Category Archives: comfort

Hands

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In the grip of Christ, we have no need.

My dad drew up my hand and placed it next to my grandfather’s, who was in the casket.  He then placed his next to mine, so that all three were in a row, saying, “You see, Sammy, where you get your hands?”  My young eyes noticed the similarities between my grandpa’s hands, my dad’s, and my own.  Each had the same wrinkly skin and stubby strength, passed on from generation to generation.  In that moment, as a little boy, I learned more than just genetics; I learned that everyone you love, will leave you, no matter how strong his hands.

Our safety in life is not found in all the trivial and temporary things that can be stripped away in a second.  Our comfort in life is not found in plans, pleasures, power, or people, for all will vanish.  If we place ourselves into their greasy hands, we will slip right out.  These things will always let you down.  People will always let you down, your possessions will always let you down, pleasures will always let you down.  None of these have hands that are fit to hold the human soul.

So what should you give yourself to and where is your solace found?  Recently, some have said that religion is not the answer.  They are quick to point out that Religion will let us down, too—that religion hurts, drops, kills.  It is graspless.

When your friends fail, when your money disappears, when your reputation is tattered, where is your comfort to be found?  Even more, when your life itself refuses to breathe again, what is your comfort in death?  What will hold you then?

It seems that we need hands that have been both to heaven and earth.  We need hands that hold the power of the cosmos and that hold the palm of the child.  We need hands that have thrust the stars into their orbits and that have thrust the heart into the human.  We need hands that have both the power to heal and the tenderness to hold.

The hands of Jesus Christ are the hands for us.  Not only did they spin the world into motion, but also they touched the oozing sores of a leper and dried the tears of a prostitute.  They wakened the universe with power and they writhed in pain from mortal nails.  His hands were both divine and dead, miraculous and mortal.

The holes in his hands are a portal through which heaven and earth touch.  And that is where he holds us.  That is our solace and comfort.  That is where we will never be shaken, the spot from which we will never be let go.  In the grip of Christ, we have no need.  In the grip of Christ, we can let go of our troubles, our idols, and our self-definitions.

What is truly, deeply, our only comfort?  Even the most non-religious person can see that our comfort is not in what we can hold onto, for our grasp is so weak and the natural course of this life rips everything out of our grip.  My solace and comfort come not from what I can hold onto, but from Whom is holding onto me.

So reads the Heidelberg Catechism, “What is your only comfort in life and in death?”  The answer: “That I am not my own, but belong—body and soul, in life and in death—to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.”

You belong to Jesus Christ and he will never let go of you.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.  For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him.  And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.[1]

© Samuel Kee, 2012

[1] Colossians 1:15-17, ESV.

The Truck

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Worth comes from how much someone is willing to pay for something.

One thing that has always struck me about working with teenagers is their tendency toward self-loathing.  We’ve often had times of self-expression, where the students have the opportunity to write down their struggles.  Inevitably, more than one will write something like, “I loathe myself.” 

But I don’t think that this is just a teenage struggle; I just happen to work with teenagers.  My guess is that were I to give adults the same opportunity, they might write similar sorts of things.

The issue is our struggle with self-worth: we don’t think we’re worth a whole lot.  But where does our worth come from?  Please humor a simple illustration.

Let’s say that you’re crossing the street, when out of nowhere, a truck drives straight in your direction.  It looks as if the truck is going to hit you.  Then from the back of you, someone pushes you out of the way, just in time.  You get shoved to the ground; you are shaken, but unharmed.  You look back over your shoulder and see the person who saved you lying on the ground.  Though you survived, he did not.  The truck took his life instead of yours.

Now, how much is your life worth?  According to what just happened, you are now worth the life of one person.  One person had to give his life in order to preserve yours.  Your life is worth at least his life.  And if you think about it, that’s quite a bit. 

How much something is worth comes from what someone is willing to pay for it. 

This man was willing to pay for your life with his life.  This means that your life is worth one, whole life—which is priceless.  Even if before you crossed the street you felt pretty worthless, you can’t say that now.  So long as you’re safely on the other side of the street and there’s a man lying facedown in the middle of it by the truck, you’ve got new worth.  For the rest of your life, you have to “live with” the knowledge that you are worth the life of another. 

God saw you trying to cross from this life to the next, and then he saw the truck.  He came to our streets to push us out of the way.  He died on the cross in order to save us. 

Now how much are you worth?

You are worth the value of the Son of God.  No matter where you walk from here or how you feel today, that is the price tag hanging over your head.  You are worth the Son of God. 

Worth comes from how much someone is willing to pay for something.  God was willing to pay with the life of his own Son in order to purchase you for himself.  You can never say that you are worthless; I’m afraid that God would strongly disagree with you. 

Our worth does not come from our accomplishments, neither does it diminish from our failures.  We have an “alien worth,” which comes from outside of us.  Our worth comes from the cross, bought with the blood of Jesus. 

Do you loathe yourself?  Perhaps you don’t know how much you’re worth.  May you live the rest of your days knowing your extreme worth and feeling the incredible love that God has for you. 

© 2010 by Samuel Kee

Suicide

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He is there among the wreckage, as the single, constant, and irrefutable evidence of hope in your life.

The 2008 movie WALL-E provides an unlikely portrait of hope, which is crucial that we understand just after National Suicide Prevention Week, which was September 5-11.  If you haven’t seen it, the movie is about what happens when the Earth becomes unlivable, forcing humans to retreat into outer space in order to live.  The only thing left on the trashed planet is rubble and destruction, in addition to a robot named WALL-E.  He spends his days trying to clean up the refuse. 

One day, a robot named Eve is sent to Earth by the humans living on a ship in outer space to find out if life is sustainable.  WALL-E shows her a single plant that he found among the rubble.  As soon as she detects the life of this plant, she takes it and returns to the ship, holding this solid and irrefutable proof that life is once again sustainable on Earth. 

This single, green plant, standing up amidst the rubble, is a signal that hope is not lost; the Earth is livable and it is time to start rebuilding.

Let me remind you that the word “resurrection” comes from a Greek word that literally means “stand up.”  The resurrection is the event where one man stood up, even though he was destroyed by death. 

Jesus joined the garbage of the grave.  He entered into the trashed Earth with us and allowed himself to be soaked up by our dismal human condition.  Because everything will die, he died.  He became hopeless, thrown into the heap with us, meeting us in the trash rather than the triumph.

Then he stood up. 

Jesus is the single, green plant standing up on this planet.  And no matter how bad it has gotten or will get, he remains standing.  So long as he is standing up for us, hope is not lost.  Hope is here, whether you realize it or not.  You are never without hope so long as one person is standing up for you.

Your life may feel like a field that has been scorched by fire, so that it is black and smoldering.  You may feel like you’ve been trashed and there are no signs of life, anywhere.  You think that nothing is going your way and that nobody is standing up for you.

At such a time as this, you need to fix your eyes on Jesus, the single source of life that’s standing up for you.  And so long as he is standing up for you, all hope is not gone.  You have a future.  It all does not end in destruction, but life.  Jesus’ resurrection means that it is time to start rebuilding.  Life is possible, so long as there is just one living thing. 

You can never say that you are hopeless.  There is always hope since Jesus stands up for you.  And he will never sit down on you.  Since not even death could hold him down, there is no trial or circumstance in your life that can prevent him from standing.  He always stands up for you.  He is there among the wreckage, as the single, constant, and irrefutable evidence of hope in your life. 

If you know someone who is struggling to find hope, or who has faced one trial upon another, please tell them about hope stands.  Thank you.  

© 2010 by Samuel Kee

The Boy in the Pit

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There was once a boy who had suffered a great deal in his life. One day, he found himself being lowered by a single rope down into a dark pit. He was being lowered down toward the bottom very slowly. He did not know how he got on the end of this rope or who held the other end. He did not know why he was being lowered into a pit, either. He just knew that he was descending deeper and deeper into the darkness.

He tried to call out for help, but nobody answered. He called out to God, but God did not come to his rescue. The boy strained his neck looking upward to the surface. He kept looking toward the fading light above him, calling out to God with desperate cries. “God, help me!” and “God, save me!” But there was no answer. He kept looking upward toward God, but God did not help him.

The boy finally hit the bottom of the pit. It was dark and terrifying. The boy did not want to give up, so he kept looking for a rescuer to come. He kept straining his neck by looking upward toward the miniscule sky, now barely visible. Minutes passed and still no answer. After hours passed, the boy lost hope. He slowly lowered his head in defeat. As he lowered his head, he saw something that he could not believe, right in front of him on the ground in the pit. There on the ground before him was God, with arms outstretched, waiting for him.

The boy was finally low enough to see God.

When you are in the dark pit, God probably will not come from above. God will probably be in the pit with you, waiting for you to notice. God does not rescue from without, but from within. God enters our dark world with us in order to deliver us. He is at the bottom of our pain, not the top. He sits quietly like the angels in the empty tomb of John 20, waiting for us to notice.

© 2010 by Samuel Kee

Chainsaw

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He never gives us more than we can handle.

I was sixteen years old, working for a log home construction company.  One of my coworkers did something one day that I’ll never forget: he handed me a chainsaw.  There I was, barely able to drive, working with these grown men, day after day.  We were in the thick of putting up the walls to this log home.  Everyone was busy and I was the nearest guy around.  That’s when it happened, that’s when he handed me the chainsaw and said, “Sam, I need all these parts of the wall cut out, take the chainsaw to do it.” 

I had never used a chainsaw.  I didn’t even weigh a 100 pounds soaking wet.  I was just a kid—or so I thought.  But when this grown man handed me the chainsaw, he did more than build a house that day.  He built a man. 

All I heard, over the deafening sound of the motor, was, “I believe in you.” 

There were no lessons, to tips, no words of encouragement, just, “We need this done, so do it.”  I’m not sure if I grabbed the chainsaw or if the chainsaw grabbed me, but the two of us got it done: I, trembling against the motor, and the chainsaw, cutting an identity into me, as much as it did the wood.

There are at least two lessons here.  First, whom are you handing a chainsaw to?  There has to be someone in your life that you can take the time to believe in, when he or she is least expecting it.  Find a job that seems impossible and then entrust it into the hands of the least likely person to get it done.  Give a chainsaw to a sixteen year old featherweight and then step back and see what happens.

At this point, I can hear all of the mothers gasping in disapproval; but I can also hear all of the fathers grunting and saying to themselves, “Why didn’t I think of that first?”

Second, take time to realize that God has been handing you a chainsaw, but you saw it as something else.  God sometimes hands us things that we would never take up on our own.  He hands us trials that we don’t have the faintest idea of what to do with.  Yet, here we are, holding this deafening thing that could easily take our leg off, or build something great. 

And he doesn’t ask us if were ready.  He doesn’t ask us if we’ve had the proper training to go through this particular trial or handle this particular situation.  God just looks at the job he wants to get done, then he looks at us, and hands us the chainsaw. 

It’s heavy, it’s scary, and hot oil drips down our leg, but here we are, holding what we’ve never held before.  Though God doesn’t say it so that we can hear it, this is what he is speaking to us, “You are a man” or “You are a woman.”  “I believe in you.”

You wouldn’t be going through that trial if God didn’t think that you could do it, for he never gives us more than we can handle. 

Put on your safety glasses and start cutting.  Don’t give up.  You are building something for God and proving that you are his faithful and capable worker.    

© 2010 by Samuel Kee

The Little Agent

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His love transforms us from objects to agents.

I remember that it was a very difficult week.  As the pastor began to pray, I bowed my head.  Shortly after, I felt a small hand on the back of my neck.  It was my four year old son, sitting next to me.  Somehow, he felt the need to console me, so he began gently rubbing my neck, as if he were the adult, easing the fears of a child.

I’m not sure what led him to do this.  I had not revealed my burdens to my children prior to this.  But he knew better.  He could sense that something was wrong with his dad.  When he found just the right moment, he began to comfort me. 

There comes a time in our lives when we transition from being objects of love to agents of love.  Of course, we need to swing back and forth throughout our lives–sometimes being each simultaneously.  But when we’re children, we are most often, and only, objects of love.  Parents pour out their care, love, and affection on their children.  Children receive countless moments and hours of love, being objects of their parent’s affection. 

But eventually, something happens.  They become agents of love.  That is what I experienced at church that morning.  My son switched from being the object to being the agent; I, in turn, became the object of his love. 

God pours his love out on us objects.  We have to start as the objects of God’s love.  He loves to lavish love on his children.  However, there comes a time when his love transforms us from objects to agents.  It’s not enough just to receive God’s love, we must live out God’s love.

The only reason my son knew how to console me is because I have consoled him first.  The love I gave him turned into active love toward his world.  That’s a fundamental quality of God’s love.  You know it’s God’s love when it makes the shift from object to agent.  God’s love always follows that course.  

God’s love does not rest; it is restless.  It does not flow into our lives without changing us, morphing us, from objects to agents.  God’s love is efficacious, performing what it sets out to accomplish.  It’s like acid, which can’t help but leave its mark. 

Those who have truly experienced God’s love will not sit still with it.  On the one hand, they will enjoy their time basking as the object of God’s love.  But on the other, they will do everything it takes to bring his love into the lives of others.

© 2010 by Samuel Kee

The Elephant

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My sons riding on the elephant

Last night was a circus, literally.  Some good friends of ours invited us to go to the Carson and Barnes Circus with them; they even paid our way!  We had so much fun!  The human acrobatics were amazing and the animals were top notch. 

Part of our fun was an elephant ride.  My two boys were allowed to climb on the back of a huge elephant for a short ride.  To be honest, it was a bit unnerving for us, their parents.  The animal was so big—unlike anything we had ever seen before.  But our boys were quite brave and they thoroughly enjoyed their time riding on the back of this powerful pachyderm.    

Afterward, I asked one of my sons what it was like.  He told me, “When it walked, it swayed; and when it swayed, you swayed with it, back and forth, back and forth.”  Then he added, “I’m just glad I had that red handle to hold onto.  Otherwise, I would have fallen off.” 

Of course, there’s a life lesson here.  The “experiences” we ride on throughout our lives are huge.  And when they sway, we sway with them.  Life has us mounted on top of a huge beast and we have no choice but to sway in concert with it.  Sometimes we have no other choice but to “go with the flow.”  When life sways, we sway with it; we do everything we can not to fall off.

That’s when we need to reach for the red handle.  The red handle manifests itself in a variety of forms.  I encourage you to look for a red handle in your trial.  It could be a Scripture promise to hold onto, such as Romans 8:28 or Isaiah 43:1-4; it could be a fond memory; it could be an encouraging person; it could be a talent or a past success.  There is always a red handle for us to grab hold of, way up on top of the elephant.

And if you can’t find any red handles in your life, look to Jesus.  Since the word “resurrection” literally means “to stand up,” this means that Someone is always standing up for us.  Even our greatest and strongest enemy of death could not keep Jesus down.  Nothing can keep him down; he is always standing up for you.

© 2010 by Samuel Kee

Into the Depths

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The Fish Vomits Jonah onto Dry Ground

Jonah wanted to die because God did not make sense to him.  In five different places in the book of Jonah, we learn of his self-injurious intentions.  First, he ran away from God, which was a death-wish for any prophet to do.  Second, he did not try to save himself during the terrible storm aboard the ship bound to Tarshish.  Third, he commands the sailors to throw him overboard into the raging sea.  Fourth, he flat out says, “Lord, take my life, for it is better for me to die than to live” (Jonah 4:3).  Fifth, similarly, he says, “It would be better to die than to live” (Jonah 4:8).

Jonah reached this point because God did not make sense to him.  Jonah was a prophet, whose duty it was to tell the truth.  Jonah was well-respected and had a great reputation as an effective and truthful communicator (2 Kings 14:25).  That’s why it was so disturbing when God spoke to Jonah and told him to prophesy something that would not come true.  God told Jonah to say, “Forty more days and Nineveh will be overturned” (Jonah 3:4).  However, Jonah knew that this was not true.  Jonah knew that God was not going to destroy Nineveh, but save it.  Afterwards, he says, “O Lord, is this not what I said when I was still at home?  That is why I was so quick to flee to Tarshish.  I knew that you are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abounding in love, a God who relents from sending calamity” (Jonah 4:2). 

God told Jonah to say that Nineveh would be destroyed; but God did not destroy Nineveh.  That made Jonah a false prophet, whose punishment could be death (Deut 18:21-22).  Jonah, the well-respected prophet, not only had to give a false prophesy, but also was humiliated.  On top of this, while his reputation was ruined, the wicked Ninevites were saved.  That is why Jonah wanted to die: God did not make sense to him.

In the middle of all of this, Jonah gets swallowed by a great fish.  In the belly of the fish, we read how much Jonah gets wrapped up in his trial.  The language is such that we don’t know where Jonah ends and where the trial begins.  Currents swirl about him and waves sweep over him (2:3); waters engulf him, the deep surrounds him, and seaweed wraps around his head (2:5).  The image is that of being so wrapped up in your trial, that it becomes a part of you.  You can’t separate yourself from your suffering, it clings to you as seaweed around your neck.

Helmut Thielicke writes, “We must all be plunged into the depths, from which we then shall cry, because it is only there that God can come to us with the fullness of His blessing.”

Hundreds of years later, Jesus identified himself with Jonah, the one whose life was plunged into the depths.  Although Jesus could have identified himself with the powerful Lord of the story, the One in control of heaven and earth, the wind and the waves, he did not.  In Matthew 12:39-40, Jesus chooses Jonah, the one who was buried for three days and nights in the belly of the disgusting fish. 

Jesus is saying to us, “I’m coming in with you!”  You see, God is not just “God with us,” he is more than that; he is “God suffering with us.”  He enters our trials with us and wraps himself up in that which wraps us.  He makes the journey with us, to the land where God does not make sense and where we cannot see a way out. 

The story of Jonah is amazing in that God not only saves those who are wicked and do not know him, the Ninevites, but also God saves the one who knows him intimately, yet is fleeing in bitterness.

© 2010 by Samuel Kee

Under the Boat

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There is another side of faith.

I made a new friend this weekend!  His name is Dr. Todd Wilson, pastor of Calvary Memorial Church in Oak Park, IL.  He was a guest speaker at The Chapel, where I heard him on Sunday.  Well, truth be told, I never actually met him.  But his words were so compelling and “heart-brought” that I feel he understands me as a friend.  So, Dr. Wilson (can I call you Todd?), if it’s okay with you, I’d like to think of you as my friend for now.

Todd spoke about the cries of an adopted and beloved child of God from Romans 8.  Todd and his wife recently adopted twin boys from Ethiopia, making the sermon extra poignant.  But there were two climaxes in the message for me. 

First, he helped make sense of the word Abba in Romans 8.  He pointed out the context often used around Abba in Scripture.  The word Abba, though it is a term of endearment that a child can use for his or her dad, is used in contexts of crisis.  Jesus called God Abba in Mark 14, right before he went to the cross.  And in Romans 8, the term Abba is used for Christians in crisis, who are overwhelmed with hardship.  Todd said, “Abba, Father, is the cry of hope in the midst of hardship.”  That’s brilliant. 

We cry “Abba” when God does not feel like a true Abba, when we cannot see his face or feel his grace—yet we cry anyway.  We cry in faith that he is still there, that he still cares, and that he is completely aware.  Abba is a paradoxical address, for it encapsulates the sincerity of our faith in a loving Father when that faith is being tested.  Abba refuses to let hardship have the last word.

The second climax for me was an illustration that Todd gave about a boat.  He and his family were out on a lake boat one day.  Todd asked his seven year-old daughter if she’d be willing to swim with him under the boat.  Wisely, she flat out refused; but eventually, after much prodding, he talked her into it.  He instructed her to grab hold of his body and not let go until they surfaced on the other side of the boat.  Though she was scared, she held her breath, grabbed hold of her Abba, I mean dad, and went with him under the water, under the boat.  Soon they surfaced on the other side.

God asks his adopted children to go with him under the boat.  There is another side of faith that God wants us to experience.  There is another place that God may be leading you to, on the other side of what’s safe.  Like the daughter, you and I are on the edge of something breathtaking.  We’re treading water on the safe side, when, suddenly, our Abba wants us to go on an adventure with him.  We have never gone under the boat before, nor do we want to. 

But we will not be alone.  Abba will swim with us—actually, he will swim for us, and we need only to hold on to him. 

God often calls us out of our comfort and certainty in order to embark on something bigger.  He calls us to a place where holding on to him is the only sensible option.  It’s dark and cold and we cannot see his face, but we feel the force of his Spirit pulling us through, verifying to our hearts that Abba is with us.  Then when we surface on the other side, we’ll never regret having followed him down, for we discovered that we were capable of so much more than we ever imagined, and so was he.

Todd, my friend, thank you for speaking to our hearts this weekend, for helping me to make sense of my own journey under the boat.

© 2010 by Samuel Kee

Stand Up

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This tears me apart, because I love you.

Steve was a Juvenile Offender in the Department of Corrections.  Rich was a pastor who led Bible studies for the kids in the Corrections facility.  One day he went in for his usual small group Bible study.  But before he could see any of the kids, the department head, Bob, pulled Rich into a staff meeting.  Bob told Rich that he could not talk with Steve today, since Steve was both suicidal and homicidal.  Steve was locked in his room and no one was allowed to see him.  Rich agreed and went and met with some of the other kids.  As Rich was being escorted out by Bob, right as he was about to leave the building, Rich heard God say to him, “You’ve got to go see Steve.”  Rich turned to Bob, the one who had forbid him to see Steve, and said, “I’ve got to go see Steve.”  Bob said that he wouldn’t argue with a man of God and let Rich go into Steve’s room. Bob locked the door behind Rich and there he stood, looking at Steve, who was facing the wall on the opposite side of the room.  Rich didn’t know what to say; he only knew that God wanted him there.  Rich saw a piece of paper on Steve’s bed and assumed it was a note from Steve’s girlfriend.  To break the ice, Rich picked it up and started to read it.  He found out that it was really a suicide note.  

Rich then asked Steve how he was going to do it.  Steve showed him a butcher knife that he stole from the kitchen.  Rich called out to Steve, saying, “Steve, that tears me apart, because I love you!”  Steve lunged toward Rich, dropping the knife as he came.  He grabbed hold of Rich and hugged him with all he had.  Through tears, Steve said, “I can’t remember when someone has told me that they loved me!”  And that moment was the beginning of great healing for Steve.[1]  

All because one man stood up for him.  One man said, “No!  I need to go tell Steve how much I love him!”  One man did not want to leave Steve alone, trapped in his room.  One man broke through, so to speak, and let Steve know that he was standing for him.     It makes all the difference in the world if someone stands up for you.   

We are Steve, locked in our conditions.  We lock others out and we lock God out.  We feel trapped and do not want to go on living.  But suddenly, Jesus appears though the doors are locked.  He stands up in front of us and holds out his scarred hand to us.  He cries out, “This tears me apart, because I love you!”    

(Excerpt taken from my book Hope Stands: Ten Reasons Why You Must Not Give Up.)  

[1] Adapted from The Youth Workers Guide to Helping Teenagers in Crisis by Rich Van Pelt and Jim Hancock (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2005), 66-68.

© 2010 by Samuel Kee