With Supplication

 Phillipians 4:6

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known unto God.

Lucy laid in bed, sick and miserable. She was starving, but there was no food around until the designated lunch time. She was thirsty, but felt too weak to get up and ask for water. 

Being too weak to do anything, she decided the only thing she could do was pray.

She carefully propped herself up in the bed, leaning against the corner of the bedroom. Lucy started by acknowledging before God her own weakness. She realized how little she knew about people that she didn't know what to pray for them. She could think of one prayer request. 

So, she prayed for one person. Because it was only one request, she ended up praying the same thing over and over again with praises and statements of Lucy's dependence on the Lord Jesus Christ between. This lasted about an hour before she heard the call for lunch. Suddenly, she had the strength to get up.

It was latter, after Lucy was no longer sick, that she remembered Phillipians 4:6. She heard about another request, and decided to try praying in the same way. 

"I must have made a big deal about... because I could really tell you guys were praying for me."

Before, I had always skipped over the word "supplication" in this verse because I, quite frankly, didn't know what it meant.

"Supplication: the act of asking or begging for something earnestly or humbly." (google definition)

I have recently been watching The Waltons with my mom. It takes place during the Great Depression where people would barter by exchanging work for things instead of money. Having a discussion with my mom, she stated, "There is no pride in begging."

Yet, this is how we are supposed to come before God in prayer - by begging. We are to come before Him knowing that we have nothing - not even work - that we can offer God. We are beggars. 

And we are to ask him in humility because there is no pride in begging.

                                                    Is there anything I can pray for you?

Anti-Abortion Fictional Short Story

Christina King woke up late to the sound of her neighbor mowing his lawn. She glanced over at the clock which read, 10:57 am. It was Saturday, and dread filled her soul. She has a doctor’s appointment at noon, but not one she was looking forward to. Christina suddenly had the urge to hurl.

            She scrambled to get out of bed so that she wouldn’t have to clean her bed sheets and just barely make it to the toilet. As she emptied her stomach, she held her own hair back. Christina collapsed on the floor when she was done, and she breathed in between sobs. She mustered as much courage as she could to get herself up.

            Demetri had left for work early in the morning for his shift at McDonalds. As Christina grabbed a box of Toasted Holes and milk, she remembered the conversation she and Demetri had the other night.

            “We can’t have a baby, Chrissy!” he yelled, “We can’t afford it!”

            “What am I supposed to do, then? Huh!?” she replied.

            After several minutes of arguing, it was decided that it would be most efficient to abort the child – a decision Christina didn’t approve of.

            Christina looked down at her bowl of cereal and found it was too bitter. She grabbed for some sugar and dumped some in. She looked at the clock. She had forty minutes to get to the clinic and it took five minutes to get there. Christina didn’t know what to do for the amount of extra time.

            So, she just sat there. Staring at her cereal.

            “I’m sorry,” she whispered to her unborn child as the clock approached 11:55am. “I love you. I don’t want to do this, but I must.” Christina got up, dumped the remainder of her cereal, and walked out the door.

            Her car was in the parking lot. She had two minutes before her appointment, but she couldn’t get herself to go inside. Christina quickly prayed, “If You don’t want me to do this, then stop me.” She got out of the car.

            Or, at least she tried to. As she opened the door, it slammed into another woman.

            “I’m so sorry!” Christina exclaimed.

            “No, no, no,” the woman said, doubled over in pain, “You’re alright.” When the woman was able to straighten up, she introduced herself. “My name’s Rose, you?”

            “Christina.” She shook Rose’s hand. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

            “I’m fine. I’m fine,” she replied.

            “Are you here for an appointment?” Christina asked, gesturing to the Planned Parenthood clinic.

            “Oh, no,” Rose replied. “I’m here with a Pro-Life group called Created Equal. I actually came over here to talk with you.”

            “Oh,” Christina exclaimed in surprise. “Well,” she looked at her phone. It was two minutes past noon. “I’ve already missed my appointment. So, I guess you succeeded.”

            “Are you planning to reschedule?”

            “Well,” Christina hesitated. She didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t want Rose to eat up more of her time. “Yes, I do plan on rescheduling.”

            “Why are you getting an abortion?” she asked.

            Christina shook her head in disbelief. “Because my boyfriend and I can’t afford to support a child.”

            “Have you considered putting the child up for adoption?”

            Christina shook her head again. “It’s too complicated.”

            “We can help with that,” Rose stated. “We have resources. We can get you set up.”

“Okay.”

The Importance of Prayer

It was my sophomore year of high school when I took a Health and Fitness class through my online school. It taught what the school deemed important for students to know about health issues that impacted society. I recall one chapter, specifically, about mental health. It went over depression, anxiety, cutters, ADD, dyslexia, eating disorders, and schizophrenia and bipolar. I became intrigued with schizophrenia. I dismissed bipolar as someone whose emotions were out of control, and surely that could never be me since I was closer to being a sociopath than an emotion roller-coaster.

                However, I became intrigued with what it was like to hallucinate. And what exactly was a delusion? In a car ride with my mother, I started talking about what I was learning in Health and Fitness class. “You know how Jill* was hospitalized recently?” my mother said. I nodded. “Her family isn’t telling many people, but she was diagnosed as schizophrenic.”

*modified name to protect identity

                We spoke more as I considered this information. Jill and I weren’t biologically related, and biologically, I had never heard of a family member having a case of schizophrenia or bipolar. I began to think how I would never understand this group of people. Never having had a mental disorder myself, I realized there would be a barrier of understanding between myself and someone with a mental disorder, specifically schizophrenia or bipolar. I vaguely understood depression from someone outside looking in. I vaguely understood eating disorders as someone outside looking in. However, as someone outside looking in, I understood just enough to know I didn’t understand schizophrenia’s complexity.

                And stupid me prayed, God, you know I don’t understand this. I can no longer relate to Jill. I want to understand this. Teach me.

***

                Waking up, I remembered where I was, who I was, and why I was there. That was it. I looked up at the clock on the wall. It read 7:32. Somehow, I knew it was evening despite there being no windows. A nurse walked in. “What day is it?” I asked.

                “Wednesday,” he replied. Wednesday… okay… I suddenly realized that I didn’t know which day of the week I had been admitted. Had it been one day? Two days? A week?

                “How long have a been here?” I asked. For some reason, I was sitting on the ground.

                “Two weeks.”

                My heart felt heavy. Two weeks of my life were wasted and hazy in my memory. What little I recalled seemed like a nightmare. Surely, that hadn’t happened. Surely, I didn’t do that.

                Then, I fell back away.

                My memory regained itself only a few minutes later. Or was it a few days later? Or had this happened before the last? Somehow, I was lying in the ground, sobbing for a reason unknown. I did what I had trained my mind to do since I was a very young girl. As a young girl, I would have vivid nightmares. I eventually trained my mind to pray in the middle of the nightmare, and God would either change the nightmare to a peaceful dream or wake me up.

                I prayed in the middle of my nightmare, “God, what is this? Help me! Help me!”

                It’s difficult to explain what happened next. You know how painful an excellent massage can be? Imagine that type of painful ache, but in your soul. And from that ache in my soul, exhaustion flooded my body. Every one of my tense muscle relaxed.

                I opened my eyes and got up. Passing the clock on the way to bed, I saw that it read 7:45.

                As I slowly started to become myself once again, I started to get bored. I would leave my room for only three things; meals, singing time that the Chaplin would hold, and to get shower supplies. I spent most of my time playing the flute (“You’re really good. Everyone can hear it everywhere… like… everywhere.”) and reading. I tried to memorize different scripture passages. One of the few things I recalled from my two weeks of missing memory was that the staff could not find a single Bible in the entire ward. My parents brought my Bible from home.

                For one week, I had nothing that I had to do, or really could do, but read scripture and play a joyful noise onto the Lord.

                Once I went home, I gained a mentality; I don’t need the meds to keep me sane. God will keep me sane. I trust in God. I relapsed. And this time, I wasn’t going to let anyone take my delusion away.

                “I’m praying for you.” Very simple words, but they were the needle needed to pop my delusion. The person who said these words to me had no idea that this simple phrase could insert the right amount of doubt into my mind.

                Well, maybe I’m not God. Maybe there is something wrong with me.

                I came back to myself. It has been two and a half years, and I haven’t relapse since. Why? There are a few reasons, I believe.

                One reason is that I am taking the medication that I’m supposed to. Yet, I do not believe that it is the medication that’s keeping me sane. I was right to think that God would keep me sane, but wrong to stop taking the meds. This hast to do with the fifth commandment; honor your father and mother (Deuteronomy 5:16). It was the desire of my parents that I take the meds. Therefore, why would God bless me with sanity when I’m not taking them?

                However, I will not depend upon the medication to keep me sane, but always trust in God. For example, with the passing of my past psychiatrist, there was a period where I had to suddenly lower my dosage amount because there was only so much still prescribed to me at that time. But I trusted in God, and I was fine.

                I haven’t relapsed because of the prayers of the Church. Recall that I came to myself around 7:30 on a Wednesday night. There’s nothing magical about 7:30 on Wednesday night. However, that it the time that my church has set up to gather together to pray for the needs of the Church. I heard latter about how much my church was praying for me. The youth group was praying for me. The main congregation was praying for me. I have several friends and random church members I vaguely know come up and say that they’re still praying for me!

                I had the pleasure this past summer to join the prayer time Wednesday nights. During the schoolyear, I would work Wednesday nights, but this past summer I had a class starting at 2pm. It wouldn’t make sense for me to work Wednesday nights.

                God listens when you pray by yourself, but there’s something about praying with other believers that God really answers. Perhaps, it has something to do with the passage, “Again, I tell you truly that if two of you on the earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by My Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in My name, there I am with them.” (Matthew 18:19-20).

                I had a very small experience with bipolar disorder, and I’m not sure I’m finished with it. Although, through it, God has revealed to me much of Himself, and has raised many questions I otherwise wouldn’t have thought. Thank God, I recall very little of the worst parts of it. My mother during that time recorded in a notebook everything I did to give to doctors, if they needed it. At first, I wanted to read it. I wanted to know what all I did. Now, I have no desire to know. It’s behind me, and only serves to grow me, and perhaps through my testimony, others closer to God.

The Just Judge

God is a poet, an artist, and a lover.

Creator and Friend.

Rest in time of distress.

 Hope and Judge.

The Judge calls for order.

You upon the stand.

“How do you plead?”

Guilty.

You are undoubtedly that which are as followed –

Murder.

Liar.

Cheat.

Slanderer.

Gossiper.

Rapist.

And above all:

Hater.

For it is the heart of a man that is on trial.

If convicted, you are delivered Death.

If convicted, you reap Wrath –

The Just Wrath of a Just Judge.

Silence is enveloped.

A sentence is packaged.

Justice must be served.

Repentance.

“I’m sorry!” is the cry.

But the deeds have been committed.

What else can be done?

Where is Hope?

The Just Judge stands.

The One and Only Judge who has done no wrong.

Known no evil.

Felt no pain.

“I will take the penalty of this man.”

Freedom.

Life.

Wisdom.

The Just Wrath has been taken.

But can Death keep grasp of the Just Judge?

One who has never done evil?

No.

Thus,

Justice – appeased.

Mercy – given.

Grace – received.

How great and glorious is the righteous Judge who pays the penalty of the repenting!

A Prayer for This Nation

Dear One and Only Heavenly Father,

I come, submitting myself to you in prayer for this divided nation, the authority that you have sovereignly given it, and the effects this nation has and will have on your world. As I do so, may I keep my focus solely on you, Oh God. May I truthfully plea for your sovereign will be done as you have revealed to us through your Word.

I pray the divided people of this nation. Oh, how divided the United States are! Oh, how we need you desperately. This country has turned its back to you. May we the people turn back to you, Oh God! We harbor hatred for each other and justify it, but you are the only good judge. May this nation be a nation that repents and runs to you rather than from you. And, Oh! How you can forgive us so! But, not so if we the people do not repent and turn from our ways.

I pray for the rioters and those that harbor hatred towards an imperfect authority. May they be physically safe as they insist their own way. Yet, far more important than that, may we see your perfection and realize how foolish and selfish we are. Oh, how our arguments and excuses falter before a just and true God! May we the people guide the imperfect authority that you have perfectly set it place. For who can know the Father’s will? With love and care, may we do our part to help authority walk in your way rather than rebel against. For, isn’t rebellion what we did to you? Yet, how easy it should be to serve you since you are perfect! How imperfect we are to think we are better than another imperfect man. Grant humility and peace in you to us as a nation.

I pray for the police department and those tasked with keeping the peace. May you keep them safe and grant them wisdom to do what is right and pleasing in your eyes. May justice be dealt with Godly wisdom and loving mercy.

I pray for the new authority of this country. Guide them in your way, Oh just and true King. Should such authority figures use the authority you have granted them for their own selfish means, may we remember that though man means it for evil, you mean it for good! How awesome are your works and great are your deeds!

I pray for all other nations and the effect that our nation has on theirs. Father God, I ask that rather than be a fear, or disheartening upon the world, that we would demonstrate the fragrance of your love and grace through how we deal with international situations and how we do business. May you implore business men to be merciful and gracious in their dealings rather than selfish and fearful of financial loss or risk. May we put our trust in you who clothes the lilies and feed the birds. May we be a country that does not withhold mercy and grace towards nations because we fear personal loss. May we extent such mercy and grace to other nations because we are secure through our trust and faith in you, Oh Lord! Yet, I know that before this may happen, we must be a nation that repents and runs to your forgiveness.

Lastly, I pray for your people, the saints, in this dark nation. And, how dark this nation is! How desperately we must be lights. May we cling to you in our darkest hour tightly so that we may not fall into the ways of this sinful world. Do not let us go! Remember your people in this country. May we not fall to the temptation of political hatred, for hatred is still hatred no matter what side we’re on. May we not forsake the command of the church to preach your gospel into all the world. And, this nation is certainly part of that world. May we be the ones to show this nation how to accomplish peace. How to repent. May we be patient when we attempt to love others, for we are naturally, sinfully impatient creatures. May we not be afraid. Make us bold when we preach your Word. Make us preach your Word! May your mercy and grace overwhelm us – your forgiveness humiliate us. May we desire to praise your name forever. Oh, how we yearn for this time to be over, yet everything is accomplished in your perfect timing. We yearn for peace and rest. You give it! Just as we have repented and you granted your forgiveness, may we go out and tell others that you offer such eternal forgiveness for those who repent and trust their lives to you!

This sinful world that you love tires us. Give us strength to love as you do.

And above all, I plea,

Come, Lord Jesus!

                                                    In the Name of Jesus Christ, Our Risen Savior,

                                                                                      Amen.

From: The Gift Giver

Chase Grayson pushed open the glass doors of Willows Brook Christian Home. He entered the current date, 12-24-16, into the passcode, and entered the building. Upon entering, he noticed the elaborate red, green, and silvery blue decorations. Holly hung from the front desk and festive-smelling candles were lit all over.

            As beautiful as it all was, none compared to Nurse Emily Davidson. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, still curly after the long shift she had just finished. “Chase,” Nurse Emily exclaimed when she looked up from the notes on her clipboard. He gleamed at Nurse Emily’s eager, wolf-like eyes and tried to remember why he was there.

            “Chase?” She asked.

            “Yeah?” He replied.

            “You awake? Did you hear what I said?” Nurse Emily asked as she waved her hand in front of his face.

            Trying to play it cool, he replied, “Duhhh, ‘course I did. Mrs. McArthur, right?”

            “Right,” Nurse Emily replied. She handed him the clipboard in her hands. “All of my other patients are asleep right now. Mrs. McArthur is the only one that might prove difficult.” She hesitated for a second. “Are you sure you’re okay with taking my shift?” she asked, “It is Christmas Eve night, after all. Surely you have plans tomorrow.”

            “Nah, girl, it’s cool,” Chase replied. That wasn’t quite true. His parents didn’t know he was working that night and they were expecting him to spend Christmas with them. A male nurse that Chase didn’t recognize butted his way in between them, rushing to help one of his patients down the hall.

            “Okay,” Nurse Emily replied, once they were alone again. “By the way,” she turned to the counter, “There’s a gift here for Mrs. McArthur. Well, it doesn’t say it’s for her, but it says it’s from the gift giver, and she’s the only one here who gets gifts addressed like that. I’m not sure who brought it in. I was about to give it to her when you walked in.”

            “Don’t worry, I can do that,” Chase replied.

            Nurse Emily smirked. “Just to warn you, when you give it to her, she’s going to want to tell you the story behind it.”

“I’m cool with that,” Chase replied.

“Okay, thanks,” she said quickly, and then paused. “And thanks again for finishing my shift. It means a lot to me, and I owe you one.” Nurse Emily started to walk away when she shouted back, “Hope you have a good shift! Merry Christmas!”

            Chase watched as Nurse Emily left through the glass doors, took out her car keys, and trudged through the snow to her car. He then turned his attention to the clipboard that contained Mrs. Tracy McArthur’s medical information. Apparently, she had attempted to sleep earlier, but remained restless. Since then, she had asked to be moved to her wheelchair and has been sitting in it, staring out the window for quite a while.

            Chase glanced at the small gift box labeled “To: You From: The Gift Giver.” He snatched it up and headed for her room. As he walked down the hallway he greeted several of his fellow nurses, most of whom he didn’t recognize considering that he was working an odd shift.

            Chase reached the door number, 174, and knocked lightly before entering. “Mrs. McArthur?” He asked.

            “Charlie?” She replied. Mrs. McArthur’s room was dim, as most of the rooms were. The room was slightly decorated for Christmas, but only a few things that could easily be taken down. Mrs. McArthur sat in her wheelchair facing the window. “Could you turn me around?” Mrs. McArthur asked.

            “Absolutely,” Chase replied. He quickly grabbed the handles to the wheelchair and maneuvered it so that Mrs. McArthur faced away from the window.

            “I was just watching the snow pile up outside,” She explained. “It’s quite beautiful.”

            “Yes, it is, Mrs. McArthur,” Chase replied. “I have something for you.”

            “Oh?”

            “A present,” Chase handed the box to her. “Says it’s from the Gift Giver.”

            A smile big enough to encapsulate all of Christmas spirit shone of Mrs. McArthur’s face. “My husband,” she exclaimed.

            Taken aback, Chase sadly reminded her, “Mrs. McArthur, your husband isn’t here anymore. He’s dead.”

            Mrs. McArthur nodded. “I’m aware of that. I may have a lot of problems, but my memory ain’t one of them. Surely I’ve told you the story of the Gift Giver before.”

            “No, Ma’am, you haven’t,” Chase replied.

            “No?”

            “No,” Chase continued, “This is the first time I’ve worked with you. I usually work in a neighboring nursing home, but I’m covering for a friend.”

            Mrs. McArthur grinned. “You must really like this girl to take her shift on Christmas Eve night.”

“How do you know I’m covering for a girl?” he asked.

“I can tell by the way you’re blushing, my dear,” Mrs. McArthur commented before changing the subject. “Well, how about I tell you the story about the Gift Giver. I’m sure it would help me through the night. Do you mind?”

            “Not at all,” Chase replied. “All my other patients are fast asleep.” He turned and took a seat on the bed and prepared to listen to an old lady’s story.

            “Well,” Mrs. McArthur began, “The Gift Giver was a tradition that my husband came up with when we wanted something fun for our kids on Christmas, but we didn’t want them to believe in Santa Claus. One night, our five-year-old Gracie asked me about the Gift Giver. I remember that night was Christmas Eve in 1978. Jeffrey, my husband, was tending the fireplace while I was sitting on the couch reading a Christmas novel.” Mrs. McArthur’s eyes drifted into the past as she told the story.

             The staircase creaked as the little brunette girl crept down the stairs. She paused when she saw her parents in the living room and attempted to scuttle back upstairs. The girl’s mother looked up from her reading. “Hold on there, little missy,” the shapely lady called out to her daughter. The distinguished gentlemen turned and smiled up at his angelic daughter. “What do you think you’re doing up this late at night?” the girl’s mother asked.

            Having been caught, the little child, Gracie, trudged down the shag carpet stairs. “I thought I would see what the Gift Giver brought.”

            Tracy shared a look with her husband before beckoning little Gracie over. “Come sit on my lap,” Tracy invited her.

            Gracie climbed up onto her mother’s lap. “Now remind me,” Tracy started, “Did I ever tell you why we have the Gift Giver while the rest of the world believes in Santa Claus?”

            Gracie shook her head and leaned into her mother. “I know Santa ain’t real.”

            “That’s right,” Tracy said. “How could one person make his way around the world all in one night? Why would he do it? But the Gift Giver, who says there’s only one? Any family could have a Gift Giver. It’s just what someone calls themselves when they want to give anonymously. Do you know what anonymous is?”

            Gracie shook her head. Tracy was about to reply when another voice piped up. “Anonymous means that they don’t want you to know who it’s from.” Ten-year-old Charlie, with his tousled, dirty-blond hair and ugly, stripped green pajamas made his way down the stairs to join them.

            The rest of his family turned to him as Charlie continued to tell about the Gift Giver. “The Gift Giver remains anonymous so that the receiver thanks God for the gift instead of the giver.” Charlie sat down on the couch next to his mother.

            Tracy picked up where her son had left off. “The very first Gift Giver was God. On Christmas, we celebrate Jesus who was that gift. Jesus, in turn, was a Gift Giver, too. The gift He gave to us was his life. And just like we don’t know who our Gift Giver is, the Jews didn’t know that Jesus was theirs. By giving anonymously, glory is given to God, and not the human Gift Giver. So, anyone could be called The Gift Giver, and our Gift Giver could be anyone.”

            “So, the Gift Giver for our family could be me,” Charlie told his little sister.

            “Or me,” Tracy piped in.

            “Or me,” Jeffrey said, still crouched next to the fireplace.

            Charlie continued, “It could be one of our neighbors, or church members, or teachers, or friends. It could be you.”

            Gracie giggled. “But I know it’s not me.”

            Charlie smiled back at her. “Well, then, that eliminates one person.”

            Gracie giggled again. And turned to look at the tree next to daddy. It was decorated with plain white lights, red ribbon, and all the ornaments that hung were made by Charlie and Gracie throughout the years. Underneath the tree, a few presents lay ready to be opened. On the coffee table, a glass of milk and three homemade chocolate chip cookies were set for the Gift Giver to enjoy when delivering the anonymous presents.

            “I think our children ought to be in bed,” Jeffrey suggested, “don’t you think, Honey?”

            Tracy nodded. “Okay, you heard the man; off to bed,” she picked Gracie up off her lap and placed her on the floor. Gracie grabbed her mother’s hand and the three of them walked upstairs.

            Charlie said goodnight to his mother for the second time that night, and Tracy replied goodnight before she closed his bedroom door. Still grasping her mother’s hand, Gracie was led back into her bedroom. She climbed up into bed, and Tracy tucked her little girl in. “Goodnight, Gracie,” Tracy whispered.

            “Goodnight, Mommy,” Gracie muttered before turning over in bed. Tracy silently walked out of the room and turned the light off before closing the door.

With a smile on her face, she rushed back downstairs where she found Jeffrey placing the last of the Gift Giver’s presents under the tree. “I think the Gift Giver is the best tradition you have ever come up with, my darling,” Tracy told her husband.

            Jeffrey looked at his wife and beamed from ear to ear before giving her a holiday kiss. “You,” Jeffrey stated, “are an excellent story teller.”

            “Just one of my many talents,” Tracy replied. Tracy took in a breath and looked down at the floor before asking, “How’s your head?” she asked.

            Jeffrey shook his head. “Still having headaches. They’re not horrible; just annoying.” Looking at his wife’s worried face, he smiled and said, “Don’t worry. I’m sure it’s nothing serious.”

            “It better not be.”

***

            Mrs. McArthur shook her head. “Jeffrey always was a stubborn man. Psychiatrists are like that.  Throughout the new year, he continued to have headaches, and they got worse. He often wouldn’t tell me, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that he was growing fatigued and was slowly losing his balance. It wasn’t until December 2^nd of 1979 that he finally let me take him to the hospital after he had thrown up and couldn’t talk properly for about a minute.”

            Chase, still sitting on the bed, listened intently. Miraculously, not one of his other patients had need of him. “He had brain cancer,” Chase stated.

            Tracy smiled, sadly. “Stage four. Nothing could be done.”

***

            Tracy sat on the couch in front of the tree that Jeffrey had helped to set up right before the spell that sent him to the hospital. The fireplace was cold and dark. There were no presents under the tree. Tracy sat by herself and stared blankly at the Christmas ornament that Charlie had made for school two years ago. It was a picture of his parents, Jeffrey and Tracy, framed with multicolored popsicle sticks.

            It was Christmas Eve again, but this time, the seemingly perfect family was fractured. The family was told by professionals that Jeffrey wouldn’t live to see the new year.

            “Dad was the Gift Giver.” Tracy was startled out of her trance by the voice of her son. Charlie stepped down the stairs. “Wasn’t he?” Tracy nodded her head. “I’ve known for the past several years now, but I wanted to keep it a mystery for Gracie,” Charlie admitted.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you two anything for Christmas this year,” Tracy practically whispered.

            Charlie looked at the ground. “It’s okay. I understand. Gracie might not, though. She’s too young.”

            Tracy bit her lips and tried to keep tears back. “I don’t know what to do.”

            Charlie smiled. “It’s okay. You should get to bed.”

            Tracy let out a little laugh through her choked up throat. “Since when did you become the man of the house?”

            Charlie glance to the side. “When dad asked me too.”

            Those words hit Tracy like a train. Not knowing what else to do, Charlie took his mother’s arm and accompanied her to her room. As they walked upstairs, Tracy said, “There won’t be any Gift Giver this year.”

            Charlie hid a grin. “You never know.”

            Tracy curled up in under the covers of hers and Jeffrey’s bed. “Goodnight, Mom,” Charlie said.

            “Goodnight.”

***

            “What happened then?” Chase asked to show that he was listening.

            Mrs. McArthur grinned. “My children happened.”

***

            Tracy walked down the stairs around nine-thirty in the morning on Christmas Day. She rehearsed in her head what she was going to say to her little Gracie about there being no Gift Giver this year. She had an idea of how the day would play out. First, disappointment from Gracie. Then they would pile into the car and drive to the hospital to spend what time they had left with their dad.

            Tracy turned to face her children in the living room when she received quite the pleasant shock. Charlie and Gracie looked up at their mother with gleaming eyes. The fireplace was roaring and several presents were placed under the tree.

            “Merry Christmas, Mom,” Charlie said.

            “Merry Christmas, Mommy,” Gracie exclaimed. Tracy clasped her hands over her mouth as tears of joy streamed down her face.

            “Breakfast is in the kitchen,” Charlie said, “When you’re ready.”

            Tracy realized that Charlie must had stayed awake all night to prepare for this special Christmas. For breakfast, he had made eggs, bacon, toast, and coffee. Gracie drank orange juice and kept looking back at the presents. Surely, she was anxious to open them, so Tracy quickly finished her breakfast so that they could start opening presents.

            The three of them curled up on the couch and Charlie grabbed the Bible. He read through the Christmas story with much expression to make it interesting for Gracie. He led them in prayer and thanked God for what He had given them. Upon closing, Gracie launched herself at the gifts.

            She grabbed a medium sized, neatly wrapped present and handed it to her mother. Tracy read the tag:

To: Mom

From: The Gift Giver

            Tracy’s heart was moved. Upon seeing this, Charlie told her, “They’re all addressed the same way.”

            “You did say that there are more than one Gift Giver,” Gracie said.

            Tracy smiled at her child. “Yes, I believe I did say that.”

            They opened their presents, and at long last, the only ones left under the tree where two presents addressed to Daddy from The Gift Giver. The family took the gifts and piled into the car to drive to the hospital.

***

            “Jeffrey died the day after Christmas,” Mrs. McArthur finished. “From then on, my children refused to write their names on any gift to me. It was always from the Gift Giver. It always reminded me to thank God for my children.”

            Chase smiled. “That’s a great story,” he paused and looked at the present still in Mrs. McArthur’s hands. “So, that present is from one of your children? Gracie or Charlie?”

            Mrs. McArthur shrugged. “Or my grandchildren. Honestly, though, it could be from anyone. I’ve shared that story with so many people, and they’ve all thought it was an excellent idea. The Gift Giver is my husband’s legacy, and that, I will carry on till the day I die.”

            Chase’s pager went off. It had been silent for so long, it surprised him. Mrs. McArthur noticed, and said, “Best be going, then, I suppose?” Chase nodded. “Before you go, could you help me into bed real quickly, dear?” she asked.

            As Chase moved Mrs. McArthur into bed, she said, “Thank you for listening to an old lady’s tale.” In turn, he thanked her for the story, and when to leave. “And Merry Christmas, Sir,” she called out.

            “Merry Christmas,” Chase replied. He carefully closed room 174 behind him before rushing to attend another, restless patient. Before he could even reach the door of one needy patient, his pager went off once again. With a sigh, he realized that this was no longer going to be a silent Christmas Eve night.

            Tired, and run down, Chase turned his house key at six o’clock on Christmas morning. He carefully crept up the stairs so as not to wake his parents. Upon seeing his bed, he collapsed on it and instantly fell asleep.

            Christmas pasted quickly for Chase. The presents were opened, food was eaten, and talk was exchanged. He continued to think about Mrs. McArthur’s story, and wondered how she was doing. As the Grayson family and in-laws where eating Christmas dinner, they heard the doorbell chime. Mr. Grayson wiped his mouth on a napkin and got up to answer the door.

            Everyone at the table listened to hear what the visitor wanted. “Yes, I see,” they heard Mr. Grayson say. He walked back to the table where his family looked up at him. He looked at Chase. “It’s Miss Davidson, Chase. She wants to talk to you.”

            Startled that Nurse Emily would come all this way, he jumped up and walked briskly to the door. “What’s up, girl?” He greeted her, “Want to come in?”

            Nurse Emily stood in doorway, bundled up in a warm, gray coat with fur lining the hood. Her brilliant blonde hair had bits of snowflakes in it. She was holding a little red package.

            Nurse Emily shook her head. “I’m not staying. My folks are expecting me at home.” She looked at the ground. “Mrs. McArthur died a few hours ago.”

            Chase was stunned. She seemed in such good health. Nurse Emily continued. “She wanted to let you know that she appreciated that you listened to her. She told me to give you this. She insisted that I give it to you today as her last wishes.”

            Nurse Emily awkwardly handed Chase the gift. He realized that it was the same box that Mrs. McArthur had received. He read the tag once again: To: You From: The Gift Giver.

Unsure what to think, he carefully pulled the ribbon loose and opened the little box.

The End

    ***

  Dedicated to the memory of Dr. Larry Pfahler.

An Issue of Faith: Should Creation be Defended with Evidence?

Please, keep in mind that I wrote this for a community college, and therefore to get a better grade I skewed my normal writing style. Overall, though, it essentially says what I want it to. Enjoy reading!

Have you ever wondered about the origin of the universe and everything in it? How did the solar system form the way it did in order to make Earth habitable? Then, though habitable, how did life come into existence on Earth? The oldest theory or belief, of course, is that God created everything all as it is within a six-day period. This theory was and is stated in the first book of the Bible, Genesis. However, within the last few decades, scientists have attempted to discover another possibility through gathering and analyzing evidence. A new theory that explained our existence was developed. It has been named Evolution because it proposes that human beings evolved through billions of years eventually into the beings we are now. This new theory was accepted and is now taught in schools. Yet, the teachings in Genesis did not die out the way belief in Roman and Greek gods did. The president of Answers in Genesis, Ken Ham, asked “The Science Guy,” Bill Nye in 2014 to debate with him concerning the topic of the creation or evolution of humans. However, Ken Ham should have been more careful during the debate because the Bible does not ask to be defended with evidence, but is to be accepted by faith.

            To begin with, what is evidence and theory in respect to science? Bill Nye, within the debate, used scientific evidence within his argument. Scientific evidence is something in the existing world that humans can sense. It must be something that humans can see, taste, touch tangibly, smell, or hear. Therefore, emotions or psychological feelings – as in having a bad or good feeling about something – cannot be used as scientific evidence.

            Such evidence is greatly used to promote a theory such as a theory concerning the origin of the universe. A theory is a hypothesis supported by scientific evidence. Many theories can be proved through direct observation. An example would be the theory that the earth is a sphere or ovoid rather than flat. This became a fact once it was proved through space travel and satellite photos. However, some theories can’t be or haven’t yet been proved. In addition to Creationism or Evolution, an example of such a theory would be the Tectonic Plate Theory. Scientists have observed the effect that the movement of tectonic plates have such as volcanoes and earthquakes. They have also gathered evidence that tectonic plates used to be different locations in years past such as similar fossils on different continents. Even so, while widely accepted in science and published in scientific journals and textbooks, it is still only a theory because it has not been directly observed. Scientists could discover today a new piece of evidence that destroys the theory of tectonic plates.

Therefore, even if a theory is widely accepted, we must keep in mind that it is indeed still a theory. Faith is when a theory is accepted as fact and is trusted to be true. Since traveling back in time is currently impossible, any personal stance about the origin of the universe is therefore faith no matter how much scientific evidence is gathered or debated.

With this in mind, it can be concluded that Ken Ham initially asked Bill Nye to debate a topic of faith. Evolution is the first scientific theory to challenge another theory attempting to use the same evidence or challenging the validation of said evidence. It is clear that the result of this debate proved nothing. Those biased towards Evolution say that Bill Nye clearly won. Patterson, an author for the Reports of the National Center for Science Education writes, “To the scientifically literate, Nye clearly won the debate…” Yet, those bias towards Creationism, my own Christian friends and family, say that Ken Ham clearly won. Therefore, what was the point of this debate?

This question is key because each person had a different motive for holding this debate. Therefore, each side “won” in different ways. Bill Nye came into the debate as a lawyer would enter a courtroom; presenting evidence and speaking convincingly to a jury. The website for Answers in Genesis posted an article that said, “Mr. Nye used the ‘skeptical method’ by the way, which is to throw out numerous arguments, true or false, and hope to deceive people into thinking he won… Mr. Nye admitted to using this method after the debate.” (Hodge). As such, Nye did win since the swaying of a person’s emotional opinion is how American society deems winners in arguments. However, this same article also explains Ham’s motivation for the debate. Answers in Genesis says, “But Mr. Ham didn’t lose the debate (and the gospel was spread to millions of people)” (Hodge). In respect to this, Mark 15:16 states, “He (Jesus) said to them, ‘Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation.’” The job that Jesus gave to those that follow Him is to tell, not convince. Therefore, each person won within their own motivation for participating in the debate.

So, creation should not be defended with evidence, yet Ken Ham, though his motive may have been to tell of the gospel, essentially ended up doing so because of Bill Nye’s debating tactics. Through evidence, a scientific hypothesis is either proved wrong or proved viable, not factual. Another hypothesis using the same evidence can also be viable, yet both cannot be true. Without evidence proving one wrong, the other cannot be proved solely viable. As far as evidence goes, both creationists and evolutionists seem to think they can defend their faith with the evidence provided.

This issue of creationists turning to evidence in defense of their faith is addressed in Reports for the National Center for Science Education. Patterson writes, “However, I think the Nye–Ham debate will unleash unprecedented divisiveness within the creationist movement. I expect that the ‘traditional’ creation-science ministries… will condemn Ham’s candor as a harmful blunder… because their less candid polemical debate strategy which tried to obscure the biblical roots of their assertions and pretend to have a scientific basis had been so successful for so long.” Essentially, Ham didn’t argue evidence as much as he did faith. He honestly stated within the debate which parts of his argument were evidence based and which were biblically based. According to Patterson, this was to the dismay of previous creationist movements trying to use scientific evidence over the faith required to believe in the Bible.

In this respect, nowhere is it stated in the Bible that God asks His followers to defend the Bible and its teachings. In fact, Hebrews 11:3 states, “By faith we understand that the universe was formed at God’s command, so that what is seen was not made out of what was visible.” The Bible goes as far as to say that creation can’t be proved or disproved with evidence. Therefore, if we chose to believe creation, we must understand it by faith. John 20:29 states, “Then Jesus told him, ‘Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.’” When it comes to creation and the gospel, Jesus blesses those who don’t need evidence to have faith.

So, if creation isn’t to be defended with evidence, is Answers in Genesis before God a morally wrong company? Absolutely not. As stated before, any currently valid theory cannot be disproved with current evidence, and in turn any faith concerning that theory. The motive of Answers in Genesis, if pure before God, is to offer the Bible’s teachings to an evidence-reliant world as a still valid theory. Historical science can easily be colored since it is a branch of science that can only be theorized and a topic that one must have faith.

Outside of historical science, all other sciences come to similar conclusions despite the scientist’s belief about the origin of the universe. An Evolutionist will believe that the law of gravity applies same as a Creationist. The difference is in the motive for scientific discovery. An Evolutionist will discover a new species of fish for the glory of having been the one to discover it. A Creationist will discover a new species of fish to find out more about God’s creation.

In essence, creation shouldn’t be defended with evidence because God through His Word doesn’t ask for it to be. Both the Evolution Theory and the Creation Theory require faith because they reference the same evidence. However, Creationists should not use evidence as a defense, but rather as complimentary to their faith. As far as the debate, Ken Ham held this viewpoint fairly good despite Bill Nye pulling the debate towards scientific evidence. Ham held himself very well especially considering the fact that he is not certified as a scientist, but Bill Nye is. Therefore, when it comes to proving Christianity as truth, the faith and life of a Gospel-believing person is a better means of proof than scientific evidence.

Works Cited

Hodge, Bodie. "Feedback: Did Ken Ham Lose the Debate?" Answers in Genesis. Answers in       Genesis, 30 Jan. 2015. Web. 04 Aug. 2016.

Luskin, Casey. "The Ken Ham - Bill Nye Debate: A Missed Opportunity." Christian Research     Institute, 2014. Web. 4 Aug. 2016.

Patterson, John W. "A Reflection on the Bill Nye - Ken Ham Debate." Reports of the National     Center for Science Education. National Center for Science Education, Mar.-Apr. 2014.          Web. 4 Aug. 2016.