Wednesday, September 22, 2010

EXCUSE ME, BUT WHAT PLANET IS THIS: Devotional by Lorilyn Roberts



Sometimes I wonder if I live on Mars and not Earth. When I look at the stock market that is up several hundred points today, knowing there is nothing to sustain it or a valid reason for its rise, I wonder who is buying. Is it the government? With businesses closing everywhere, deflation in personal income hitting almost everyone (call furloughs and forced days off from work what you want, but it’s lost income), people losing their jobs, and home foreclosure rates at an all-time high, it doesn’t make sense. And the government telling me that the recession is over makes me even edgier. Is this the new norm? Is this what the future holds for my children and me?

I no longer believe the statistics put out by the government. In fact, I am not even sure there is anybody I really trust in Washington. I feel violated, angry, and helpless to do anything that will make a difference.

And then there is always that one person who thinks everything is wonderful and President Obama is the best thing that happened to America. I suppose if I was receiving those government handouts I might agree. Sometimes when I am captioning, I think, if you mention one more “free” program I might qualify for, I will scream. Why do people feel like they need something or deserve something “free” from the government? What happened to hard work and sacrifice?

All those “free” programs are not free. They have cost somebody something. And I can tell you this; they didn’t come out of President Obama’s stock portfolio or the Washington bureaucrats’ retirement. They came out of hard-working people’s pockets like you and me that get up in the morning and go to work and earn a paycheck by sweat, blood, and sacrifice. And charity—I am all for charity and giving. But the government’s giving of my money is not charity. It’s theft.

I guess I have ranted on long enough. When I get depressed over the news that I caption every day, I remind myself that I have much to be thankful for. I need to put my hope in the only one that deserves my adoration and commitment—my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. It is for such a time as this that we are here, to be a witness to the world. To put our faith and trust in man is futile.

My heavenly Father also gently reminds me that those who are in power He put there. None of this craziness in Washington has caught Him by surprise, and His purposes, thoughts, and plans are higher than mine. “Be still and know that I am God,” is what He commands us to do.

As a young wife abandoned by her husband, who gladly took on the task of raising two orphans from Asia as a single mom, I take comfort that God will not leave me or forsake me. I can turn to Him to be my provider and my comforter no matter the tribulations that may beset our country; and I do believe dark days are ahead, maybe even a depression.

Our Christian testimony may be all some will ever see. We can be a light in the darkness, a beacon on a hill. We can speak a word of encouragement to those who are broken and pray for the lost. We can get up in the morning and thank God that He is unchanging. The sun still rises, our cats still purr when we scratch their ear, and the dogs still wag their tail when we give them an occasional bone. And today, at least, the sky wasn’t green. If I was a betting woman, I am sure it won’t be tomorrow either. God keeps order in His world. Some things don’t change.

I urge you to pray for our country, to pray for those in leadership, and to pray for God’s wisdom in the voting booth in the upcoming elections. God pours out His love for us with good things when we ask, and we need great discernment for the days ahead. Dangerous times abound and the enemy is working overtime. Our future as a nation may be in peril but the one who holds our future is sure and trustworthy. And for that, I am thankful.




Friday, September 17, 2010

EVOLUTION VERSUS CREATION, IS IT REALLY THAT COMPLICATED? A Christian Scribe’s Take on Current Events and Prophecy





Can we trust Jesus as our Savior and accept the evolutionist’s view that from a primordial mix of gases evolved the first living cell?

If we believe God gives us life after death, why is it a stretch to think God breathed life into us in the beginning? It seems illogical to me to imagine a concoction of gases spontaneously combusting into something called life. It seems even more incredulous to imagine molecules with enough intelligence to evolve into a higher form. If that were true, why don’t the “building blocks” continue to evolve into a super-human race?

Is not our belief that God “created man” in Genesis 1:27 as compelling as Romans 8:11: “And if the Spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead is living in you, He who raised Christ from the dead will also give life to your mortal bodies through his Spirit, who lives in you.”

And Job 38:2 states: “Who is this that darkens my counsel with words without knowledge?” As lofty as the evolutionist’s ideas, his words are without knowledge. Even with all the great discoveries since Aristotle and the advancements in genetics, scientists do not have the ability to create DNA. John 1:1 adds, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Not only is matter and energy needed to create life, but knowledge is essential.

Within every living creature, even in a tiny one-celled organism, the code of life is hidden. It is so intricately complicated that we cannot replicate it. Nature possesses the mystery of life, but it was given to it by the Creator.

Just as God will bless us (or damn us) with eternal life after we die, God gives us life here. Can a person accept Christ as his personal Savior and believe he is evolved from a lower life form? The concept seems contradictory and would ridicule God’s creation story in Genesis.

I envision the theory of evolution going the way of the dinosaurs. Science evolves and knowledge increases, but the Bible is unchanging. God’s Word is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. And I take comfort in the fact that some things don’t change. My beliefs are embedded in the cornerstone of salvation and not in the whims of science. Science doesn’t have the answers to the creation story and is unable to prove anything—except to disprove its own inconsistencies.

Friday, September 10, 2010

CONFESSIONS OF A CHRISTIAN, HOMESCHOOLING MOM: Devotional by Lorilyn Roberts




Leaves floating in the pool always signal the end of summer for me and the beginning of autumn. With fall comes my assignment of homeschooling Joy. While some days it’s a pleasure and other days a chore, I recently thought about curriculum in an unusual way. It reminded me of something funny years ago when I homeschooled Manisha.

In the fourth grade, she was given an assignment to set up a study schedule for the week—what subjects and how much time she should devote to each one. I chuckle as I remember her daily homeschooling curriculum: Reading, five minutes; English, five minutes; science, five minutes; history, three minutes; math, thirty seconds; lunch, one hour; and recess, the rest of the day. While that may have seemed like a great curriculum to Manisha at ten, I would hate to imagine where she would be today in her second year of college if I had allowed her to “go her own way.”

Last spring over Memorial Day weekend, Joy and I went to the Florida Homeschooling Convention in Orlando. It was a time of refreshment as I reflected on what we had accomplished over the past year and what I hoped to do for this next year. Upon arriving Joy and I quickly ate and hurried down to the exhibit hall, where I spent hours pouring over the books, curriculum, games, and “ideas” on display. Most of the venders return every year and there are always new ones to check out. This annual tradition encourages me to keep on keeping on for another year until God shows me it’s time to enroll Joy in traditional school. We just take homeschooling one year at a time.

Each year I assess Joy’s strengths and weaknesses and which curriculum (or non-curriculum) would work best for the following year. I have not used with Joy the same materials that I used for Manisha. Each of my daughters is unique, and as a homeschooling mom, it’s been a joy to tailor the curriculum to meet each of their specific needs. I have to admit, I have made mistakes. A couple of times I tried math programs which caused far too many tears. It required the unexpected expense and time of switching to something else. But I have never doubted God’s calling to homeschool, even as a single parent. I have been brought to my knees at times by the sheer burden and feeling of inadequacy. I could not do it without the Lord’s help.

But my heart’s desire to give my daughters the best that I can goes a long way in God’s provision. He makes up for what I lack. As I recall what Manisha wanted for a curriculum many years ago, in my finite wisdom, of course, I knew one minute of math a day would not prepare her for Algebra, and twenty-five minutes of English a week would not be sufficient to write a ten-page term paper on International Relations as a sophomore in college. We can chuckle at the absurdity, laughing because we know ourselves. Are we really any different?

In the broader context of life, reflecting on God’s great plan for each of us, do I know what His perfect curriculum is for me? Do I know what I need in His economy to become the person He created me to be? If God way back at the beginning of time had asked me to design my own curriculum, what would I have asked for? The human side of me would have said, “God, how about a little place on the beach with a pool, lots of books, and a Starbucks latte twice a day. I don’t want to cook, wash clothes, worry about car repairs, computers that crash, or anyone I love getting sick. In fact, give me a life where I never have to worry about anything.”

I know it’s not very “spiritual,” but if the truth be told, I don’t think anyone would ask for heartache. After all, we don’t have the mind of God. Our little thoughts are not like His. We long selfishly for a fulfilling life, to have our needs met, and to be accepted by others. The Bible is full of all the perils that accompany that mindset, beginning with Adam and Eve.

One of the courses in my life curriculum (which I never would have asked for) was working for twenty years as a court reporter. I never liked court reporting—the adversarial nature of it, the long, unpredictable hours, the fact that most of what I wrote was meaningless in God’s great scheme (who cares that someone found a cricket in a can of beans). Plus it was something I never wanted to do but circumstances willed it.

Sometimes life takes away our freedom to choose. Things happen. In those moments of doubting God’s best for us, we should cast our eyes on Jesus, who did the will of His Father and not His own. I “begrudged” those years until very recently, feeling like much of my working life was wasted. How many books could I have written during that time? I can’t say I was filled with discontent, but certainly upon occasion I have questioned, why didn’t God allow me to pursue writing at a much younger age? Why did “this” have to happen? You can fill in the blank with your own “this” and ask your own “why.” I have said to myself more than once, things would have been so much better if I had chosen “this” but couldn’t.

What better choices could there be than what my heavenly Father chose for me? Do I not trust Him completely? Does He not know the best curriculum to mold me into His image? Cannot my sorrows and loss be counted as gain for the kingdom of heaven?

Jesus tells us in John 15:7, “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you.” Jesus gave this command to His disciples on the eve of His crucifixion. Little did His followers know what was about to happen. But Jesus knew if His words “abided” within their hearts, it would be sufficient to bring them through the dark days that lay ahead.

God has given us everything we need to equip us for His heavenly kingdom. Our curriculum has been chosen by the King of the universe. He molded each one of us from clay. He breathed life into us. He gifts us with talents and blesses us with hope and so much more than we deserve. He loved us so much He sent His only Son to die for us. No doubt His curriculum is vastly different from and better for my soul than anything I could possibly envision.

When I took my novel course in my Masters studies, I learned that one of the greatest novelists of all time, Charles Dickens, began his career as a court reporter. So I am in great company. Who knows how God will use those years down the road. After all, He is the great designer, craftsman, artist, and author.

God knows exactly what curriculum we all need to complete a doctorate in life and graduate Summa Cum Laude. And for each one of us, God lovingly designs the classes. I think a doctorate would fittingly describe the many difficult courses we must take to become everything He longs for us to be. And it will probably require—at least for me—more than thirty seconds of suffering, two minutes of patience, five minutes of sacrifice, and five minutes of prayer.

If we can cease our striving, our complaining, and slow down, God might just exempt us from a life class we would rather not take. “Godliness with contentment is great gain,” according to I Timothy 6:6; and that Starbucks latte, well, I do enjoy one upon occasion. Now, by God’s grace, I just need a teaspoon of patience and a tablespoon of love to enjoy another successful year of homeschooling.

Thursday, August 26, 2010

REFLECTIONS ON OUR APPEARANCE ON ANIMAL PLANET



Having never been on television, it was a unique experience to see myself and my family on the screen. I looked way too old on high-definition TV (do I look that way in person?) At least the analog televisions didn’t show every wrinkle. Now I know why people spend so much time on make-up. Yeah, I know, vanity, vanity! They should have sent one of those miracle workers along with the cameramen and interviewers. I heard comments from my kids like, "That doesn't look like you." What is that supposed to mean?

There were also some scenes needed that weren't shot in Gainesville. I did a double-take when another woman appeared on the screen impersonating me. Where did she come from? And a lot of events were omitted for the sake of brevity. Really, I am not that paranoid about headaches—except my father and aunt died of a brain tumor. If you know that bit of information, my initial concern about Manisha’s head hurting makes more sense.

But I am thankful for the opportunity that Animal Planet gave my family to share the story and disseminate the information about the pork tapeworm in the brain. It is the most common parasitic infection of the nervous system in the developing world. Six percent of the population in Asia, Africa, and South America are infected. More knowledge about this condition will help doctors and the public to be aware of and prevent this sometimes fatal malady.

I also appreciate the time and effort of all those who were involved in Manisha's care, the filming of the show, and who helped to bless us with a successful outcome. I want to thank the family with the eight-year-old adopted daughter from Nepal who played Manisha in the reenactments. She was a real trooper. I want to thank Joy for allowing us to use her bedroom for Manisha's interview. And lastly, I want to thank Manisha for being willing to share her story on national television. Not every teenager has the guts to do that!

This whole experience has touched each of us in significant ways. Hopefully, you have vicariously shared in this journey on “Monsters Inside Me” and in my book Children of Dreams. May God receive the glory for His healing touch on Manisha.

If you want to read the full story, as they say, usually the book is better than the movie, please check out my book Children of Dreams, available at Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, and your local bookstores. I am also available for interviews and speaking engagements within the Gainesville area (and maybe outside the area if I have the time).

If you missed the airing yesterday, “Shape Shifters” will be shown again on Animal Planet on August 31st at 8pm and 11pm. When it’s available on the Discovery website, I will post a link to the episode here.

My thought for the day: Life is too short–may we focus on the moment since that’s all we have and give it our best. No complaining allowed. Try it. And then thank God He gave you one more day. Life is a gift—share it.


Monday, August 9, 2010

MANY LESSONS FOR A LIFE WORTH LIVING: Devotional by Lorilyn Roberts








Every summer we have a nesting pair of birds set up residence in the birdhouse in our backyard. For many years, it was a purple martin house, though purple martins never used it. Great crested flycatchers found it and returned year after year. We knew they had arrived when we heard them in the trees. If they thought I was watching, they would fly away. Toward the end of the summer when the babies had fledged, the squirrels would move in and stay. When I took it down I found one large hole in the middle. The squirrels had remodeled the interior and the flycatchers had enjoyed a mansion for a home. 

I replaced it with a bluebird house in early spring last year. I wasn’t sure if we would attract any bluebirds. When I saw a scout checking it out a few weeks later, I thought we might get lucky. After all, the birdhouse is located on prime real estate, what I would consider Park Place on a Monopoly board. It has a bird’s eye view of our pool; the canopy of honeysuckles, red tips, cassia, and water oak; and a small flower garden of shrimp plants, milkweed, pentas, and philodendrons.

This spring, I took a peek inside the house. I knew I should buy a new one. The base it rested on was warped and it was only secured by a plastic bag tie, but I was busy and soon forgot about it.

The bluebirds arrived and began rebuilding their nest. I watched as they carried leaves, moss, and twigs into the hole. A few weeks later, the faint sounds of babies could be heard. I was excited once again to watch the back and forth ritual of the parents feeding them. However, when a few days passed and I didn't hear or see them, I became concerned. Did a predator get to them? I looked around the front yard to make sure I didn't see a dead bluebird.

I gave up the search when I saw the mother and father working on the nest again. They appeared to be undertaking a rebuilding project. Something had gone awry and they had started over.

Several days later I went out for my daily swim. When I glanced at the wooden house, I was greeted by two beady eyes staring out of the dark hole. They were much too big to be a bluebird’s. Surprised, I examined the front of it and noticed the hole had been enlarged. It was big enough for one determined squirrel to squeeze into, though it was a tight fit. She was scrunched down as she stared out. She had usurped the bluebirds and now considered it her home.

It would have been comical if I had not seen the birds bringing in nesting material the day before. But what could I do? I got in the pool distracted and concerned. Was the squirrel sitting on the eggs, or worse, smothering the babies?

After a while, I watched the male and female fly over to their nest. At the last minute, they halted their approach in midair. They backed up and flew over to a tree. It appeared they had no idea there was a squirrel inside their quarters. I was upset because the squirrel had the entire canopy in which to build her house.

I climbed out of the pool, grabbed the pole that I used for skimming the water, and angled it up to the birdhouse. The squirrel jumped out like she had been stung by a hornet. Wild eyes flashed as she scrambled past me, jumped from the fence into the thicket, and scurried off faster than a startled fish.

My job accomplished, I dipped back into the pool and swam to the far end. I hoped to see the bluebirds reclaim their territory, but they didn’t return. Perhaps they were waiting for me to leave. It was getting dark anyway, so I got out, dried off, and went back inside to change.

Then I heard Joy’s frantic scream, "Mamma, the bluebird house fell over."

“What?"

I ran out of the backdoor. The box was partially burst open lying on the ground. The squirrel broke the plastic tie when he scrambled out of the tiny hole. Or maybe the birds had returned and knocked it to the ground. The house was destroyed beyond repair. Some nesting material had fallen out of the sides where the wooden boards had separated. I peered through the hole searching for baby birds or eggs, but to my dismay, instead, there were two baby squirrels inside. I did a double-take because I expected to see baby birds. They were very small with no hair and couldn't have been more than a few days old.

Would the mother return? How could the squirrel have been using the house at the same time? The babies didn't appear to be hurt. At least they were moving around a little, as much as baby squirrels with their eyes closed can.

The nesting debris had cushioned the fall, though I wondered how so much “stuff” could fit into such a small space. We needed to figure out how to put the birdhouse back on the post. The base of it had rotted away and there was nothing to which we could mount it. I managed to force the sides of the box back together.

I set the house on the table by the pool and went out to the garage to find something we could use. Joy later told me she saw the mother squirrel return and leave. That was a good sign, I hoped, that she would come back. I found a roll of sticky blue tape that we had used to cover the windows during the last hurricane season. We could use a screw to latch it on the post and run the tape around the sides and underneath it.

Joy and I climbed on top of the wooden fence and took turns pulling off tape and wrapping it like a band-aid. When we finished it was nighttime and we went back inside to watch.

A bluebird arrived immediately, but he refused to go in. He just sat outside the opening. We got tired of watching the perched bird, and he was in the shadows anyway. I went to bed thinking about baby squirrels, feeling guilty for my part in the disaster. I wondered what I would do if the mother did not return.

The next day I kept an eye out for her, but the birdhouse just baked in the sun with no squirrel to be seen. By late afternoon I had to do something. I took Joy to the gym and went to visit a friend who takes care of orphaned animals.

I asked her if she would take them if I retrieved them. She reassured me she would. I ran home, climbed up on the railing once again, and brought the box down. I set it on the table and looked inside, but to my dismay, it was empty.

My friend said it was possible the mother might have returned that night or early in the morning. She explained that squirrels make several nests, so if one nest is overrun by ants or she is scared off, she has another one to which she can carry her babies.

I still felt sorry for the birds. I went to the store and bought a brand new bluebird house—one that a determined squirrel couldn't gnaw through. My neighbor come over later that evening and anchored it so it couldn't get knocked over again. My biggest regret was that I didn’t do it sooner.

Sometimes God paints pictures of life lessons that can have many meanings. If I was a bluebird, I would have doubted my ability to raise a family. Would I have the strength to try a third time?

If I was a squirrel, I would have learned it doesn’t pay to steal someone else’s home. I needed to build my own.

But God had a different message for me—things may not always be as they appear. While I was expecting bluebirds, God delivered squirrels. How many times have I been so sure of myself only to find out later I was wrong? And maybe, just maybe, God wanted me to dive into the pool, enjoy a swim, and let Him take care of the animals.