Sadly, as someone who lives with the pain of a totally fractured family, this post on Facebook by Lisa Bevere, pastor with her husband, John, of a great church in Colorado, and author, as is John, of many excellent books, touches something that is so essential. There are probably very few families that never have a cross word between them: many will have major issues, whatever the cause. But there is ALWAYS a way, a place, or reconciliation: and the Grace of God is ALWAYS enough.

One of my favourite secular songs is ‘The Living Years’, by Mike and the Mechanics. It’s also one of the saddest. If you don’t know it, it’s here, from YouTube: the words are at the end of the blog.

• https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P1eG6tGXRxQ

I’m so unbelieveably grateful that God’s Grace is there for me in every circumstance. And for my family. This blog isn’t the ‘forum’ to go into the details of what, why, where, and what happened: all I know is that for the last 14-15 years, I don’t know what I’d have done without the grace of God. I also know that the same grace is available for forgiveness, reconciliarion, and restoration. There’s nothing too big that can’t be forgiven, because of Jesus: if there was, none of us would have any hope – in life, and after life.

Maybe you’re in a similar position to me: maybe you know people in a fractured, dysfunctional situation. Two weeks ago, I had the absolute joy of staying with some friends, the husband in an almost identical situation as me. His children chose, 15 years ago, to disown him (if you met him, you’d know that it was an ‘enemy’ thing: he’s a delightful man, with a lovely heart). He’s not seen them, heard from them, or ever met his grandchildren. I’m not in quite such a tragic situation – I’ve met my grandchildren, but not seen them since Thanksgiving, 2008. The enemy compounded that ‘split’ with the unjust situation I ended up in with the USA, where I was ‘returned’ – and, after a five-year (massively expensive – I’m still paying it off!) ‘fight’ with US Immigration, found that the reason I was refused entry in May 2009, was absolutely nothing at all to do with me. It was because I’d been offered a job with a church (Foreeign Mission Director), the problem was with the American ‘end’ of that situation… I was the victim of other people’s issues. But I’ve not seen, or heard from, my sons in 14 years or more, and my daughter for 5 years.  I’m not telling you this as a ‘sob’ story: please believe that! It is, for me, a testimony of the astonishing grace of God, that has kept me, held me, and enabled to ‘live’ an abundant life, even in the middle of sadness and tragedy.

Some years ago, I met a wonderful couple, Alejandro and Laura, Pastors of a beautiful church in Argentina. My first ‘encounter’ with them came when I heard Laura tell her testimony. Her grace, and the love of God in her and shining out through her, impacted my life more than I could ever say, and the grace of God that poured out through her, is what has kept me over the last 14 years. When Laura was very young, her father raped her. Continually. And her brothers joined in. In fact, if I remember well, all her male relatives were given ‘access’ to her, and all male friends of her father. She said that she stopped counting at 1,000 rapes. She was so badly damaged, physically as well as emotionally, she was told that she’d never be able to have children. She was ‘repaired’ as best as the doctors could manage.

Then she met, and fell in love with, Ale. A lovely, lovely man. They prayed, asked God for a miracle. They married. And, miraculously, by the time I met them, they had two lovely children. Much to my delight, I was invited to preach at their church a few times. It was in a poor, dangerous area of their city, but it is one of the loveliest churches I’ve ever been privileged to speak in. The Presence of God was amazing: gold dust fell from nowhere, onto the hands and clothes of the people (they couldn’t even afford spray glitter, let alone real gold!), oil poured from the pores of some people’s hands. I’d been sceptical about the gold dust, maybe even cynical. Then, in Ale and Laura’s church, I experienced it.

Why am I telling you this? Well, one occasion I was preaching there – I had a couple of friends from England with me – the ministry time after the evening meeting was amazing. It was way gone midnight when it finished, and then they wanted to feed us. We needed transport back to where we were staying, but it was too dangerous an area to risk getting a taxi. A man from the church had a car, and as we put stuff in the boot/trunk, I was stood next to him, with Laura. ‘Remember my testimony?’ she asked. Only too well. ‘About my dad?’. Yes, unbelievable. ‘This is my dad’ she said, nodding towards the car driver. Forgiven, saved, and a member of his daughter’s church, a girl he’d destroyed for 20 years or so. The grace of God….the love of God….the forgiveness of God, in action: and a family was restored.

There’s nothing too big that the grace and the love of God cannot restore.
DON’T MAKE THE SAME MISTAKE I DID
BY LISA BEVERE

This past Sunday was the one year anniversary of my mother’s home going. She left us five days before her eighty-first birthday. Over the past year, I can’t even count the number of times I went to call her. The trigger might be as simple as the melody of her favorite Christmas song or when I see something I know she would like. Then just as quickly, I remember she is gone.

To say that my mother and I had relational challenges might be an understatement of grand proportions. As far back as I can remember there had been an undercurrent of tension between us. Over the last ten years, I started to avoid calling her because calls would often escalate into fights. And yet even now I am hard pressed to remember the harsh words that passed between us.

What I do remember are the words I didn’t say.

I wish I’d been more intentional to show and tell her I loved her. When it came to expressing love, my mother and I spoke languages as different as Italian and English. Sadly, I refused to become bilingual until much too late. Yes, in the last month of her life I said all the things I wished I had. I told her I loved her. I asked her to forgive me for any and every grievance, large or small. As I held onto her frail frame, tethered to the hospital bed by tubes and wires, she leaned into my ear and graciously whispered my reprieve. That’s when the levee broke. We both cried, overwhelmed by the knowledge we had so little time to live this love out this side of eternity. Less than a month later she was gone.

I’m glad I have the promise of eternity—it softened the blow of this reality. But even so, regret can be a hard taskmaster. I’ve often responded to its accusations and remorse by either making excuses or casting blame. But over the years I’ve learned to handle it with a different approach: owning my mistakes. Though at first, it proves the more painful option, I can promise you it saves so much unnecessary hurt in the long run.

The truth is I should have loved my mother better and sooner. I was in the stronger position to love her well and I didn’t. While I can’t change the past, I am left with a clear choice going forward. I can feel bad and the sadness will stay with me or I can flip my mistakes into lessons for others. You see, once you own up to a mistake, it no longer owns you. The psalmist David discovered this long ago. Psalm 51 reveals the process of how to move from regret to redemption.

Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being, and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart…Then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will return to you. (Psalms 51:6,13 ESV)
When we bury our regrets, we rob others of the chance to learn from them. It is in repenting and offering our stories to those around us that we find something beautiful springs from our past failures. Please allow my mistakes to be your instructor and love well while you can. Be kind while it is in your power. Be generous in word and deed. Look beyond the actions and search for the heart of the matter. This Christmas, have the hard talks. Reconcile. Own your part even if they refuse to own theirs. You will never regret kind words, warmth, or acts of generosity—but you will regret the love you never gave.

Love well beautiful friends, and you will live well.

LISA BEVERE
Lisa is an international speaker, best-selling author, and co-founder of Messenger International. In her transparent style, Lisa shares God’s Word woven with personal experiences to empower lives with freedom and transformation. Her heart breaks over social injustice. As an advocate for change, she rallies others to be an answer to desperate problems near and far. Lisa begins her days with mochas and ends them laughing around the dinner table. Lisa lives in Colorado Springs with the love of her life, author and speaker John Bevere, and their family.

THE LIVING YEARS: MIKE & THE MECHANICS