A Rose By Any Other Name

by Joanie Butman

On Father’s Day it is only fitting to share a story about my dad. There’s no shortage of them, that’s for sure. He’s quite a character. In fact, when I was in elementary school and had to have a parent sign my assignments, he was a different character each time: Mickey Mouse, Donald Duck, Goofy, Sleepy, Popeye, you name it.

When I called him recently, I greeted him with the usual, “Hey Dad, it’s me, Joanie.” I added my name to avoid the compulsory, “Me who?” because he claims my three sisters and I all sound alike on the phone. I then asked, “How are you doing?” to which he responded, “Well, I woke up this morning and there wasn’t a tag on my toe, so pretty good!” It’s a familiar line he’s been using for a while now.

I was planning a visit and decided right then to play a joke on him. I made a tag that said “Welcome!” on one side, “Just Kidding” on the reverse, and had my mom tie it to his toe while he slept. I was expecting one of his notoriously loud reactions the next morning and was disappointed when my mom told me he didn’t even notice it, and she’d been forced to point it out. Actually, I shouldn’t have been surprised. That sounds exactly like him. He can be more than a little oblivious, which is how he survived the chaos of seven children.

I can’t say that I have totally avoided the oblivious gene, but I think two of the best things my dad passed down to me are his sense of fun and his godly example of a life lived out in faith. Did he get it perfect? Far from it, but his walk with Christ has never faltered. I suppose he taught me that Christianity is not about perfection but perseverance. Our humanity prevents perfection, but God’s love, grace and mercy are new everyday, and it’s our choice whether or not to avail ourselves of them.

That said, I didn’t always appreciate his sense of humor or his faith, but teenagers are like that. Minus those lost years, which I hated probably more than he did, his influence in my life is something I treasure. Come to think of it, I did then as well, but was too ornery to admit it. Bless his heart though, because he always welcomed me home with open arms, as did my mom – so like God.  I am convinced God included the commandment “Honor thy father and mother” specifically for teenagers. They were probably just as difficult for Moses. I don’t care if you are in the middle of the desert, if there’s a party, they'll find it!

After he retired from the law profession, my father became a Eucharistic minister and at 88 continues to deliver communion to housebound individuals. His unique combination of faith and humor has endeared him to many of his ‘patients.’ Some he’s ministered to for ten years or more. I hope I can say the same someday about this blog – my own little ministry of sorts. It’s funny, people who would be otherwise opposed to hearing about God, find it more palatable when served with a healthy dose of humor. Why do people think He’s so serious? Have they never seen an aardvark, a platypus or some of his other more bizarre creations? It is no coincidence I ended up with the surname Butman. It was simply God’s humorous payback for all those crank phone calls I made to the Lipshits when I was a tween.

My gratitude for my father and the importance of fathers was brought home to me recently when a new acquaintance confided that the biggest hurdle she faces in her spiritual life is being able to trust God because she’s never had a trustworthy male figure in her life. My heart broke for her and the countless numbers of others who have suffered the same fate. It is crippling in so many ways.

The tragedy is not everyone enjoys a healthy paternal presence in their earthly life, but the beauty is EVERYONE can have access to one through Christ. Like my father, God is called by many names, but His trustworthy character remains the same. Abba, Jehovah, Yeshua, I AM, Alpha and the Omega, Elohim, El-Shaddai, Adonai, King of Kings or Lord of Lords. Regardless of what you call Him, He is the same yesterday, today and forever. On that you can depend. I may not have listened to everything my parents taught me, but that truth has been the foundation on which I have built my life.

If you want to read a story about my spiritual Father, there’s no shortage of them either. You can only choose to trust Him by learning about His character. The Bible is overflowing with stories that illustrate his loving nature, sovereignty, provision, protection and grace. Love letters to you from your heavenly Father. I can’t think of a better way to celebrate Father’s day – especially for those who have never experienced one.

This one’s for you, Dad. Happy Father’s Day.

Ringtones

by Joanie Butman

During a Pilates class last week my friend kept jumping up to check her phone. Puzzled because none of us heard anything to alert her of incoming texts, we asked if everything was all right. She apologized profusely explaining that her daughter was home sick. Once she brought it to our attention, we did notice the next very soft beep.

Mother’s instinctively recognize their children’s cry. That ability is innate in humans and animals alike. With the invention of the cell phone, personalized ringtones have brought this ability into the digital age. If I were to assign one to my son, it would definitely be the Chipotle jingle because it is his home away from home; and with few exceptions, his calls revolve around food. My daughter’s would resemble the sound of the Vitamixer whipping up her newest smoothie.

This incident brought to mind a question that was posed in Bible study recently. A member inquired as to how Jesus communicates with us. I’d say His ringtone is individualized for everyone. The challenge is discovering yours. The person asking the question lamented that he was discouraged because all he gets is static. I can totally relate to his frustration because it took me years to establish a good spiritual connection, and depending on what’s going on in life, static is always looming, threatening a disconnection. It takes enormous discipline to create a sacred space amidst the barrage of noise and information most of us are bombarded with daily. 

Everyone responded in different ways, but stillness of mind was an important component that everyone agreed upon. The second essential ingredient was to acquaint yourself with Christ through scripture. You can’t expect to recognize the voice of someone you don’t know. When you get to know His character, His voice gets louder in your life. Jesus said, “My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice.” Sheep may follow blindly but not many humans do. Most of us only choose to follow someone we can trust, someone who has our best interests at heart. Building that trust takes time and effort.

Even so, sometimes trying too hard can be the very thing that causes us to miss Him among the static of our own efforts. Often we just need to be still and let Him find us. If you’re feeling frustrated by static, why not choose to turn down the volume and quiet your soul. Choose to trust that He will show up when you least expect it in unexpected ways. It might be through other people or in a dream, through a devotional or an unexplained prompting to do something out of your comfort zone. It could be a healing, or maybe even a blog. The possibilities are endless. There is a parenting guru who suggests, “If you want your kids to listen to you, don't yell at them. Whisper. Make them lean in.” I believe this is a favorite divine strategy, which is why so many of us don’t always hear Him.

There are some who make it a habit to keep a record of what they hear. Rick Miller describes how when his brother “hears a whisper, he pulls his truck over and starts writing what God puts on his heart. He fills up a spiral notebook a week with some of the most beautiful spirit-filled poems and thoughts. We joke that he needs a bumper sticker, CAUTION - I STOP FOR GOD’S WHISPERS. Gene turned me on to not only listening for God’s whispers, but also staying obedient to what they tell your heart. I have slowly learned that when I hear such a whisper in my heart to act on it and not debate it. And the blessings have flowed.”

Despite the claim that Jesus called them on their cell phones in the Altar Boyz’ song The Calling, I’ve never experienced a cellular message from the divine. Oh, if it was only that simple. If I were to assign Christ a ringtone, Amazing Grace would be the obvious choice as I think it most closely captures the essence of his character. I have a reputation for not answering my cell phone, but that one I could never choose to blatantly ignore as I am sometimes known to do with the Chipotle calls from my son. When I explained only to call in case of emergency, I didn’t think hunger qualified as one; but then again, I’m not a teenage boy.

Spiritual hunger, on the other hand, would definitely qualify as an emergency. If I’m honest, I’d have to admit there are times when I purposely choose static because I don’t necessarily like what I’m hearing. Perhaps it would require a change I’m not willing to make, so I choose to ignore the whisper. I can tell you one thing with certainty, when I hear static or silence at the end of the line, it’s always me who’s disconnected not Him. It’s a moment-to-moment choice to answer His calling or not. Choose wisely.

My Father's House

by Joanie Butman

I have a new pastime – researching available real estate in town and going to open houses. I’m not interested in joining the small army of real estate agents in residence. I’m just looking into simplifying our lives as we approach empty nesting. I may be an anomaly, or maybe like-minded individuals don’t share honestly, but many women in my community dread the new vacancies in their homes. I am not one of them.

It’s not that my husband or I are in a rush to ‘get rid of our offspring,’ but we’re excited for all of us as we embark on a new and exciting stage of our lives. After many years of parenting, we’re beginning to see the fruits of our labors as our children blossom into young adults. No longer having to be the dreaded watchdogs, we see hints of a new and different relationship developing with them.

The first thing people ask when I mention moving is, “How do the kids feel about it?” To be honest, I didn’t really think about asking them. They will still have their own room even though they will probably never live at home again for extended periods of time, we will still be in the same town so they can see their friends, AND they will probably end up with their own bathrooms – a dream come true. It never occurred to me that they would be sentimentally ‘attached’ to this house. In fact, my daughter enjoys looking at potential homes as much as I do. Never underestimate the attraction of your own bathroom.

During a conversation this week with a few women who are at a similar juncture in their lives, one of them told a story of when she was a recent graduate from college and her mother remarried a man with children of his own. Her mother’s new house didn’t have room to accommodate overnight visits – she felt displaced. She shared how hurt she was that she could no longer go home.

Losing one’s home is a devastating experience. We see it played out all the time: foreclosures, hurricanes, tornadoes, floods. Or maybe it’s a displacement through divorce or death, where you are left adrift trying to regain your bearings. Aside from the physical reality, there’s more than one way to be homeless. I know plenty of people in lovely homes and some not-so-lovely homes who are searching for that elusive sense of belonging. Whatever your situation is, I can’t think of a more important time to choose to cling to this verse and probably a slew of others, “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go” (Joshua 1:9).

My parents have moved a number of times and with the exception of leaving Brooklyn when I was a teenager, their location never determined the feeling of coming home. Home was always wherever they were. It’s never been a place to me, but it is being with the people I love. My parents held onto their big house for many years so that they could accommodate everyone during the holidays. Little did they know we’d follow them wherever they went and make room. We used to vie for the closet ‘bedroom’ in their townhouse because it was the darkest and the quietest. Same in their Florida condominium, into which my mother managed to fit a banquet size dining table for all of us and enough chairs for a small symphony.

Even in my parents’ assisted living apartment, I know I am home the minute I walk in the door because I am in the company of the two people who have known me the longest and love me unconditionally. Plus, many of the other residents have become a sort of extended family. I derive great comfort knowing my parents’ door is always open and regardless of space constraints, they will always find room in their home and their hearts for me and everyone else in our family, as well as a myriad of strays that have always found a place at our table.

Not only have I been blessed with a loving family, I’ve also married into one. My husband’s parents (and siblings) offer the same gracious open-door policy, and their beach cottage is the hub of our summer social life, even at 96 years of age. There, too, I find a place of loving acceptance and an abundance of shared laughter and sometimes tears.

Sadly, with both sets of parents aging, life will eventually take its course, and they will pass the baton as we carry on their legacy of love. Hopefully, our children will feel the same about us wherever we land. It will be bittersweet for all of us to leave their childhood home where we’ve shared so many happy times and celebrated so many milestones. It’s more than saying goodbye to a house, it’s saying goodbye to a season of life.

I feel enormously blessed to have been given the gift of a happy home because not everyone has that. And even if they have, the death of a parent(s) leaves a gaping hole never to be filled again. Even so, we can all choose to become a child of God where there is space and love enough for everyone. We all have access to the One who can make anyone feel like an only child, the One who will be with you always, the One yearning to share your laughter and tears, the One who is always waiting to welcome us home with a loving embrace where we can rest in the comfort and safety of His everlasting peace.

Our heavenly home is available to everyone right here.The challenge is finding this home where we are. Christ is waiting to offer a place where you can feel safe, happy and at peace. We just need to choose to create a sacred space for Him to fill. That ‘space’ isn’t necessarily a physical setting but a stillness of being. It might be by the ocean or the kitchen sink, in your most comfortable chair or on your knees in the garden, or maybe even in a church. He isn’t confined to a location as my devotional pointed out last week, “Anywhere you are can become a dwelling place where you can meet the Lord and know His peace.”

If you’re having trouble finding God amongst busyness, consider Thoreau’s comment, "It is not enough to be busy. So are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about?" Choosing to be still is the first step in feeling God’s presence. Not that being busy and being with God are mutually exclusive. I feel closest to God when I am busy creating, whether it be designing, beading, writing, or gardening. It is at those times that I can feel His creative energy flowing freely through me. Each of us has his or her own God-given talents that, when exercised, produce a stillness and peace, a feeling of being one with God, a feeling of being exactly where you are meant to be, a feeling of being home. Dorothy was so right, “There’s no place like home.”

Letting Go

by Joanie Butman

My son split open his brow last week in a lacrosse game, requiring a trip to the plastic surgeon and 11 stitches. He was told not to return to contact sports for 21 days. However, he is now 18 and considered an ‘adult.’ As such, he can decide to play at his own discretion – to a certain extent. Bob and I know better and, despite what the law deems, DO NOT consider 18 an automatic stamp of adulthood – far from it, especially for boys. We made the choice for him and made him sit out the next game. The coach wanted him to play and shared the story of a friend of his who superglued his wound together to return to a game. Message: Man up!

That story made me think of an incident with my elderly father-in-law. A few years ago he fell off the kitchen chair he was using for a ladder to trim a tree in the yard. It seems that 92-year-old men have the same maturity and decision-making ability as 18-yr-old ‘men.’ Anyway, he landed on the concrete driveway scraping the side of his face badly. During the healing process his bottom eyelid was pulled downward by the scab and remained that way. He has an aversion to doctors so he chose to train his eyelid to return to its original position by lifting it with duct tape. After a number of weeks of wearing his improvised sling, he uncharacteristically admitted defeat and went to the doctor to have it properly repaired with a few stitches. Moral of the story: Duct tape may have 101 uses, but healing is NOT one of them.

Both stories illustrate our impatience with the healing process. Over the course of my life I’ve learned that healing:

• is a process
• can’t be rushed
• needs to be respected

Too often, whether it is physical or emotional wounds, we are tempted to man up and get back in the game before we’re ready. Conversely, there are probably plenty of people who get stuck in the healing process and can’t find their way back onto the playing field.

Regardless of which camp you fall into, and most of us have probably spent time in both, there is only one approach to the healing process – complete surrender. In order to get over it, you have to first lean into it. Whether it’s physical or emotional, returning to what the doctors refer to as ‘normal’ activities too soon will reopen the wound, often compounding the original injury. And frequently it involves accepting and adjusting to a new ‘normal,’ knowing your life will never again be the same.

There is good reason we call those in the healing process patients – possibly the world’s greatest misnomer. In our nanosecond society, we are not a patient lot. We don’t have time. We prefer to choose to superglue our hurts and plow forward self-medicating in a myriad of ways. I can tell you from experience, it doesn’t work. As much as we’d like to slap on a duct tape Band-Aid, there are times when we need to choose to seek medical or spiritual assistance. Whether your great physician is wearing a white coat or the proverbial white robe, at some point we need to choose to put ourselves in their hands and let them do what they do best.

At the prompting of a friend, I chose to attend a healing service this week. It was definitely out of my comfort zone and a little ‘out there.’ People have been trying to get me to healing services since my cancer diagnosis six years ago. I’ve never felt the need for it thinking if God wants to heal me, He’ll do it in His own time in His own way. And I still believe that, but it wasn’t the cancer that prompted my recent acquiescence.

When I approached a member of the prayer team, he asked me what brought me there. I told him and he asked an interesting question. He inquired, “Do you believe God wants to heal you?” At any point in time, what I am seeking healing for changes how I choose to answer. I believe God wants us all to live an abundant life and wants to heal us of anything that is preventing that possibility. My health situation doesn’t satisfy that criteria – quite the opposite.It is only through cancer that I’ve learned to live an abundant life, so I’d have to say that healing might not be His plan in regard to my physical illness. I don’t really know. It's not my choice, but I am totally comfortable leaving that decision to Him. God doesn’t heal everyone in the worldly sense. Why He chooses to heal some and not others is none of my business, but I do know it’s not because they haven’t attended a healing service or for lack of faith. Keep in mind our expectations of ‘healing’ can differ dramatically from God’s. My cancer has been its own kind of healing journey on more important fronts than any physical need.

Nevertheless, because I firmly believe the issue at hand is precluding me from enjoying the abundant life, I answered with a resounding “Yes,” which brings up the next obvious question. “So why hasn’t He?” Because I haven’t chosen to surrender yet. Healing is a process in which we are expected to participate, even if it’s simply getting out of our own way—something I find particularly difficult to accomplish.

It’s funny, for me dealing with a physical issue is so much easier. It’s black and white. I don’t really have a choice. I know what I have to do and gladly do my part by following the doctors’ instructions. I rely on their expertise for the most part, but have also learned to be my own advocate by reviewing and questioning every test result.

On the other hand, I find spiritual healing much trickier. There aren’t any written scripts being dispensed. But then again, isn’t the Bible full of them? And why do I find it so much more difficult following God’s instructions? Am I as eager to review and question every test result? Not really, because I don’t always like what I see and the necessary changes those results would indicate need implementing.

The one thing both types of healing have in common is that there are no shortcuts. Healing takes time and work whether it is a physical or spiritual rehabilitation. You need to choose to let the scar form and/or retone the muscles (faith is a muscle) before getting back on the playing field or you will find yourselves flat on your back, relegated once again to the sidelines.

So what’s my point? Choose to be patient with your wounds and your recovery because God makes “everything beautiful in His time.” You’ll know His time has come when you can embrace the following precepts.

In my deepest wound I see your glory, and it dazzles me

 St. Augustine

 

Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue. Realize the strength, move on.

Henry Rollins

Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue, but only after it’s been given the proper amount of time and care to heal fully. Even Jesus has scars, and the power to heal whatever ails us resides in them if we choose to surrender our will to His. Choose wisely. 

Sharing Day

by Joanie Butman

Thursday was the closing day of Bible study for the year. My husband keeps asking when I’m going to graduate, and I keep reminding him, “It’s a BIG book!” Our last session is called Sharing Day. 100+ women enjoy a delicious potluck meal, which seems to be an integral element of fellowship. Never underestimate the power of sharing a meal. There is more than one way to be fed.

Anyway, along with breakfast, we are given an opportunity to stand and speak (if we so desire) about how God has worked in our lives during the past year and what we learned through the study. It’s a moving time as women share their stories through laughter, tears and with overwhelming gratitude. The power of this Bible study is all about the fellowship. Members add diverse perspectives, new insights and challenge each other to think more deeply; but above all else, they reveal attributes of God by describing His personal involvement in the details of their lives. Anyone can read the Bible, but witnessing the Word applied to people’s lives makes it come alive in a unique and intimate way. This phenomenon illustrates one of Benjamin Franklin’s familiar truisms, "Tell me and I forget. Teach me and I remember. Involve me and I learn."

There are those who consider the Bible antiquated and irrelevant. I disagree. The beauty of it is that mankind hasn’t changed much. Technology may have evolved, but we haven’t. That’s what makes the Bible so applicable. It is filled with stories of ordinary people – some used in extraordinary ways, but more in small, quiet, sideline ways. These aren’t perfect people, just the opposite, which is why their stories resonate so strongly with us. It’s easy to recognize our shared humanity in them. We can relate to their struggles and failures, and their victories give us hope. They are vivid examples of the transforming power of God’s love.

I have a friend who jokingly calls me Joanie Moses. I don’t have the heart to tell her my middle initial stands for Marie. Her nickname makes me uncomfortable because I don’t feel like a messenger from God or capable of leading anyone anywhere. I am spiritually and directionally challenged. However, through the study of the book of Acts, I’ve learned to embrace her moniker because I have more in common with Moses than I thought, and so do you. Aren’t we all messengers from God as those in Acts? Isn’t that a calling we all receive? God simply wants us to boldly share our stories about how He is working in our lives. Who knows? You might be the vehicle through which He chooses to reveal Himself to someone. It doesn’t matter if you are talking to 5,000 Israelites or just one person. In fact, it doesn’t matter if you’re talking at all. It’s our actions that speak volumes. We can’t all be spiritual giants, but each of us has the ability to quietly come alongside someone, take them by the hand and lead them out of despair and offer hope. As Brené  Brown claims, “The two most powerful words when we’re in struggle? Me too.”

Okay, I know what you’re thinking, “First she compares her friend to Jesus, herself to Eve, her husband to God and now she’s like Moses? She’s delusional!” Maybe, but I think we can all recognize aspects of ourselves and others in many of the protagonists in the Bible. For example, if I had to pick a biblical name for my friend, it would be Barnabas because she is an excellent encourager. And what woman alive can’t relate to Martha’s moaning about having too much to do and having to do all the work herself? Is there a soul out there that hasn’t experienced being a “doubting Thomas” at some point? The list is endless, but it’s their authenticity that makes these stories and characters timeless. My aspiration isn’t to be a great leader like Moses. No, my spiritual goal is to be like John – to be able to fully embrace the truth of John’s self-proclaimed description as “the one who Jesus loved.” We all are, but too often our own feelings of unworthiness prevent us from owning that reality.

Moses hid for forty years trying to avoid his destiny; he tried to convince God He picked the wrong guy, he was a stutterer and couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag. It took him 40 years to arrive at the Promised Land – a journey that should have taken a couple of weeks. He did not have an overwhelming resume nor did most of the individuals in the Bible. So I suppose I can live with the nickname. It’s a lot better than my brother’s favorite, “Gastank.”

So when am I going to graduate from Bible study? Probably never, because these familiar personalities have become my life-long companions. Their stories feed me in a manner that is more satisfying and longer lasting than any meal I can recall. Sharing Day may be our season finale, but you don’t have to participate in a Bible study to celebrate sharing day. Choosing to open up and share our stories connects us in ways that can’t be achieved any other way. They open the door to authentic relationships. Plus, our stories are part of His story and as such they inspire, comfort, strengthen and encourage others; but most importantly, they provide hope.

Why not choose to let every day be sharing day?

Our closing song:

Sister, let me be your servant.

Let me be as Christ to you.

Pray that I might have the grace

to let you be my servant, too.

We are pilgrims on a journey.

We are sisters on the road.

We are here to help each other

walk the mile and bear the load.

I will hold the Christ-light for you.

In the night time of your fear.

I will hold my hand out to you,

speak the peace you long to hear.

I will weep when you are weeping.

When you laugh, I'll laugh with you.

I will share your joy and sorrow

till we've seen this journey through.

When we sing to God in heaven,

we shall find such harmony

Born of all we've known together

of Christ's love and agony.