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The cure for bitterness

12/25/2019

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I am reminded so frequently these days of the futility of trying to live one’s life apart from God – and of the bitterness it often generates, not  only in those living apparently full lives, but also and perhaps especially among those living in long-term care facilities.

Among younger people, it often plays out as frenetic activity – filling every waking moment with earthly purpose from work and socializing to cleaning the house and pursuing every possible form of entertainment. These activities give them a sense of purpose, goals to work toward, others to compare their achievements to. And, importantly, it eliminates the need to be alone with their thoughts.  

This approach to “God avoidance” can continue into old age. Such individuals may find new outlets for their busy-ness – playing cards or shopping, becoming certifiable health nuts or filling their calendars with doctors’ appointments and lunch dates, to cite just a few examples -- but there's a common denominator: calendars and To Do lists filled to overflowing.  

But at some point, this sort of life can take a sharp turn into doing as little as possible – sometimes by necessity, as health issues begin to pile up. And then comes a plunge into bitterness, fed by sitting alone and thinking about how everyone they know has let them down over the years. After all, none of this could possibly be their fault!  

It's really no surprise. As Jim Berg wrote in his wonderful book Created for His Glory (BJU Press, 2003), “The grim reality is that the emptiness of life without God at the center pushes itself to the consciousness once again when the music stops, the drugs wear off, the eroticism fails, the fashions grow old, the relationships disappoint, the accomplishments fade, and the thrills subside.” 

And emptiness almost invariably breeds bitterness.  

You can usually tell within a few minutes’ conversation what a new acquaintance’s relationship with the Lord is, or is not, based solely on how he or she spends his or her time. When there’s no relationship – and when a few gentle comments confirm that this person has absolutely no interest in the things of God – the solution is obvious: These people need to understand who God is and who they are, to grasp His holiness and their sinfulness, to learn about the repentance and trust in Christ that are the keys to eternal life.

Only when they embrace these truths will they be free to shed their bitterness and embrace the promise of eternal joy. Isn’t it wonderful to know that, if you’re a Christian, you may be the one who helps them to see the light? 

There are many ways to point a conversation in the right direction, and to present the gospel. I personally think that Living Waters' Are You a Good Person? approach is the easiest to deliver, and to understand, but you may have a better way to share the good news of Jesus Christ.  

But don’t put it off – there are too many people suffering from bitterness these days, and the Lord has equipped all His children with the cure. 
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Have $100K to spare?

12/17/2019

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The median annual cost of a private nursing-home room in the United States continues to climb, according to insurer Genworth’s latest Cost of Care survey. Compare today’s figure to the costs revealed by the company in a couple of recent years: 

  • 2014: $87,600
  • 2016: $92,376
  • 2019: $102,204
 
I did the math: Over the last five years alone, the average median cost of a private room has increased by almost 17%! That doesn’t bode well for the less affluent among us.
 
These prices vary by region, of course; to learn about average costs are in your area, select your state on the map Genworth provides on this same page. In Wisconsin, for instance, the average median cost for a private room is currently $112,788/year.
 
Considering that we baby boomers are only beginning to hit the skids, we shouldn’t be surprised if these numbers continue rising rapidly as the demand for skilled nursing care increases, and as Medicaid reimbursements continue falling short of the actual cost of providing this care. That’s a good reason for thinking twice before spending too much on assisted living. It’s also a good reason for taking a close look at long-term-care insurance.  
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What we've lost

12/12/2019

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The older I get, the more time I spend thinking back on my close-to-perfect early years in small-town Green Bay, Wisconsin. What could be more comforting than recalling the people and places that made for a loving, happy, and endlessly fascinating childhood in the worry-free world of the 1950s?
 
So I’m no stranger to Memory Lane. Which is why it was such a shock, just a few days ago, to find myself awash in tears of regret and longing.
 
Here’s what happened.
 
My husband and I were looking for a 1930s-era cookbook containing a particularly tasty recipe for macaroni and cheese. We didn’t find it, but he did find the cookbook published by my parents’ church in the 1970s.
 
“Maybe the recipe’s in here,” he said.
 
I knew it wasn’t, but started paging through the book anyway. And was immediately blown away by all these names from my childhood—the names of my mother’s closest friends.
 
Cec Evans. Jo Lenfesty. Eva Peterson. Phyllis Zahn.
 
On and on it went—names that reminded me of what I’d left behind when I moved to the big city, and what we as a nation have lost as we left behind the time-tested hopes, dreams and values of the 1950s.
 
I started reading through the recipes, remembering how most of these women—perhaps all of them—viewed housekeeping as both their vocations and their avocations. How they considered their purpose in life to be making loving homes for their husbands and children. And how Jesus Christ and His church were absolutely central to their lives.
 
I guess I’d never really thought about this last point before. When I left Green Bay, one of my happiest realizations was that I’d never again have to set foot in a church. Talk about freedom!  
 
But I thought about it now. My mother had friends outside of her church, but none were as important to her as the sisters in Christ with whom she worshipped and fellowshipped every Sunday and many days in between. 
 
Lucille Hopkins.  Hazel Myers.  Mabel Stiles. Ginny Christensen.
 
I spent some time remembering each of these women.
 
I thought about how blessed they had been, to have lived their lives apart from the corporate rat race, to have had husbands who worked low-pressure 8-to-5 jobs, coming home for lunch at noon and almost always being there for dinner with the family. 
 
And I thought about how blessed their children were, growing up with mothers who were never more than a phone call away should something horrible happen at school. Not that anything horrible ever happened in those days, but still, knowing that Mom could be there in five minutes if necessary was always a source of peace and security.
 
Lois James. Ruth Washburn.  Lucille Ragland. Florence Goedjen.
 
I took a break from my reverie to go grocery shopping at our local megastore. Searching for hot ham and hard rolls, I found the deli department crowded with young women. They were all dolled up in the latest fashions, all waiting impatiently to place their orders, alternately checking their smart phones and glaring at the flustered older woman behind the counter.
 
Sadly, I saw a reflection of myself some 40 years earlier.
 
“Stop!” I wanted to cry. “What are you doing, girls, wasting your lives on jobs that really don’t matter, doing work that may feed your ego today but is ultimately futile? Stop, before it’s too late! Seek God while He may be found. Then find a nice man, one who’ll be a good husband and a good father, settle down and raise up a family. Don’t wait!”
 
Of course, I didn’t say any of these things. The security team would have been on me in a flash. Besides, these young women wouldn’t have gotten it because they didn’t live it.
 
In fact, I’ll wager that most had never even heard of a world centered on faith and family. That most had no idea that safe neighborhoods, small communities and low-cost family vacations had once been the rule for most Americans. That most had never heard a thing about the gospel or their need for the Savior.
 
Instead, they’ve been raised in a culture of pleasure and plenty. They’ve been indoctrinated by an educational system that says there’s no such thing as absolute truth, to live in a world that feeds pride rather than souls and replaces the promise of heaven with the lure of fame and fortune. They’ve never even been tempted to consider metaphysical questions like where they came from, what they’re doing here, and where they’re going.
 
We’ve lost so much in this country over the last half century. Which raises important questions for all believers: How can we reach these young people for the Lord? Is it really too late?  

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It's never too late to become heaven-bound

12/4/2019

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I normally attend a number of funerals each year – no surprise, considering both my age and the time I spend with elderly friends at the nursing home. But what makes some of these events extra special is their reminder that it’s never too late to receive Christ as one’s personal Savior.
 
In particular, a trio of friends who died over the last 15 months had three eternally significant traits in common.
 
First, each had a stunning story of a late-in-life conversion. All had been life-long church-goers, although their denominations differed. But all received Christ as Savior long after the time that people are ordinarily saved, according to conventional wisdom. The youngest at the time of conversion was 81; the oldest, 98.
  
Second, they each had amazing wisdom to share, even though their Christian walks had been relatively brief. I suppose that’s partly because they had time to think about the things of God, and the things of eternity. Just as important, they had decades of life experiences to ponder anew, this time with eternal eyes – including heart-breaking experiences that, after all, led them to this place, and this time, where they would finally meet the Savior and accept His free offer of a heavenly forever.
 
Third, each of these aged saints had beatific expressions in this life. And while I know that those well-worn visages probably didn’t go with them to heaven, I enjoy imagining that they did – and envisioning how rapturous each one would have looked to have come face to face, at long last, with the One who died for them. In fact, my heart leaps each time I picture one of them experiencing such unfathomable joy, and in turn imagining what it will be like when I join them, one happy day.
 
What a blessing it is to get to know these elderly brothers and sisters in Christ! 
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    Kitty
    Foth-Regner

    I'm a follower of Jesus Christ, a freelance copywriter, a nursing-home volunteer, and the author of books both in-process and published -- including
    Heaven Without Her.

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