paul say in 2 Timothy 2:26 about our state of
mind and our venerability?
In I Samuel
17:37-39 David was blessed and released by King Saul to go fight the giant
Goliath. David clothed himself with Saul’s armor, helmet, and coat of mail.
What happens when we try to go out “to battle” with natural armor as opposed to
our God-given armor? What made the difference in David’s approach to his battle
with Goliath (vs. 45-47)? What does Paul say about our armor in 2 Corinthians
6:7?
A good soldier
keeps his armor in top condition and checks his weapons frequently for flaws,
weaknesses and defects. Ephesians 6:13 says to “take up the whole armor of
God...” Read Ephesians 6:14-17 and name each piece of armor and identify its
function. Which pieces are defensive in nature, and which ones are offensive?
Can we be fully protected if we’re missing one piece? Why or why not? According
to Hebrews 4:12, what does Paul say about our most important weapon?
2 Corinthians
10:3-5 teaches that our warfare is spiritual in nature. Natural (or worldly)
methods and weapons are not effective. How does this correlate to what Paul
addresses in Ephesians 6:12? Remember, your mate is not the enemy. How is your
obedience to Christ as your “spiritual Commander” effective against the devil’s
tactics? What is the outcome when we follow God’s ways?
What is “faith in
action”? In James 2:14, James makes the point that we can say we have faith.
Hebrews 11:1 says, “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the
evidence of things not seen”. How does Hebrews 11:1 compare with Romans
8:24-25? What is James’ main point in James 2:17-24? Do you think our part is
to help God, or let Him use us to bring Him glory?
TO READ MORE, you
can purchase Mission Possible by
Deborah McCarragher at:
Fiction
Reprinted from Meander Scar, a novel by Lisa J Lickel.
Copyright 2010 by BlackLyon Publishing. Used by permission of BlackLyon.
Meander Scar is
healed earth alongside a waterway that skewed from the boundaries of its
naturally straight course. Whether rushing or dribbling, waterways want to flow
straight. When a river runs into a barrier, such as a large rock, its course
begins to bend. The river circles until it meets up with its original boundary.
The reunited waters abandon the circular path to run true again. The abandoned
meander is first a small lake, then a swamp, then a scar.
“Place
me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong
as death, its ardor unyielding at the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a
mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away. If
one were to give all the wealth of his house for love, it would be utterly
scorned” Song of Songs 8:6-7.
* * *
Ann Ballard
jerked awake, shaken by a rumble she felt clear to her bones. A dazzling flash
of light burned her retinas when she glanced through the living room window.
She jumped and felt her heart stutter at the resulting roll of thunder that
rattled the panes of glass.
At least she’d
been saved from sinking into the nightmare again. Three times in a row,
whenever she had closed her eyes, she dreamed of being trapped in a swampy pool
on the banks of the winding Black Earth Creek, helplessly watching her son
Ritchie and Trey struggle against a current. The fact that the creek was not
that big in real life didn’t seem to matter in her dream.
Ann tossed aside
the afghan that had been covering her feet and stood. Only little old ladies
took naps in the afternoon. What was the matter with her? The magazine she’d
been reading slipped to the floor, sending the photograph she used as a
bookmark spilling out. She snatched up the picture before it bent. She knew
what sleeping during the day would lead to: wandering her big empty house at
night, wide awake and scaring herself silly at every creak. Probably another
headache, too. One that would take two days of head-banging and nausea to get
over.
Another crack of
lightning sent her scurrying to the kitchen. Dinner. Make dinner. Anything to
distract herself from the storm.
Speaking of
which...Ann stopped in front of the cupboard and rubbed her arms. Where had she
stored the battery-operated lantern? Were the power cells charged and ready?
She had not swept the basement all summer and hoped she would not have to wade
through curtains of cobwebs if the severe weather forced her to take shelter
down there.
Long ago, her
first thoughts in inclement weather went to protecting her family. Since she
had been alone, wondering who would come to her rescue if she became trapped
like those Chinese earthquake victims was turning into a sour hobby—especially
on weekends when her niece Maeve was gone. One thing she knew for sure: Her
mother-in-law wouldn’t be the first in line to save her. Maybe Ritchie would
care. After a few days, anyway, when she was due for supper at his and
Colleen’s house in Portage and did not show up with the casserole.
The doorbell
rang. Ann walked down the hall, grinning at the thought of Donna, her
mother-in-law who hadn’t liked being a grandmother, becoming a
great-grandmother. She fingered the colored square of paper in her hand while
she pushed aside the filmy panel covering the sidelights to check out her
visitor.
Bonus. A
beautiful, dark-haired man stood on her step. Almost any company would be a
welcome interruption. Ann opened the door to a gust of chilled wet breeze.
Goose bumps rose at the sudden drop of temperature the coming storm brought. A
scurrying rustle of dried leaves swirled on the unswept deck of her pillared
front porch. Rain slashed at his little car on the brick drive.
Did she recognize
him? Something about the nose, the photograph! Ann resisted the urge to compare
her picture with her guest.
The man’s lips
tilted into a practiced smile as he held out a hand. “Mrs. Ballard…Ann? Do you
remember me? Mark? I’m Mark Roth. Trey’s brother? We lived next door.”
Yes, yes. That
was it. He squatted at the edge of the frame in her photograph of Ritchie and
Trey in fifth grade with a catch of bluegills. How could she have forgotten
Mark’s eyes? Even when he had been a high-schooler, those eyes had been the
talk of the neighborhood ladies. Arresting blue, the iridescent color of
bluebird feathers, Patricia from across the way used to say. Patricia always
had been a bit of a nature freak.
Ann put a hand to
her mouth and held up the picture with the other. “Well, this is amazing. I was
just cleaning Ritchie’s closet and thinking about the boys and their fishing
and found this photograph.” What on earth made her say such a ridiculous thing?
“Oh, you don’t care about that. Please, come in.”
Ann pulled the
door wide and gestured. He had filled out from the wiry athlete who took the
basketball team to a regional championship. How many years had passed since she
last saw him? Ritchie’s high school graduation. Mark had gone east to college
and stayed except for an occasional visit. After Trey’s accident a few years
later, the Roths moved away from Wisconsin.
When Mark’s broad
back was turned, Ann smoothed her hair and tugged her blouse straight, took a
deep breath and prayed her deodorant was still working.
Mark preceded her
into the living room and, with sweet attentiveness in enchanting smile and
raised brows, waited until she had taken her own seat before he settled into a
place of his own. Wow—no one had manners like that anymore. She perched on the
edge of one of the oxblood club chairs on either side of the formal brocade
sofa. “Well, how are you? It’s been a long time. Are you visiting friends?”
“I’m fine, thank
you. I’ve moved back to town. Just a week ago, as a matter of fact.”
“You moved from
Virginia? So, you quit your job? I’m afraid your parents and I haven’t kept up
much, just a note once in a while, since their…retirement.”
Out of the corner
of her eye, Ann saw the rumpled stack of newspapers she had left on the end
table and a cobweb hanging from the lampshade. Unexpected company rarely happened.
Shame! How could have let the place go? She looked back at her guest before he
answered. “I’ve accepted a position with Jung and Royce.”
A tingle of
surprise made her raise her eyebrows at the name of the well-known private law
firm here in Clayton. Unfortunately, she and Gene had required their services
more than once to yank Ritchie out of some scrape. That, besides their general
legal business. “Todd Royce was a golfing partner of my husband Gene’s. I hope
it works out for you. They must think highly of your abilities.”
Mark turned his
head toward the cold gas fireplace. He shrugged and faced her again. “I’ve had
a few successes. I hoped to catch up on news from the old neighborhood. I heard
Ritchie and Colleen are expecting a baby. And I wondered how you were doing.”
Ann nodded and
smiled. “I’m well. It’s nice of you ask. And excited for Ritchie, even though
that will make me a grandmother.” Ann jumped back to her feet like some
excitable rabbit. “Forgive me. Why don’t I find us a something to snack on?”
She started down the hall only to hear him follow her.
Her kitchen, with
its seldom used gleaming copper-bottomed pots and dark flecked granite
countertops, felt small and cold. She flipped a switch to light the sink area
and the swag over the breakfast table set in front of the patio doors. She and
Gene used to do a lot of entertaining. In fact, Ann used to do a lot of things,
but it seemed that no one wanted half a couple in the spotlight. Maybe they
thought her circumstances were contagious.
Snacks. Right.
Ann checked the chrome refrigerator, although she knew exactly what she had in
there: a quart of skim milk three days past the due date, some yogurt, old
tortillas, and leftovers from the church guild lunch meeting a week ago. Drat.
The refrigerator fairy had not visited. Cooking for one didn’t call for a
stockpile of food. Maeve, her niece, always ate on campus. Ann closed the door
with a grimace. Stalling for time she asked, “How do you like being a lawyer?”
Mark settled back
against the counter and folded his arms.
Ann let her
eyelids half close as she studied him. She tried to keep her breathing even, to
direct her heartbeats to remain steady. Mark was definitely no longer the sweet
polite young man from next door, but an adult in his…let’s see…thirties? He was
nine years older than Ritchie and Trey; which made him nearly thirty-five.
Eleven years younger than she. And he did not resemble any of the staid lawyers
she did business with at Ballard, Gorman and Wicht, Gene’s company, where she
worked as a CPA two days a week.
Eleven years…not
so many. Men married much younger women all the time. In fact, just last
year…stop it. Where did that come from? Ann watched Mark’s lips move, answering
her question, while she stood there like a smitten idiot. Thinking ridiculous
dreamy scenarios. Watching him like a lusty lonely widow—which she was not. A
widow, anyway.
But he was
pleasant to look at. His smooth face showed more character lines than her
son’s. His deep chest and flat stomach under the soft gray dress shirt and dark
pleated slacks hinted at regular workouts, something the swimmer in her
appreciated. She tuned back in to his words.
“I love helping
people solve their problems, especially the folks who’ve been victimized. You
know, the easy targets. I worked for a grass-roots group last year who
represented landowners over an Abandoned Mine Land property dispute with a
reclamation company.”
Ann tore her gaze
away and hunted for clean glasses in the cupboard to his right. “So, you sound
like you’re settling in.” He wasn’t likely to find too many victims to help at
Todd Jung’s prestigious firm, but she kept her mouth shut. “Is it hard to
change firms? Or does everyone do business pretty much the same way?”
Mark took the two
tumblers she grabbed and turned on the tap. “The work I do, estate planning and
business law, has to work across multiple states, but every firm has its own
way of handling clients.”
Ann looked for
ice cubes, hoping they had not evaporated since the Fourth of July, the last
time she knew she had any. They took their glasses to the kitchen table.
Lightning crackled outside her patio. She gasped at the immediate report of
thunder.
Mark pulled her
chair out for her. “Close one.”
Ann focused on
his calm expression then relaxed. “Seems like this has been going on for long
enough already.”
“I listened to
the radio on the way over here. Sounds like a quick-moving storm. Should be out
of here soon.”
They watched the
play of cloud-to-cloud lightning for a few minutes. Like Mark said, the clouds scudded
along. He told her about some of the spectacular storms he had witnessed in the
hills around Lynchburg. Ann circled the rim of her glass with her finger,
trying to think of something witty and mature to say. It had been years since
she’d had a personal conversation with a man to whom she was not related. “You
must have liked it there in Virginia to have stayed so long.”
“I always planned
to return to Wisconsin. I consider it home.”
“And now you’re
moving up the ladder.”
“Mr. Jung knows I
want to spend a certain amount of my time doing pro bono work. He thinks it
will be good for the firm’s image. Plenty of folks need help around the Madison
area.”
Ann read the
tautness of her guest’s expression. Touchy. Okay, time to change the subject.
“So, you’re back in Clayton. It’s really good to see you. I’m sure Ritchie and
Colleen will be happy to know you’re nearby. And, um, your other friends. I
thought you were engaged?” Ann looked for a wedding ring. Nope. Well, not all
men wore one. “Did you get married? Is she with you?” Ann tried to recall the
name Tiffany Roth linked him with in one of her cards of Christmas past.
“We’ll have time
to catch up. I hoped you were available to celebrate my new job with me. You
were one of few people from my past who always believed in me, supported me.”
Ann’s back went
straight with surprise. “Me?” She shook her head, brow furrowed. “I didn’t do
anything special.”
Mark smiled.
“More than you know. How about we talk over dinner? I’m hungry.”
One of the few
people from his past…in her opinion, Mark’s father and stepmother had
shamefully neglected both Trey and Mark while they spent all their time on
their Internet business. All Ann had done was attend a few of Mark’s games and
make sure he had been welcome in her home.
This grown man
was different from the boy next door. Ann knew Mark Roth, and yet she didn’t.
Exciting? What was the matter with her? This nice young man simply wanted to be
polite and touch bases with people he used to know. And maybe he was lonely if
his wife had stayed in Virginia to wrap things up. The least she could do was
eat a meal with him, for old times’ sake. She knew better than anyone that
eating alone was not much fun. And he was obviously proud of his new job. “Of
course I’ll celebrate with you. There’s a new buffet place we could try.”
Ann did not
protest when Mark ushered her to his newer model metallic blue Mazda. Not that
she embarrassed easily, but the little Ford she had traded for her Beemer
showed its age.
She knew she had
chosen wrong when they entered the crowded lobby of the restaurant. The place
was a madhouse decorated in fake Wild West. Had the storm made everyone crazy
to get out? Mark smiled grimly as he folded his wallet back in his pocket after
paying the cashier. He picked up a cafeteria tray with their soft drinks in
chipped plastic cups and flatware wrapped in a paper napkin.
Mark led the way
into the main dining room and indicated a far corner with his elbow. “I think I
see a free table.” They seated themselves. Ann wished the place would wash away
and take her along. At least she wasn’t trying to make some kind of impression
on him, as if he were a prospective client. Or a candidate for a romance. She
looked at him, hoping he could see how sorry she was for choosing such a
raunchy restaurant. Mark mouthed something she could not quite hear.
“I’m sorry, what
did you say?”
A young waitress
with a nose ring arrived, setting a basket of greasy-looking rolls on the
table. She lingered, eyeing Mark as she might the dessert table while reminding
them to take a clean plate whenever they visited the buffet. Ann wondered how
Mark’s wife would have treated the girl and sat up straight, squinting with
what she hoped was a disapproving frown. Now she felt more like a mother
protecting her naïve son. She lost the frown when he spoke.
“You must enjoy
the food here,” Mark said after the young woman left.
“I’ve never been
here. Ritchie and Colleen said they liked it.” Ann took a deep breath and
risked a sip of the cloudy iced tea she had ordered. She couldn’t see Mark
bringing his wife here. What kind of person was he married to, anyway? “So, um,
Allison,” That was her name! “Isn’t she here with you? Did you leave her to
settle things in Virginia before she comes?”
“I’m sorry, I
can’t hear you.”
Ann was pretty
sure he had heard, but no way was she going to ask again. She already sounded
like a busybody grandma. “Do you…do you—”
Mark cut in.
“Let’s see what they have to eat.”
Ann scavenged
without much success through the commingled aromas of steaming platters and
bins of canned and diced and fried-looking bits. Mark did not appear to have
fared much better, she noted, when they returned to their table. Mark looked
around, as if waiting for something.
Ann turned her
head, too, but did not see anyone she knew. When she faced him again, his eyes
were closed. Ah. Praying. That church youth group he had attended in high
school must have left a lasting impression. She briefly copied him. When he
looked up at her again with a peaceful expression, she picked up her fork. Dare
she ask about Allison again? Ann decided on a safer topic. “How are your
parents?”
“Parents?” He
cocked an ear toward her. “Dad and Tiffany are well as ever, if that’s what you
asked. Golfing every day.”
They gave up
conversation after that. She could not think of anything to say to him on the
way home. Since her ears were still ringing with the noisy chatter and clank of
dishes, she appreciated the quiet. Within an hour after they left Ann’s, Mark
drove back into her driveway. He stopped the car and went around to open the
passenger door for her. Another of his quaint mannerisms few practiced anymore.
Ann hesitated
after he closed the car door. “Thank you. I…I can’t recall the last time…well,
anyway, I apologize for tonight. You must let me make amends.”
Mark accompanied
her across the driveway to the dark front door. “Yes, I’d like that. Soon.”
They arrived on her front step. “But I think I’ll choose the place.”
“Would you like
to come in?”
What made her ask
that? She stopped mid-reach with her key. “I’m sorry, never mind me. You’re
trying to make connections with people you knew before. Not that I remember
everyone, but maybe I can help if you’re trying to track down someone in
particular.” She felt his long stare. Maybe he was just as embarrassed as she
was, caught at trying to flirt. Flirt? Oh, goodness. A little old married lady
chatting up a nice married young man. If there can’t be a flood to swallow her,
how about an earthquake? Can things get any worse?
“Thank you,
that’s kind of you,” Mark said. “I’m slowly finding my way again. But I’d like
to have some coffee, if the invitation’s still open. We didn’t get much of a
chance to talk back there.”
Ann clutched the
key so hard she knew she’d bear the impression of it for hours. It squealed, metal
on metal, as she tried to insert it into the lock with nerveless fingers. She
opened the front door and turned on a light with a shaky, yet defiant, flip.
She could have a harmless little talk with her former neighbor’s son. Do
something more exciting than her usual trip to the Y, the monthly guild
meetings, and working at Ballard, Gorman and Wicht, reminding Gene’s partners,
Howie and Tim, that Gene could walk in the door any day now. As if he could.
“Coffee?”
“Yes. Can I
help?”
She led the way
to the kitchen, and let him fill the carafe at the tap while she ground beans.
Mark flashed a
smirk. “You like fresh ground, too?”
“Ah, don’t tell
me you’re one of those coffee snobs,” Ann teased back as she started to measure
the grounds and promptly lost count. How many scoops was that?
“I have been
contemplating how an espresso machine would fit in my apartment. That was four,
by the way.”
The heat of
embarrassment crawled up the back of her neck. How had he known? She looked at
him out of the corner of her eye.
He leaned against
the countertop, arms folded the same as he had earlier. “Ann.”
Other than when
she had answered her door to him earlier, she had never heard him call her
anything but “Mrs. Ballard.” Did that make him a contemporary? Or her less
formal? She looked up at him after ensuring a steady trickle of dark liquid
entered the glass pot. “Yes?”
“There’s never
been any word, no new reports or information about him? About your…about Mr.
Ballard?”
Ann blinked
heavily and shook her head. “No. There’s never been any more than false leads.
Nothing at all now, for…”
Seven years.
Sunday would mark the seventh anniversary of the disappearance of her husband.
TO READ MORE, you
can purchase Meander Scar by Lisa J.
Lickel at:
To get your free copy of Taste and See from Amazon go to:
