Eyes of the Heart, The: Seeing God's Hand in the Everyday Moments of Life

by Tracie Peterson

  15

  Not Responsible for Damage

  Recently I’ve been assaulted by a number of “not responsible for damage” signs. They’re posted at my grocery store: “Not responsible for damage done by grocery carts.” They’re hanging at the playground: “Not responsible for injuries caused while playing on equipment.” I’ve even found them at the car wash, where the management proclaims: “Not liable for damage done to vehicle.”

  We are a people who shirk from the responsibility of accepting blame. We learn it early on. For instance, one time my daughters decided we needed a fire in the fireplace. The only problem was, we didn’t have a fireplace. The solution? Stuff paper in the furnace and see if the pilot light could create a blaze.

  “Who’s responsible for this?” we asked.

  “Not me,” they cried in unison.

  Even the early stories in the Bible deal with shirking responsibility. Eve blames the serpent, Adam blames Eve, and then he indirectly blames God: “The woman you gave me . . .” You can just hear the implication of his heart: “If you hadn’t saddled me with this woman, I wouldn’t be in this fix right now.”

  Every day we hear people denying responsibility. We hear it come out of the mouths of murderers: “I didn’t know what I was doing. . . . I wasn’t thinking right.” We hear it from our politicians when things go amiss in the government: “This is the fault of [the other political party].” We see it when children run amuck and damage property and each other. The schools blame the parents; the parents blame society; and society turns its back and blames the government for tying its hands or for being too liberal with the interpretation of the Constitution.

  We have a responsibility phobia.

  And why not? Accepting responsibility means someone might hold us accountable, and if we can escape that, we are a much happier people. At least we think we are.

  My mother taught me something when I was very young—a philosophy of life, if you will. I’ve passed this philosophy down to my children, although I’m not sure they’ve entirely bought into it. My mother said, “Always accept responsibility for the things you do, bad or good. When you make a mistake or create a problem, be the first one to acknowledge it. That way when something goes wrong and they come to you and it isn’t your fault, they’ll be more inclined to believe you. After all, they’ll remember you always admitted to your mistakes in the past.”

  And it generally works. It saved me in sticky situations more than once. Holding myself accountable to those around me gave me liberty. Accepting responsibility for the things that were truly my responsibility set me free.

  Most people don’t believe that. They look at responsibility as shackles binding their feet and hands. The man who fathers a child out of wedlock sees accepting responsibility as taking on more than he bargained for. He might end up with a wife and a baby to take care of. The woman who finds herself pregnant might have to face public humiliation and ultimate responsibility for a baby she hadn’t planned on. Both are weighed down by accepting responsibility for their actions and choices, when, in fact, they could have enjoyed liberty had they accepted responsibility several paces back and held each other accountable to remain pure. And even facing up to the event of an unplanned, out-of-wedlock pregnancy can eventually merit liberty as well. We do a lot of growing up and gaining of wisdom in accepting responsibility. And with wisdom comes liberty.

  How about it? Do you know someone who might as well be wearing one of those signs? NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR DAMAGE . . . You can smile here. I know you understand. I have several faces that come to mind. Sadly enough, I have to include my own. There have been times when I’ve not wanted to be accountable, and I might as well have declared to the world that I was not responsible for the damage I caused.

  The blame game is so very convenient. As I mentioned, we’re taught it from a very early age. It’s second nature, or better yet, first nature. Pass the buck, let somebody else take the fall, let someone else pay the price.

  Guess what? Someone else did.

  I imagine Jesus standing before the Father in love and compassion. “They’re weak,” He might say of us on earth. “Sin has weighed them down. Why not let me take that weight? I’ll be responsible for their damage.”

  On the cross, Jesus might as well have worn a sign that read, RESPONSIBLE FOR IT ALL.

  “That’s right. I did it. Right here—me. If you must blame someone, pin it here to this cross.” I can see His loving eyes so full of pain, His heart so full of love. He didn’t deserve to be held accountable or responsible for our sins, but He knew we could never bear it alone. He knew if left to our own devices, we would be hopelessly awash in the blame game and the guilt and the bondage of our frail humanity.

  Even today Jesus reaches out His arms in an offering of love. “Accept me as Savior,” He pleads, “and I will make you right before God the Father. I’ll take the responsibility; I’ll bear the sins of the world.”

  It doesn’t mean we’re off the hook, that we don’t have any responsibility in this situation. Because we do. We have to yield to Him. To accept His way of doing things. To accept Him.

  What are you shirking today? What damage are you refusing responsibility for? Maybe you spoke harsh words in anger, injuring and inflicting pain in verbal firefights, leaving a battlefield of wounded in your wake. It could be you caused division among friends or family. Perhaps you even lied to make yourself look better, all the while damaging the reputation of someone else.

  NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR DAMAGE? That’s a lie. We are responsible. We will all give an account to our Father in heaven, just as the Bible says. Frankly, I know my own weaknesses, and I’d rather stand with Jesus as my advocate than without Him. How about you? We aren’t without responsibility, but we have one who will go before us. We have a Savior and counselor and intercessor in Jesus Christ. Don’t let His love slip by you. Accept responsibility. Accept Him.

  16

  Be Prepared

  The old adage from my scouting days was Be prepared. This motto has followed me from grade school into adulthood, from dating to marriage, from childbirth to the death of loved ones. Had I been in charge of Patton’s push across France, he would never have run out of gasoline. If I had been in charge of the Titanic, there would have been plenty of lifeboats for everyone and then some. When I plan family get-togethers, there is always enough food to feed a small army, and when I travel, the kitchen sink goes in before anything else. Being prepared has at times become a bit obsessive with me, but then again, it’s a biblical principle. So why not obsess on something that comes right out of the Word?

  Jesus tells his disciples in Matthew 24:42–44, “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come. But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.”

  Jesus was saying, “Be prepared.” It’s a pretty important statement. Have you given it any thought?

  Having lived in Kansas most of my life, we had a springtime routine that involved checking batteries in flashlights and the weather radio, all while keeping an eye to the sky. Springtime in Kansas is tornado season, and we take our tornadoes very seriously.

  From my first memory of this springtime ritual, I knew that the occasion merited much attention and concentration. My mother gave us all a job to do in order to prepare for the season. I usually had the job of sweeping out the basement. Often this floor was nothing more than packed dirt—but let me tell you, it was the best-swept dirt floor in Kansas. Sometimes I had the job of making sure there were pillows or blankets available for those late night storms that might see us spending the evening in the basement.

  I remember my mother having my sister and me prepare our “important” things. This was to be a little bag of mementos, do-dads that meant more to us than the run-of-the-mill posse
ssion. She didn’t do this to teach us to care overly about our things, but rather to get our minds focused on something other than the weather. It was a form of preparation that gave us freedom when the storm actually descended upon us. It allowed us to simply make a run for the basement with our little bag in hand. It gave us a tiny bit of control over the impending doom. Preparation invested us in the outcome.

  Kansas tornadoes, for those of you who are unfamiliar, range all up and down the Fujita Scale. The Fujita Scale is used to rate the intensity of a tornado by examining the damage caused after the tornado has passed over a man-made structure.

  F1 is a small tornado, while F5s are those devastating fist-of-God kind of storms that usually leave entire cities devastated in their wake. F5s scourge pavement off highways and rip houses off foundations and leave kindling in their place. You don’t want to scoff at any tornado, but you especially don’t want to take an F5 for granted.

  The weather bureau is pretty good at giving us a little warning. In Kansas, our worst storms generally came in the late afternoon or early evening. So when the elements were right, the weather bureau might put us in a tornado watch in the early afternoon. It’s a declaration of preparation. It’s a call to go on alert—to be watchful. To stand ready.

  Now, some folks never concern themselves with these watches. They simply go about their business as usual. You’ve probably seen them. They’re usually the ones on the television news telling their story of being lifted up into the tornado while driving down the interstate. They almost always end their testimony with the words “I had no idea it was even coming.”

  They weren’t prepared. But they could have been. The alert had been given, and while there was no way to know whether the storm would form and come on that day or that particular hour, they were warned to be ready.

  Jesus tells us to be ready—to keep watch for His return. We don’t know when He will come; we have no specific date to put on our calendar. In fact, Jesus tells us He’ll come at an hour we don’t expect Him.

  But what’s important to know and remember is that He is coming. We’ve been warned. The alert has gone out. Jesus is coming back. Will you be ready?

  In Matthew 25, Jesus tells the parable of the wise and the foolish virgins. These women are waiting for their bridegroom to show up. They all have their lamps, but only the wise ones thought to prepare just in case the night got long. When the cry is given that the bridegroom is on his way, the foolish virgins realize they have very little oil left. They aren’t prepared. And because they aren’t prepared, they miss out.

  While the foolish virgins go off to buy oil for their lamps, the bridegroom comes and takes the wise virgins in to the wedding banquet. By the time the foolish virgins get back with their oil, the door has been shut to them. The bridegroom rejects them.

  Jesus is the bridegroom, and we, like it or not, are the foolish and the wise brides-to-be. Some of us are ready for our groom to come and take us to the wedding banquet. But others aren’t. Some of you out there fear the upcoming feast. You know you aren’t ready. You know your lamp is running low on oil. You didn’t plan to be remiss. You didn’t plan to ignore the Holy Spirit’s prompting. But . . .

  Maybe you stand ready with a full lamp and an industrial-size barrel of oil alongside you, but you’ve never bothered to tell your sister or your friends that they need oil too. Maybe they don’t know the bridegroom is coming back for them. They can’t be prepared if they don’t know what’s required.

  At the end of the parable of the virgins, Jesus again says, “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.” He’s talking about His return. He’s talking about coming back for His bride—the church. We don’t know when that will be, but we can rest assured that the day is coming.

  Be prepared!

  How? First, see to your own lamp. Set your heart on God and seek Him for the oil of life. Search the Scriptures for a refilling of your lamp’s reservoir. Seek the Holy Spirit to kindle the flame that will light your way. If your own lamp isn’t in order, you can’t help anyone else with their lamp.

  When your heart is right before God, and your life is fixed on seeking His will, then help your sister with her lamp. Get together to pray and encourage one another. Have lunch with an unsaved friend and let the Holy Spirit illuminate the setting. Pray fervently for those who choose darkness, and remember God is in the business of lighting dark paths. Start a Bible study. Start a neighborhood teatime and invite your neighbors to hear the Good News. And if the adults aren’t interested, shine the light of Jesus to their children when they come over to play with your kids.

  Preparation makes the road much easier to travel. Be prepared! Jesus is coming back. There’s no question about that. It’s just a matter of time. Will you be ready?

  17

  See What I’m Saying

  When our daughter Julie was just five or six, she came home from school babbling in her excited way about her day. My husband, already busy at the table with one of his projects, listened to her talk while he worked. He asked the right questions and listened as best he could while continuing with the tasks he had in hand. He thought he was doing a really good job, until our daughter took his face in her hands and turned him toward herself.

  “Daddy, you can’t see what I’m saying.”

  My husband had to smile at her words and put down what he was doing. Sometimes we need to see what someone is saying.

  Jesus knew this. I believe that’s why He told parables. The people needed the picture in order to “see what He was saying.” People today are no different. Oftentimes the world is full of words and noises, and no one ever really understands or hears the meaning of those sounds.

  I don’t think it’s just a matter of people not listening. I think it has more to do with the sound of their own pain and worry being louder than the decibels of the information coming to them. The roaring of their own hurt blocks out the words of comfort and truth—words they most definitely need to hear.

  Take, for instance, a woman I know. She labored long and hard to be a good wife and mother. She gave of herself in such an unselfish way that people actually stood by in amazement. People other than the members of her own family, that is. As she began to break down and wear out, as her own needs could no longer be put off, she asked her loved ones for help. But no one heard.

  My friend tried to keep things moving forward. She tried to continue being a good wife and mother. She tried to see to it that the laundry was done and the house picked up. She worked her hardest to see that the kids had all they needed and most of what they wanted, and still no one heard her cries for help. No one heard her pleading for some affection, some warmth, some acceptance of who she was rather than what she did. Not one member of her family attempted to meet her needs. Her kids were too busy, and her husband, well, he simply didn’t have a clue.

  No one could see what she was saying. No one, that is, until a stranger came into the picture. He listened. He cared. He made my friend feel special.

  Sadly, the worst happened. My friend clung to this new hope and found herself in the middle of an affair. Not long after that her marriage fell apart; her kids rejected her, and most of her friends and family turned away from her in disgust and anger. She had cried out for help, for love and understanding, and no one could see what she was saying. The words were obscured because the focus was on their own needs rather than on hers.

  All she needed was for someone to see what she was saying. She needed to have a reason to hope—to believe that someone loved her as much as she loved them. Have you ever felt that way? Have you ever stood in the middle of an auditorium full of people and just wished, prayed, that someone would understand? Was there ever a moment in time when you reached out, threw a party in your own honor, so to speak—and nobody came?

  The loneliest feeling in the world is to be desperately vulnerable, open and honest about your need, and still no one extends a comforting hand. No one will go the distance with
you.

  Jesus knew that feeling. He went to the Garden to pray before his crucifixion. He took some good friends with Him. Peter and James and John. He said to them, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me” (Matthew 26:38).

  Has your soul been overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death? Mine has. I find this verse so very precious. Our Savior knows what it is to be overwhelmed with grief. He knows just how bad bad can be. And, because Jesus experienced this deep abiding pain, He can see what we’re saying when we pray in our pain.

  I tried my best to help my friend when her sorrow overwhelmed her. I tried to pray with her—to listen to her—to love her. It was something given from the heart, but it wasn’t enough. The people she really needed got up and walked away.

  But the Savior she needed, didn’t.

  In her desperation, my friend reached out to Jesus, and He came to keep watch with her. He didn’t demand she perform for Him. He didn’t require she first prove her worth. He came when she had nothing left to offer. He came when she was sorrowed to the point of death—lost in her sin and misery.

  And Jesus will come to you as well. He will walk the path with you. He will bear your sorrows and nurse your wounds. Jesus will see what you are saying, and better yet, He will see it with the eyes of the heart. The eyes of Jesus’ heart are fixed on the needs of His loved ones. He longs to be there for you—He longs for you to come to Him.

  Jesus loves you.

  Jesus honestly and truly loves you. And His love can see the details the world fails to see. His love will heal the pain that no one else knows or understands. He doesn’t care where you’ve been or what you’ve done—He only asks that you come home. Like the father of the prodigal, it only matters that you come.

  What are you waiting for?

  18

  The Fleshly Wrestling Association