On the train or under the bus?

A friend asked me if I had seen the blockbuster, psychological thriller, The Girl on the Train.

“No,” I answered, “but I have been thrown under the bus.”

Actually, the movie is about a mysterious and troubled divorcée who has been betrayed. In fact, just about every character in the film is deceived in some way. So, I wasn’t too far off with my “thrown under the bus” quip.

I may not have seen the movie, but I know something about betrayal. Most all of us know about that---at least in some form or fashion. So, when I teased my friend that I had been “thrown under the bus,” I didn’t mean just recently. If you live long enough, you’ll get thrown under the bus at some point. It’s bound to happen.

A husband betrays his wife or a wife her husband; a “friend” double-crosses a friend by sharing confidential information that is damaging; the employee who is promised a promotion gets passed over by a less qualified, recent hire who happens to be a friend or relative of the boss.

The question is not whether or not we are going to get thrown under the bus, the question is, how do we get out from under it, begin repairing the damage, and move on?

Forgiveness is never easy, especially when your heart has been hurt, but apart from it, you are in effect dragging the bus around with you for life. It becomes an unbearable weight.

As inspirational author Shannon L. Alder has perceptively said, “If you spend your time hoping someone will suffer the consequences for what they did to your heart, then you're allowing them to hurt you a second time in your mind.”

While they have done something harmful to you, it does you no good to give them the power of occupying your mind with what they have done to you.

Release them to God. And in due time, He will right the wrongs.

In a way, you are getting back at them because you are not allowing them to impose their values, or lack of them, on yours. 

The Bible character, Joseph, knew the pain of betrayal. His own brothers sold him to Midianite slave traders. Joseph was eventually able to crawl out from under the bus and was even promoted to the highest ranking official under Pharaoh in Egypt. When Joseph could have retaliated against his brothers years after their despicable deed, he didn’t, indicating he had forgiven them: “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good” (Genesis 50:20).

In his misery, Joseph was able to find a larger purpose that empowered him to rise above his less than enviable situation and refuse the temptation to get even with others. He did his work well and moved forward.

The Tyndale Bible is the name given to the first English translation worked directly from Hebrew and Greek texts. But William Tyndale paid a high price for his commitment to get the Bible into the English people’s hands.

In 1535 a person pretending to be his friend betrayed Tyndale, accusing him of heretical beliefs. Subsequently, Tyndale was sentenced to death. What did Tyndale do? He refused to drown in either self-pity or anger. Instead, while in prison, he continued to work on his translation of the Bible. His last words, as he was executed by strangulation, were, “Lord, open the king of England’s eyes.” His dying prayer was answered two years after his death when Tyndale’s own edition of the Bible became officially approved for printing.

Like Joseph or William Tyndale, we cannot always change the circumstances brought about by someone’s deceptive actions. The one thing we have control over is our attitude. And that makes all the difference.

Whether you find yourself on the train or under the bus.

A defeated foe

Exiting the 9/11 Museum in New York City last week, my wife, daughter, and I didn’t say much. The museum, dramatically commemorating the events of the fateful day when terrorists took 2,997 lives, had a sobering effect on us. We lingered outside, traipsing along with the solemnity of people who have just left a funeral.

Gazing down into the two reflecting pools---each nearly an acre in size, situated where the Twin Towers once stood, edged by bronze panels in which the names of every person who died on September 11 is etched---I was nearly elbow to elbow with people from various nationalities, races, and religions. The roar of the waterfalls surrounding the pools had a soothing effect, enticing people to stop and stare and contemplate. “The terrorists’ intentions backfired.” I said to myself. “The spirit of those New Yorkers---the spirit of America---defeated the murderers that day.”

All kinds of people gather there to honor the heroic response to evil.

People come to this nation for all kinds of reasons, not all of them good. Some, like the 9/11 terrorists, come to kill and destroy. We are very aware of that and should be. But many more arrive looking for something plain and simple: freedom.

And a chance.

One of our drivers, (My daughter, now a 6-year resident of NYC, cautioned me, to no avail, about talking so much to taxi or Uber drivers) was from Egypt. His family is still there. He had come to America hoping to work and save enough money for them to join him. “It’s not just the finances. The trouble in getting them here is acquiring the visas,” he told me.

He had come to the United States for a reason. “Yes, I am a Christian,” he answered in response to my question about the cross hanging from his rear view mirror.  

Christians in Egypt---which according to an Open Doors 2016 Watch List for Christian persecution---ranks 22^nd among the most dangerous countries in which Christians live---can find it difficult to find and keep jobs. This was the case with our driver.

As he maneuvered through the traffic, I imagined what it would be like to lose my job and not be able to support my family simply because of my faith in Jesus Christ.

“Stay faithful,” I tried to encourage him as we left, and then I felt guilty because that was all I said.

Another driver, from Nepal, had a similar story. Persecution of Christians in that country has increased recently. Several months ago, perhaps because of a new law, 7 students were arrested for handing out Bible handbooks, according to International Christian Concern.

Like the Egyptian gentleman, our Nepalese driver had been persecuted for his faith. He searched for the words to explain: “The majority can make it difficult for you to find and keep work if you are a Christian.”

“I worship with a small group of Nepalese Christians here who meet together every Sunday,” he told me. “We strengthen each other, and sometimes I preach.”

When I inquired if they were a part of a particular denomination, he beamed, “No denomination; just Jesus.”

“Please keep this for yourself or give it to your congregation tomorrow,” I told him as I offered him extra money.

“God bless you,” he shouted as I walked away.

“God bless you,” I echoed back.

And every time we bless those who come to our shores, immigrants hoping to find hope, we remind the terrorists, those of the 9/11 variety as well as the ones who follow them, that they are already a defeated foe.

Hold the line

What about those unanswered prayers of yours? Where are they? Misplaced in a dusty file somewhere in some forgotten closet in heaven?

Sometimes it seems like it, I have to admit.

But God hasn’t forgotten the prayers of his children.

Sometimes the answer is an immediate “yes;” sometimes a prompt, “no;” and sometimes an indefinite, “maybe.”

It’s that third, last category, that brings doubt and grief to our impatient souls.

I’m reminded the little girl who was overheard praying, “Lord, Grandma still has the sciatica, Daddy still can’t find work, Momma still can’t lose weight, and Bubba hasn’t found a date to the prom yet. I’m tired of praying and not getting any results.”

We want results.

Preferably, now.

But God does not bow to our impatience, even when we pray with folded arms and tapping feet.

“In due season” the Bible says, “we will reap, if we don’t give up” (Galatians 6:9).

There’s sowing. We get that. And there’s reaping. Understood. But waiting for that due season can be unnerving and drag into what seems like an eternity.

And sometimes it is an eternity.

Literally.

I heard about a news journalist who visited the Western Wall, the Wailing Wall, in old Jerusalem. She talked to a man who had been praying there twice a day for 60 years. He would pray 40-45 minutes each time, morning and evening. The reporter asked the man, “What do you pray for?”

He said, “Lots of things, but mainly peace between Christians, Jews, and Muslims. I pray for all the hatred to stop and for our children to grow up in safety and shalom.”

“And how do you feel after praying 60 years for all those things?” the reporter questioned.

The old man said, “Like I’m talking to a wall.”

So, let’s face it, the wall, that is, and ask, “What do you do when you feel like you are talking to a wall?

What to do when like Habakkuk of old you cry, “O Lord, how long shall I cry for help, and you will not hear?”

The best I know is: keep on keeping on.

I read about a wealthy woman who phoned the manager of a concert hall and asked him if anyone had found a diamond pendant. She believed she had lost it and was frantically calling every place she had been the evening before, trying desperately to find it.

“I’ll go and look,” said the manager to the woman on the phone. “Please hold the line.”

After a quick search, he found it. Amazed that he was actually holding the valuable diamond in his hand, he rushed back to bring the good news to the lady. But she was no longer on the line. And she never called back. The expensive jewelry went unclaimed.

Now maybe the lady was so wealthy that the diamond didn’t really mean all that much to her, so she too quickly hung up the phone. And likewise, maybe God wants to answer our prayer, but we, like that lady, have so much of our own stuff in our hands that God’s answer isn’t really worth our wait.

But I did say she was frantically looking for the lost pendant, so maybe, despite her desperation, she simply doubted, disbelieving that it would ever be found, and so she too easily gave up. We do that, too, when we move on and work out our own plans for our lives, convinced that God doesn’t care and isn’t concerned with the likes of us.

Even though he couldn’t see it or feel it, Habakkuk came to trust that God had a plan: “Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation” (Habakkuk 3:17-18).

God will come through “in due season,” if we don’t give up.

His Son’s resurrection reminds us of that truth, for His resurrection was never in doubt from heaven’s side, only ours.

Between His death on Friday and resurrection on Sunday---that short period of earthly time---some people must have died, still waiting for the Promise, just as others had for hundreds of years.

Our “due season” may come only in the eternal.

The best, indeed, the only thing to do is hold the line.

And not give up.