Faith

A Lesson From The Trees

Every fall, when the green trees of summer turn into barren branches, I always think of my sister, Bonnie, who passed away in November, some years ago. The afternoon was gray and bleak as we stood at her graveside, and the trees all around us, clothed in black, seemed to be mourning with us. Her death felt so final. So permanent. Yet I knew if I returned there in the spring, those trees would be alive again, resurrected from the death of winter as the earth tilted back toward the sun’s life-giving warmth and light. The seasons serve as a reminder to me that Christ has conquered death. Like those trees, my sister Bonnie and other loved ones are still alive, awaiting the resurrection of their bodies at Christ’s return.

I sometimes wonder how Adam and Eve felt as the seasons changed from summer to fall to winter for the first time in their lives. God had said they would die if they ate the forbidden fruit, and during the first autumn they were banned from the garden, they experienced death for the first time. But the trees weren’t dead, they were simply waiting for spring. Adam lived to be 930 years old, so he had many opportunities to witness the cycle of seasons, and to watch springtime conquer the death of winter again and again, bringing hope.

There have been several small “deaths” in my life recently, that have brought an end to seasons in my life that I have enjoyed. A favorite vacation spot was destroyed by a hurricane, ending our yearly vacations there. Health issues for us and our friends forced changes to activities we’ve enjoyed. Changes in leadership and worship at our church caused me to leave and seek fellowship and worship someplace else. These are just small examples, but they are representative of the losses we all experience many times over in this life. One season comes to an end, and it seems like death has won. But God isn’t surprised by change. He can create new life from our losses if we turn to Him in trust.

I’m reminded of the story in the Book of Acts, when Christians began to be persecuted after the death of their first martyr, Stephen. The close fellowship they had enjoyed in Jerusalem came to an end, and the young church was scattered. Yet the death of the Jerusalem church brought about the birth of new churches all over the known world. The Apostle Philip traveled to Samaria with the Good News, and “there was great joy in that city” (Acts 8:8). Death brought new life.

All three of the main characters in my newest novel, “All My Secrets,” face change after the death of the family patriarch. His wife Sylvia wrestles with grief and loss, and the changes his death have brought to her life. She is offered this advice: “Change is never easy, is it? . . . But it’s the only certainty in life. And I think you may find that the challenge of doing something new will help you move forward.” None of us enjoy having our lives turned upside down, yet change is natural from the time we leave the womb until life’s end. It’s difficult to embrace something new if we’re still clinging to the old, becoming bitter about what we’ve lost. But as Sylvia will learn, the best path through grief is to accept the challenge of doing something new, allowing God to reshape us, and make us stronger. Death is not the end of the story. We can wait in hope that God will bring renewed life—perhaps in surprising ways—as we turn to His warmth and light.

A Time To Speak

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under Heaven … a time to be silent and a time to speak”

Ecclesiastes 3:1, 7

I’ve often wondered what I would have done if I had lived through the horrific years of Nazi occupation in Europe. Would I have had the courage to speak out against the persecution of Jews? Would I have joined a resistance movement or risked hiding Jews in my home like Corrie Ten Boom’s family did? Their courage led to their imprisonment in a concentration camp where Corrie’s father and her sister Betsy died. Corrie tells their story in her autobiography “The Hiding Place.”

I’ve researched and written two novels that are set in those perilous times of Nazi rule. I’ve read dozens of first-person accounts of heroic Christians—ordinary, everyday people like you and me—who decided to take a stand at the risk of their own lives. Many of those heroes, such as Diet Eman’s fiancé, Hein, did not survive. She tells how they rescued Jews in her book “Things We Couldn’t Say.” I once had the privilege of hearing Diet Eman speak, and she said, “If you had been there, you would have done the same thing.” I wonder.

In my novel “Chasing Shadows,” set in the Netherlands, I used true accounts of Nazi atrocities and the people who resisted them, gathered from survivors’ memoirs. In “Long Way Home” I told the true story of the S.S. St. Louis, which sailed from Germany in May, 1939 with 900 Jewish passengers who were desperate to escape Nazi persecution. They had purchased landing permits for Havana, Cuba, but when they arrived, the Cuban authorities refused to honor the permits. Neither the United States nor Canada would take in the refugees. Few people in the U.S. spoke up for them. Again, I wonder what I would have done. In the end, the ship returned to Europe, putting the Jews in Nazi hands once again. We all know how that ended.

After World War II and the deaths of 6 million Jews, there was a worldwide outcry to allow the Jews to resettle in their homeland, Israel. Those Jews who had managed to survive the holocaust had nowhere else to go. Many of their homes had been looted and stolen, and many of their former neighbors had been complicit in handing them over to the Nazis. So, they made Israel their new home. The day after the United Nations declared Israel a nation, their surrounding neighbors declared war.

Seventy-five years after the Nazis were defeated, anti-Semitism is still alive and growing in the world. I’ve heard people say that this current war in Israel is a political issue, but I believe it is much more than that. How else can the long succession of hatred and persecution of Jews throughout the centuries be explained? I think of Haman. Herod. Hitler. And now Hamas and Hezbollah. Political aims can never justify the terrorizing and slaughter of innocent Jewish men, women, and children. It’s time to stand up and speak out.

I’ve asked my Jewish friends what Christians can do. Here is their response:

“Gather in your churches and pray for Israel and for Jewish communities. Post about it. Voice support for Israel. We need to see Corrie Ten Booms.”

            “This is the time for all Christians to stand up for the Jewish people. Speak to your mayor, speak to any leaders that you know in your community and encourage them to pray and reach out to the Jewish communities.”

“Let us see and hear from Christian communities that they care and are praying for us.”

Psalm 94 pleads:

“Rise up, O judge of the earth . . . How long will the wicked, O Lord, how long will the wicked be jubilant?”

Then it asks God’s people this question:

“Who will rise up for me against the wicked? Who will take a stand for me against evildoers?”

Here I am, Lord. I want to use my platform as a bestselling author to take a stand and speak up.

Have a Memorable Vacation–Maybe?

“Tell us about a memorable summer vacation.” At a luncheon with my publishing company, recently, the sales team and I were asked to do just that. I heard about a lot of interesting vacations from the other team members, and as I awaited my turn, dozens of great memories came to mind. A tour through seven European countries with Ken and our kids. A bicycle trip around Europe’s Lake Konstance with our son, Ben. A road trip early in our marriage from Connecticut to Anchorage, Alaska. Camping on Cape Cod with my parents and two sisters. Long, lazy summer days at my grandparents’ home in Pennsylvania’s Pocono Mountains.

But the memorable vacation I settled on—and it had been the first one that popped into my mind—was a camping trip we took with our kids when they were young to visit some of America’s national parks. We lived in Canada at the time, and Ken had learned that if we bought a U.S. National Parks’ pass, we could visit all the parks for free. It was a bargain too good to pass up. We set off in our Toyota station wagon, pulling a borrowed “pop-up” tent trailer, and headed south and west, starting with Rocky Mountain National Park.

Hundreds of miles and many scenic wonders later, we arrived at the Grand Canyon in time to watch the sunset. Magnificent! Up until that time, we had been able to camp along the way without any trouble. But all the campsites at the Grand Canyon were full. It seems most people are wise enough to make reservations in advance. The Grand Canyon is in the middle of nowhere, so the only other campgrounds were a 2-hour drive back in the direction we had just traveled.

After a spirited discussion about our lack of planning, we decided to park the car and trailer in a parking lot behind one of the lodges for the night. Ominous signs are posted all over the park warning of stiff fines for camping anywhere except in designated sites, so we decided not to “pop-up” the pop-up. Technically, we would not be “camping.” So, we emptied the car and spent the night sleeping in our Toyota. Our two sons slept in the driver’s and front passenger’s seats, tilted back as far as they would go. We folded down the back seat, and Ken and I and our 6-year-old daughter slept in the back of the station wagon. I use the term “slept” very loosely. Throughout the night, I kept waiting for a park ranger to knock on the window and issue us a very expensive “no camping” ticket. My reply would have been, “Do we look like we’re camping?

But by morning, the entire parking lot was filled with vans, trailers, and motor homes. We weren’t the only ones who hadn’t made reservations. Our kids had slept quite well and were eager to begin exploring the park. Ken and I, on the other hand, were quite rumpled and disgruntled. At least we had drawn closer together as a family, I joked.

We visited many great national parks on that vacation and saw a lot of magnificent sights. When we returned home, I asked the kids what they remembered and liked the best, and guess what they said? “The night we slept in the car at the Grand Canyon.”

Isn’t life like that, though? A lot of days and weeks and months pass by when we do the same-old, same-old, and nothing seems particularly memorable. But it’s those challenging times when the unexpected happens that seem to make a much deeper impression. I spent hundreds of blissful summer days at my grandparents’ home in the Pennsylvania woods, but which one is most memorable? The dark night of torrential rain when the dam upriver threatened to break and we were forced to evacuate to higher ground. We sent up a lot of prayers that night!

I find that it’s in challenging times like that long-ago, rainy night that we draw closest to God and cling the hardest to Him. We can forget that we even need Him when the sun shines and everything goes according to plan. Perhaps that’s why He allows us to go through those wilderness times. Not only do we draw closer to Him, but we also learn important lessons about His power, and faithfulness, and love for us. We learn we can trust Him, and that makes the experience deeply memorable.

So, what’s your most memorable summer vacation?

I would wish you all a memorable summer vacation this year, but maybe you would rather have a quiet, uneventful one, instead.