Jean Coleman's Blog - Posts Tagged "love"

I looked at the thermometer and saw that it read 102 degrees. The heat was oppressive and it wasn't even noon. I wondered how I could make it through the day. But even worse than the heat was the homesickness. Most of the time I was content to live in Australia, but as the Christmas season approached I longed to be back in America. My mind just couldn't adjust to having Christmas come in the middle of summer vacation.

I actually dreaded the thought of Christmas. Perhaps what I missed the most was the excitement of gathering together with family and friends on Christmas day for a turkey dinner with all the trimmings. It just didn't seem like Christmas day with only our own little family around the table. We really needed someone to celebrate with us, but who could it be? All our friends were away for the holidays. Surely there was someone in Melbourne who would like to join our family for Christmas.

Suddenly an idea was birthed within me. We could adopt an elderly pensioner for the day, perhaps an old man who had no family. He could be our special Christmas guest. I could sense the excitement rising up within me and it didn't take long to make a phone call to Social Services with my request. They were more than delighted to arrange for someone to spend Christmas in our home.

Christmas then took on a whole new atmosphere. We had taken our eyes off of ourselves and focused them on another. Eagerly we purchased special gifts for our Christmas visitor and even baked him a beautiful cake with fluffy white icing. Christmas had become a time to give instead of receive.

The children spent Christmas afternoon waiting for our anticipated visitor to arrive. I heard their shout, "He's here! He's here!" And what a marvelous old man he was! Sid was slightly stooped and walked with a cane. A bowler hat sat jauntily upon his white hair. We quickly seated him in our best chair and a footstool was brought so he could rest his bad leg. Tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks as he was presented with his Christmas gifts. And how Sid enjoyed the traditional American Christmas dinner that had been prepared.

"Did you know that today is my birthday?" he asked as he passed his plate for seconds. "I was born on Christmas day many years ago, but it's been a long time since I had a real birthday celebration like this."

When I heard his words, I began silently to pray. "Dear God, please let there be some birthday candles in the drawer in the kitchen."

Five minutes later I was carrying a cake ablaze with candles into the dining room. We lifted our voices and sang the familiar chorus, "Happy birthday, dear Sid, happy birthday to you."

We learned the true meaning of Christmas on that hot summer day in Australia when we opened our home and our hearts to a stranger. Did we entertain an angel unaware? Or perhaps our visitor was someone even more special who had come to spend HIS birthday with us. "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me" (Matthew 26:40).

Several years ago we spent seven weeks in India and I was often frustrated by my inability to communicate with others while we were there. One afternoon we were informed by a pastor that he would like us to visit a young couple in the church whose only child, a boy of fourteen months, had died the previous day. One day the youngster had been healthy and happy and then overnight he had developed dysentery. Four days later, he was gone. They had buried their child that morning.

I wondered how I could possibly comfort this grieving family, especially when I learned that no interpreter would be going to the house with us. No one there could speak a word of English and we certainly couldn't communicate with them in Telugu. The language barrier loomed up before me like a formidable wall. How do you scale the heights of heartbreak when there are no words to provide a foothold?

The child's parents lived in a tiny hut with a thatched roof and a dirt floor, but as I stood in the doorway of that simple dwelling, I sensed the presence of God filling the place. The Lord certainly understood the pain of losing a son for He had also watched as His only begotten Son died on Calvary. And now He longed to comfort this young couple through us and to assure them of His eternal love.

As the child's mother began to walk across the room toward me, her anguish and pain was evident. Never have I felt so totally inadequate. What did I have to give this grieving woman? I couldn't even speak one word to convey my sympathy. And then the Lord spoke into my heart, "You can speak to her in the language of love, a language that requires no words."

As the young woman moved toward me, I opened my arms wide and received her into them. I embraced her as a mother would embrace a wounded child and desperately she clung to me. No words were necessary. We were communicating at a level that words could never hope to achieve. As her tears flowed, mine intermingled with them.

What a blessing to speak the language of love. My tears told her that I cared deeply. My arms imparted to her comfort and peace. My lips against her cheek showed love and compassion. I sensed her tense body relaxing as I held her close. She was not wrapped in the arms of a stranger, but rather enfolded in the arms of God. The Lord had used my arms to envelop her in His.

The language of love is the language of the spirit. It can be spoken through a smile, an embrace or a tear. It is uttered through a friendly arm draped around a shoulder or through a hand reaching out to grasp the wrinkled hand of an elderly widow. A wave across a crowded room can convey to a rejected person that she is accepted, not only by you but also in the Beloved. And the wonderful thing is that the language of love can be spoken anywhere in the world and the Holy Spirit Himself will be your interpreter.

Reach out today to someone who is hurting. Don't be concerned about what words to say. Just speak the language of love.

Viola had a tender heart. She had given her heart to the Lord at the age of seventy-five and immediately felt the call to be a servant. She reached out a helping hand to the sick, the aged, the lonely, the unloved and began to share the love of Jesus with them.

Joe was an elderly man whose family had discarded him years before. Viola seemed to be his only friend. She drove him to the doctor's office, prepared him hot soup, tidied up his small apartment and continually told Joe about her best friend named Jesus.

Joe had a very bad heart and finally it was determined that heart surgery was the only answer. The evening before Joe was to enter the hospital, Viola stopped by his apartment to see if there was anything he needed or if there was anything that she could do to help him. "There is one thing that I need," Joe responded reluctantly, "but I hesitate to ask you to help me with it."

"Don't be silly," Viola replied with a smile. "That's what I'm here for. What is it that I can do for you?"

Joe looked down at his lap before he answered. "Well, actually I need someone to cut my toenails. My arthritis has been so bad that I haven't been able to bend over to cut them for months and I'm ashamed to go into the hospital with my feet looking like this."

Viola tried to keep the repulsion from showing on her face. "No problem, Joe," she answered. "Give me the clippers." Kneeling down on the floor before him, she removed his slippers and socks, fighting nausea as the odor of sweaty feet filled her nostrils. Silently she prayed. "Lord, I don't want to cut this old man's toenails."

And from within she heard a still small voice reply, "Have you forgotten that I washed the disciples' feet?"

Humbled before the Lord, her tears fell upon Joe's feet as she ministered to him. Suddenly she felt Joe's hand upon her shoulder and raised her eyes to look up at his face. Joe's eyes were also filled with tears. "Viola," he asked with a shaky voice, "I want to know your friend Jesus too. What must I do to be saved?"

Viola brought Joe over to our house that night and we had the privilege of introducing him to the Savior. Joe opened his heart, received forgiveness of his sins and was born again.

A week later we stopped by the hospital to see how Joe was doing following his heart surgery. At the information desk we were told that there was no one by that name listed in their patient files. "But he has to be there," we explained. "He had surgery this morning and should be in the Coronary Care Unit. Could you look again?"

The receptionist checked the computer a second time and then asked us if we were relatives. Upon learning that we were pastors, she informed us that Joe had died on the operating table that morning during surgery.

But we knew that Joe was not dead. He was very much alive. He had simply changed his address and gone home to meet His Savior face to face. We also knew that Joe had already seen Jesus through the life of a humble woman with a toenail clipper in her hand, a woman named Viola.

It had been a long hard week. Not only was I exhausted but I was discouraged as well. My husband seemed to sense my mood. "Why don't we just stop by a restaurant for something to eat on our way home?" he asked as we got into the car after church. His suggestion was truly an answer to my prayer. What a blessing.

But the Lord was taking me to a restaurant for more than a meal. There was someone waiting there for me who was going to shine into my life bringing a transforming word that would put joy back into my heart. His chosen messenger was a little girl about six years old who was sitting at the next table, a most unlikely angel in disguise.

The tables were fairly close together and at first I thought it was my imagination, but it soon became apparent that the little girl was staring directly at me. In fact, her eyes had been upon me from the minute we had followed the hostess across the room to be seated. While I was reading the menu, I noticed that the little girl was whispering to her mother and then pointing directly at me. I couldn't make out what was being said, but it was obvious that I was the object of the conversation. Fighting self-consciousness, I kept my eyes on the menu, trying to ignore all the attention that I seemed to be attracting.

A short time later as the family at the adjacent table finally stood up to leave, the little girl suddenly came running over to where I was seated. Looking down at my feet, she exclaimed, "Those are the most beautiful shoes that I have ever seen in my whole life. They must be the most beautiful shoes in the whole world. I just love them!"

Her words had an amazing effect on me. I felt like Dorothy skipping down the yellow brick road with the ruby slippers upon her feet. "Well, thank you very much," I responded. "They're brand new shoes. In fact this is the first time I'm wearing them. I'm so glad that you like them."

With a smile and a wave of her hand, she was gone. But she had left something wonderful behind. I was no longer feeling tired and discouraged. I was a woman who was wearing the most beautiful shoes in the world. The words of this child had revived me and given me a different perspective of myself. I glanced down at my feet. She was right. They were beautiful shoes and I felt beautiful wearing them. And at the close of our meal, when I stood up to leave the restaurant, my step was light. I was once more walking with joy in my heart. An encourager had encouraged me. A little child had shown me the beauty in little things that we often don't even notice.

Perhaps this may sound silly, but from that time on whenever I put those shoes upon my feet, I felt good. I felt confident. After all, I was wearing the most beautiful shoes in the world. They were no longer just plain, ordinary black high-heeled shoes with little bows attached. They were special shoes that made me feel special.

This happened many years ago and ultimately the shoes wore out and went the way of all old shoes. But the memory of the little girl who made me feel special will always remain. I learned an important lesson that day in the restaurant. I learned the value of encouragement.

How many lives would be transformed if there were more encouragers in the world? We need to begin to speak words of blessing, words that build up instead of tear down. The ministry of encouragement is a dynamic ministry. Don't ever underestimate the power of an encouraging word.

by Jean Coleman
Author of "Chapter 29 Revisited"
www.facebook.com/chapter29

Her shopping completed, a young mother stood in front of the grocery store with her four small children and overflowing cart. It had been a long morning and the youngsters were tired and fussy. She sighed as she contemplated the challenge of getting the children and groceries into the car.

Just then she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to find one of the older women from the church smiling at her. "You look like you have your hands full," her friend said. "I'm sure it isn't easy to raise four children in this day and age."

As the two women continued to talk together, the children stayed close to their mother's side. The smallest boy clutched the hem of her garment tightly in his hand like a security blanket. He wasn't about to let her out of his sight.

It was obvious that the mother was very much aware of her little brood at her feet. Every few moments she would stretch out her hand to stroke a child's hair or to hoist up a pair of drooping jeans. She opened her purse and took out a tissue to wipe a runny nose and a few minutes later she bent down to tie a shoelace. There was no doubt about it, she was love in action.

The older woman watched all of this mothering with great interest and finally asked a very pointed question: "How do you manage to divide your love among so many children?"

The young mother was instant in season with the answer. "I don't divide it. I multiply it. Then there's always plenty of love to go around."

What a tremendous number of children there are in the family of God. Our Heavenly Father has a multitude of sons and daughters composed of every kindred and tribe scattered all across the face of the earth. "How do you divide Your love among so many children, Lord?" we might be tempted to ask. And God replies, "I don't divide it. I multiply it!"

Isn't it wonderful that God has more than enough love to go around. There is always more than enough love for everyone. He gives and gives and still has more love to give.

And the Lord is always very much aware of those little ones who stand close to Him, holding tightly to His garment of righteous. His hand is always outstretched to comfort one of His children or to apply discipline when necessary. When the shoelaces of our lives get all tangled up, He is there to help us straighten things out.

Multiplied love! Jesus multiplied the loaves and the fish the day he fed the multitude and there was plenty of food for everyone. There was even enough food left over that the disciples were able to fill twelve baskets with the fragments. It's interesting to note that there were twelve baskets and also twelve disciples. Not a one of the disciples went away empty-handed or empty-hearted. The love of Jesus never runs out. It just keeps on multiplying.

As disciples we are also called upon to share a lot of love with others. We reach out to the hurting and wounded, loving them with the love of the Lord. The miracle is that we give and give and yet there is always more of God's love on reserve within us. The multiplying God never ceases to multiply His love in us and through us.

Our amazing God always has more than enough!

Dog pounds are depressing. We wandered through the rows of cages filled with dogs of every size, shape and description. Each cage bore a large cardboard sign stating the date telling when the dog had been impounded and also the date it would be put to sleep if not claimed. The atmosphere was heavy. It seemed as though even the dogs knew that their chances of survival were slim. Their only hope was that someone would come and pay the price for their release and give them a home. They needed a savior—a deliverer.

We were looking for a companion—a friend. That's really what most people are seeking in a dog. It's a great feeling to come home and find a tail-wagging bundle of fur who thinks you are the greatest person in the whole world. When you think about it, dogs don't actually serve much purpose except to show love and affection. And that's exactly what we were seeking on that cold winter's day at the shelter—a lovable friend.

The dog was sitting in the corner of his cage when we first saw him. Certainly there wasn't much to attract us to this particular dog. He was dirty, his fur was all matted and the dog was so thin you could actually see his ribs. It appeared that the poor thing hadn't eaten a good meal in weeks. But as we approached his cage, the dog stood up and began to enthusiastically wag his tail.

My husband crouched down on the floor next to the cage and held out his hand toward the dog. "Come here, boy," he called gently.

Without hesitation, the dog immediately came over to us. His tongue shot out through the links of the cage and he licked Jack's extended hand with wet signs of his affection. And in that moment he became our dog. He belonged to us. He was called and he was chosen. Our hearts were joined with this unlikely specimen of a dog. I guess you could almost call it love at first sight.

Before we could take the dog home, we had to pay the price to redeem him. Once the seventy-five dollars was paid, the cage was unlocked and he came bounding out into our arms. The dog had once been lost, but now he was found. The dog had a new owner, a new home and even a new name. He became Dennis—our chosen dog. His past was soon to be forgotten and a bright future loomed before him .

It was an exciting moment as we led Dennis into our home for the first time. Our home was now his home and the first item on the agenda was a good bath. When Dennis came out of the tub, he looked like a completely different dog. He was absolutely beautiful and smelled fresh and clean.

Next he was given a big bowl of dog food and some fresh water. "You'll never be hungry or thirsty again," we promised him. "We're going to take good care of you from now on."

When Dennis had finished eating, we put a leather collar around his neck with a tag that clearly stated his name along with our address and phone number. Dennis would never be lost again. He was clearly identified as belonging to us and had our promise of protection.

This is not to say that Dennis didn't still have a lot to learn. The dog had never been housebroken, so it was very important that he quickly learned there were to be no messes inside our house. We also expected him to be obedient to all our commands. Dennis was trained to come when he was called and to stay right next to us when we went out for walks together. A tragic experience with a bedroom slipper taught him that things belonging to his master were to be treated with respect. Words can't express what a wonderful dog Dennis has become or the amount of joy that he has given us over the years. since we brought him home.

And I need to add that Dennis is a very privileged pooch. In the evening he stretches out on the couch between us with his head in my lap. He's our dog now, a part of our family, and we love him very much.

The story of Dennis is a simple parable of salvation that illustrates God's love for lost people. It's a message about the Master who was willing to pay the price to redeem them and make His home their home. How wonderful that the gospel can be expressed in such a way that even a child can understand that Jesus came to seek and to save that which was lost. I'm so glad that when I was lost, Jesus came and paid the price for me.
Chapter 29 Revisited

Love is everything that's lovely, love is patient, love is kind,
Love's not jealous, love's not boastful, no arrogance you find.
Love's not rude and not resentful, love rejoices not in wrong,
Love is not a clanging cymbal, love is not a noisy gong.
Love is gentle, love is tender, love is giving, love is good,
Love is righteous, love is holy, love is living as one should.
Love is thinking first of others and seeing to their need,
Love is mercy and forgiveness, does not covet, knows no greed.
Love is not puffed up or haughty, shows humility to all,
Love is hating what is evil once you've heard the Master's call.
Love is giving to your neighbor, even when you go without,
Love is walking close to Jesus, overcoming fear and doubt.
Love is hoping, love's believing, love's enduring to the end,
Love is bearing all things gladly because Jesus is your friend.
Love remains with you forever, love will never pass away,
Love's a living constant presence as you walk with Christ each day.
Love is everything that's perfect, love is everything that's right,
Love is following after Jesus and keeping Him in sight.
Love's the answer to all problems, love's the greatest gift that's known,
Love reflects our Maker's image for through love God's grace is shown.

I'll never forget the first time I saw Katie. It was in the final moments of the Christmas musical being presented at our church. In the closing scene, the actor portraying Jesus was to descend from his throne and walk slowly to the front of the stage. Everything was moving right on schedule. As the music swelled to a crescendo, our pseudo-Jesus stretched forth his arms to the people in the audience as the choir with lifted voices sang, "Come unto Me! Come unto Me! All ye who labor, come unto Me!"

There was a powerful anointing in the church as the musical reached the carefully rehearsed climax. Several actors and actresses had been placed strategically in the audience and the script called for them to leave their seats at predetermined times and go forward in response to the invitation being issued by Jesus. The pre-set musical cues were perfectly timed to allow each person to climb the stairs up to the stage and receive a blessing from the man playing Jesus. What could possibly go wrong?

As the director, I was seated in the front row and I anxiously watched the final scene being played out before me. Everything was going just as planned. There went the first actor onto the stage to receive his blessing. As he returned to his seat, the second came forward right in time with the music—onto the stage and off of the stage. The timing was perfect and I breathed a sigh of relief.

And then to my utter amazement, an unknown woman rose from her seat. She came running down the center aisle and darted up the stairs onto the stage. Throwing herself down at Jesus' feet, she cried out, "Oh Jesus, please save me! My life is such a mess! I need You."

Although the choir seemed momentarily confused by what was happening, they continued on with the powerful song without missing a beat. The young man portraying Jesus stayed completely in character and you could almost sense the anointing come upon him. He reached down and helped the anguished woman to her feet and wrapped her in his arms, holding her briefly as she sobbed against his shoulder. Then he placed his hands upon her head and I could see his lips moving as he prayed a blessing upon her.

The anthem was rapidly drawing to a close and I really had no idea what was going to happen next. But I had no need to worry because "Jesus" had everything under control. With the woman's hand in his, he gently assisted her down the stairs from the stage and they walked together up the aisle to the back of the church. I'm not sure that those in the audience even realized what was taking place right before their eyes.

As the congregation rose to its feet giving the choir a standing ovation, I quickly left the sanctuary, eager to meet our unexpected addition to the Christmas musical. Katie was there in the lobby with tears still streaming down her face. The miracle of Christmas became a reality as she prayed with me and received Jesus as her Savior. Christ the Lord was born that day in her heart. The Lord had given our church a wonderful Christmas gift—a precious soul added to the kingdom of God—a woman named Katie.