Disappearing Sunsets

The Long Goodbye. It was the title that finally drew me into reading this book by Patti Davis, Ronald Reagan's second daughter.  I didn't want to read it for the longest time, because I didn't like Patti Davis. In fact, she talks about me in her book. Well, at least people like me - those that have never wanted to listen to what she has to say because of her past, her politics and her disrespect of her father. I couldn't imagine there would be anything worthy that she would have to say. This book was written in 2004 just after her father's death. It was December, 2017 when I finally relented and was drawn in by the title to see what it was she wanted to tell America. Because of her known past politics and my continued belief that she isn't a Christian, I proceeded with caution.

It was a short, easy read and actually beautifully written. Patti has a passion for writing and it shows. There were things I loved about the book and some things which I didn't agree. But I found nothing that I hated like I thought I would. I was wrong about what I thought she would write.  

There were two things I was struck by most profoundly. One was Patti's obvious deep remorse at the way she behaved during her father's Presidential term. She berated him, stood with his "enemies", loathed his policies and campaigned against him. There was a chasm between her and her parents miles wide and every bit as deep. I remember her during these years and I often wondered then, as did most Americans who followed politics, how in the world a daughter could do this to her father. It was heart-breaking. But just as heart-breaking all these years later is her very apparent remorse over it. Thank God a healing transpired from those terrible years with his daughter, before the president died. He knew it and she needed it.

The other thing that was so vividly apparent throughout the entirety of her writing was her father's deep Christian faith and love of our Lord. Now I always knew Ronald Reagan was a Christian. I never for one moment believed it was for show, like so many other politicians like to pretend. Most American politicians, even still today, know they must show a respect for God and the Bible if they are to get anywhere in the world of politics. Faith in God is still deeply ingrained into our culture regardless of what a biased, liberal  media wants us to believe. We want our politicians to have faith; therefore sometimes we see phony faith. I knew this was never the case with President Reagan. I did not know, however, just how rooted his faith actually was. And never in my wildest imagination did I believe Patti Davis would ever write about that faith. I was wrong. She did and she did it beautifully.

Now I have no idea if Patti Davis has ever made a commitment to Jesus, our Lord. I have no idea what is in her heart. With some, like Ronald Reagan, it is apparent. But there are some I would never venture to judge. I guess Patti Davis would be in that category. I believe she is wrong about certain things, but what I do know, is her father taught her about Jesus and she listened and remembers fondly the important things he taught her. This faith and our God permeated this book from start to finish. It was the paramount subject of her book if one is to read carefully and acutely her words.

With that preface, now I just want to talk about her book; the things I gleaned from it, and why I finally picked up the book in the first place. And probably a bit about my own experiences.

Alzheimer's - The Disease that Steals

As I said earlier, it is the title The Long Goodbye  that was mostly what drew me to this book. The other, was the man - Ronald Reagan. I knew of his long battle with Alzheimer's and I wanted to see how the family dealt with this dreadful disease. And now I would like to share a few messages that I gleaned from this book.

One came early in the second chapter. Patti speaks of ones memory having "pockets of time" that are unaffected by this disease. For her father, these pockets held hymns and prayers, probably Bible verses as well. Below is what she said when she had observed him perfectly citing the Lord's Prayer one day while sitting in church:

" They are his treasures; they always have been - the shiny stones he turns over in his hand, keeping them polished and smooth. I closed my eyes for a moment as I sat between my parents and prayed that he will always be able to recite the Lord's Prayers, always recall a hymn. I asked God to keep his treasures safe."

In the same chapter, she speaks of making friends with death. I am not in agreement with her on this. One of the things that made me slightly cringe while reading was her source and her feelings that death is our constant companion that travels on our left shoulder.

"I feel, in my conversations with my mother that we are both making friends with this shadowy presence, this unwelcome guest. Because the enemy-the true messenger of terror-would be the full progression of Alzheimer's. I never want to see the day when my father stands up in church and is unable to remember the Lord's Prayer. I would rather watch him turn toward his left shoulder and say, "All right, I'm ready now."

Now that is exactly how I feel, except rather than see him look to his left shoulder at death, I would want to see him reach his hands toward heaven and say those words. "All right, I am ready now."

Still, there is a powerful lesson in her story when one feels one is spinning out of control headed down a drain of dementia or Alzheimer's and losing all that one wants a loved one to hold on to.  

Something else she wrote, I clung to not so much because it was about the President's disease, but rather it was about how he lived his life. It was especially touching to me, because it was a lesson my dad had also taught me. Patti had asked her mom, Nancy Reagan, how her dad could have come through all the antics of Hollywood and then DC with his "innocence still intact".

"He never really participated in the Hollywood lifestyle....He did his work and left. He kept his dreams alive, and his innocence, by never giving too much away, by holding enough of himself in reserve so that no one could tarnish what he held dear."

Now there is some sage advice. It was exactly how my parents lived their lives. They never allowed anyone to tarnish what they held dear. Oh, if we could only teach our children to live in this way. But not only does one need to hold oneself in reserve, one also needs to be prepared to stand, all the while understanding the balance that is required as well. Ronald Reagan did and so did my folks. Never give too much away of oneself - there will come a time one needs something for oneself.

Achans in the Camp

One thing Patti wrote that I strongly disagree with is something that may not be all that important, but it is important to me. And I will admit it is controversial. Patti says in her final chapter that she believes it is no accident who is there in the final moments when someone dies. She had often wondered who it would be in the room when her dad took his last breath. She believes it to be ordained of God. I suppose there is some truth in her belief, but I also believe that this is something that could be controlled by someone, or even stolen from another. This can be human directed and orchestrated; by a medical team, by family, or anyone who chooses to take things into their own control. It can change everything for someone, while another may pride themselves that they were the ones that got to be there.

There are some things in life that just are not that concrete, though we like to pretend they are. Some Christians believe God pulls every little string to make things happen as He wants. I don't believe that and never have. The truth is we live in a fallen world. People's actions change things through choices they make, but we like to say it is God. Not necessarily. Just as Achan stole from the camp and it effected the whole camp, (Joshua 7) things are stolen from our lives every day. It is mostly due to man's fallen nature. The very biggest and most important part of God's sovereignty is the free will. Yes, His giving of free will is the biggest part of His sovereignty and in that, we do things all the time to mess up God's plan. Fortunately what Satan meant for evil God can turn to good. I say that here only to say God is not the author of all that is so difficult in our lives. I just don't believe it. Never have and never will. I really do not understand how the world would not be angry at God if it were any other way. Our own choices through our own free will is the only answer for those who question the atrocities of life.

And honestly the other thing is we forget that God has created an order to things. Some things are simply occurring within that order. Like gravity and the laws of nature. Those are God's design; He will not change those things outside of a miracle.

The Finish Line

One of the most difficult things for me in this book, was Patti's observation about how the Reagan family journeyed into accepting and even looking for the death that would inevitably come. There is guilt that comes from wanting the release; desensitization that comes from having to consider it, discuss it, think about it and sometimes even long for the end to come to free a loved one from his pain. Patti began to look at it as a beginning. There is nothing wrong in that. But the waiting, the anxiety, the fear and exhaustion...the guilt from looking at death as a release can be overwhelming. It simply feels wrong, like there is something wrong with you! But for Patti and the Reagan family they came to understand that the only way to maintain dignity "with a disease like Alzheimer's is if death beats it to the finish line." In that case, there is nothing wrong with wanting death to win...especially when one knows where the loved one is going...if we truly believe that.

It is normal to have guilt for wanting sweet release; craving an easy passage. Guilt seems normal in not knowing how to pray that through. What a challenge that presents.

I don't claim to understand all there is about Alzheimer's. I suppose I have been only remotely connected with it. But it helps to read another's words who has been dealt the blow of the declining health of parents and who has experienced the same difficult tasks and feelings. I get a bit frustrated with those that think they understand Alzheimer's well, unless they have actually taken care of someone with Alzheimer's. And that means their day in and day out care....most often for years! One cannot grasp the full weight of that burden from 1000 miles away and a weekly phone call or two.

Patti Davis obviously understood it. She understood it as a daughter losing her father, and one that was able to be there more often than most people who may have family on one coast with the other party on the other coast. Patti was fortunate that her dad had the best care that money could buy, so I suspect she and her family missed a lot of worry that money affairs might also bring into the equation. Needless to say Alzheimer's is an extremely difficult disease on a number of levels. Thank God for the things that make it easier. 

Her writing doesn't tell us that much about the disease or the trials it entails. Her words are more a tender portrayal of what it feels like to lose someone you love. Therein is the importance of this book, in my opinion. It is definitely worth the read, on so many levels. Patti Davis can write. And in her writing she provokes thought. But most of all, whether she intends to or not, she shares God; and the faith of a man who understood God as the most important part of his being. Jesus is the only thing that gets us through any of the difficulties in life.

I guess I don't know if everything is truly healed for Patti Davis. I hope so. But I found myself wondering why she took her mother's maiden name rather than her father's, showing a lack of pride and maybe even disdain for his highly respected name. I suspect she took her mother's name in anger during those terrible, rebellious years, but I don't understand why she would not want to honor her father's name now and take it as her own as author of this book. She still is unable to understand her father's politics. Unable to admit she was wrong about any part of hers, - even after all the great things this man did for our nation...proving his politics were most certainly correct. She still maintains she differs. That's ok, I guess if she is trying to stay true to who she believes she is. But she is wrong about who America is and has always been throughout our history. Though she now has a respect and love for America's people because of what she saw at her father's death, she still believes the false narrative that America is an Imperialistic nation trying to control the world. That is, she believed it at the time she wrote this book, maybe that has changed by now, as well. But all that aside, there is no doubt she loved her dad and the moments she had with him in his final days should be enviable for us all. Truly she has remorse for lost moments and she wants people to understand that. I suspect she hopes to prevent that from happening to others.

The Journey of Decline

Neither of my folks had/have Alzheimer's, but I believe any decline in a parent is a difficult passage. As with any aging person my folks have had some of the same ailments - hearing loss, loss of memory, difficulty in finding the right words, other communication problems and trouble with fine motor skills. Most of those are normal to aging, but they still present a challenge for both parties - the caregiver and the patient.

Most of the duties in taking care of my folks in their latter days has fallen to me and my older sister, i.e. doctor appointments, medical needs, bills, banking...stuff like that. Thank God I have a sister who also helps with daily care. Some families are all alone. Some parents are all alone. There is so much heartbreak in that. My sister and I try to bring everyone in the family into any important decisions that need to be made. My parents wanted that. But ultimately we are still orchestrating their lives by their own rules and preferences. We have always done what they wanted and expected.

Sometimes their needs are at odds with our own lives; it often interrupts, adds stress, and takes away time from our own families. Sometimes it is middle of the night ER calls. Sometimes it is simply an outing to try to bring some fun back into their lives. It often involves explaining and smoothing rough waters. Lately, it is difficult to know where to draw the line of how much we should do. Where should the sacrifice end when ones own family is suffering? Those are the difficult questions of late. We are tired, too. Sometimes I feel robbed of the soothing salve of grief that I should be able to have in the loss of my mom. The weight of it all is pressing down more and more. Life in general is becoming more and more arduous.

Through it all, sometimes I have been too busy doing all the necessary work for their care that I have forgotten to enjoy the moment. That is something that I regret in the case of my mom. Like Patti, I have regrets, too. Now that it is only my dad, I still forget to enjoy those moments. It is certainly not intentional. It is simply the busyness of the job. I forget to remember the man my dad once was. I forget to pray that he will never forget the words to a favorite hymn, like Patti prayed. I forget to look at his hands and remember the strength that was once held there. I forget to hold onto the sparkle of a laugh that reflects in his mostly now tired eyes. I hurry about. I die within. I lose patience and stumble over words and make things worse. I say "huh" too many times, frustrating him, when it may be better to simply let him believe that I heard and that I agree. I cannot enjoy the moment, because I do not know what is next and I don't know if I will have strength for whatever it is. I forget to take a "drink from my canteen" while on this journey, but sometimes it is only because I don't know where to find the dang canteen. Sometimes I shake it, only to find it empty.

I don't think Patti had to deal with the day to day challenges like my sister and I have had to. Her dad was on one coast and she was on the other. But what I do know, is in the pages of that book she revealed the best of who her father was. There is not one negative word about him. There is nothing that is disrespectful, no secrets revealed, no lines crossed, the world is not let into what the world should not know. I have the utmost respect for her for that. That is true love. Her remorse is palpable, but more than that, so is her love.

Disappearing Sunsets

One of the most poignant moments for me, is when Patti tells us that she is a child of a man who believed in pausing for sunsets. He demonstrated this to her often throughout their life together. Remembering that, in a final moment of her dad's life she paused on the beach to watch a sunset and say a prayer for her dad. "Help me make my father's passage easy," she prayed.     

I want that for my dad's life, too. I desperately want his passage easy. But also, I want "pausing for sunsets" to be part of my life, just as it was for Ronald Reagan's. There is goodness in that. I really believe that. I don't think I learned this as a child like Patti did. I do believe I finally learned it from my son. "Come see the sky, Mama", he would often say to me. "Look at the fingernail moon, Mom," he would call. Throughout his life as a child at home he would encourage me to slow down and look - to pause to enjoy the beauty of the moment. I always stopped to look when he called. It is the one thing I feel I did right. But I haven't done it enough of late. I am in a hurry. I run and don't feel. I am tired and frazzled and trying to get too much done in too little time. Life is passing me by; decisions are many and sometimes they begin to feel undirected and difficult. I hate that! The lack of control of my own life is something I must guard against resentment. Resentment is what "sits on my left shoulder" and I am not about to make friends with him. I continue to try to swat him away.

But mostly, I want to be someone who pauses for sunsets, like Ronald Reagan was. I want to teach that to others, like our 40th President did and like his daughter Patti Reagan Davis speaks of in her book. One thing we know; most of the time, when we run for the camera to catch the beauty in the early evening sky, by the time we get back the sunset has changed and almost gone in just seconds of time. Sunsets disappear just that quickly. I want to learn to pause and soak it all in and say a prayer as Patti did on the beach that day. Because the sun is setting fast in the life of one I care about, but it is also setting in mine.

 

The Weak

The weak require a sign. Look at all the people in the Bible that required a sign: Gideon; the Jews - even after seeing a miracle of Jesus feeding 5000. Yikes! I do NOT want to be one of those people...especially after seeing Truth.

But yeah, most often that would be me - I need a sign. Maybe not so much in the past, but definitely feeling the need, of late. A sign, please...that You are still there, or at least that You haven't forgotten me.

Oh in truth, I guess maybe I have always tried to see signs from God. Haven't we all? Not that we should go out and seek them or get all weird about it. But I have always felt that God speaks to us through nature; certain birds or animals; or sometimes situations. You know what I am talking about- "God Winks" they have sometimes been called,.

I don't think I ever look for them when I am at my lowest, but every once in a while they are just there and I know that I know that I know (hate that expression) that they are from God.

I have been feeling particularly tired the past few months...uh...maybe the past few years...the last decade...if truth be told.  But last week, after 3  or 4 midnight calls in as many days, to the emergency room for a loved one, I was feeling pretty drained. Finally after a hospital admittance and a long day at the hospital talking to doctors and nurses; making decisions, and blah, blah, blah, I was on my way home feeling pretty dismayed. God must hate me, I have been telling myself a little more often...yeah, yeah, I know...please don't preach at me - even if only to yourself, beyond the computer screen. ;-) Anyway, below was my thought process on my drive home from the hospital...

I hate this highway. I hate it with every fiber of my being. I hate the traffic lights, the rude drivers, and I hate all the moments it has stolen from my life. I hate it especially at rush hour traffic. Why am I sitting in this mess once again? The only way I hate it more is after a long day in the hospital talking to doctors and nurses and people who have to pretend they care. And on top of it all, wondering what in the world I am going to be exposed to. Oh wait! There is one way I hate this highway more...with all of that PLUS a first snow fall where people act like they have never in their life ever driven before. Yes...this would be my own personal hell. If God truly hated me and wanted to cast me into judgment, it might as well be here.

So that was my thinking. ALL. THE. WAY. HOME.

Once home, first thing on my agenda was a hot shower. Got to get rid of all those germs before I touch anything. Yes! I know! Some of that would be "Monk" style thinking. I am seeing signs of me becoming Monk, more and more and more. Don't care. I live by "Better to be safe, than sorry." 

After a somewhat soothing, hot shower, I put on my jammies, and I quickly built a fire with hopes of maybe watching a Christmas movie, in my recliner, in front of the crackling fire. Next up - a meal. Left over mashed potatoes and gravy and a part of a piece of chicken left over from yesterday's long day in the hospital. And then! Lo and behold! Finally a little mercy showed up; my husband gave up the show he was watching probably thinking Sean Hannity was on my mind.

Just as I settled in, the phone rang. I was needed back at the hospital. Alrighty, then. At least I had finished my meal. I quickly got dressed without fixing my hair and makeup. The second storm of the season had moved in after a long dry spell. I wasn't particularly looking forward to a drive back into town on slick roads. I have wimped out on snowy roads in my aging abilities.

"You want to go for a drive?" I asked my husband hoping for a chauffer on this snowy night.

"Not really," was his only response.

So I left without saying more.

The car was still warm, but I was definitely not trying to count my blessings at this time. I was able to get a text off for an explanation to my sister. But that was getting messy too. I finally just opted for "Please don't text anymore. I am driving now and the roads are slick."

So highway, you are mine once again. I was in full questioning-God-mode at this time. A few days ago, I had watched the movie "Hacksaw Ridge" and it too was on my mind. SIDE NOTE: Yes, I highly recommend this movie. And I apologize in advance for the violence. Mel Gibson produced it. Take that into consideration.

But anyway, back to my drive. Below is my thought process on this drive back into town:

I was thinking of the moment in the movie when Pfc. Desmond T. Doss, as a medic, had helped so many people and was finally left alone, wounded on the battle field (in spirit if not body) and he cried out in desperate anguish. "Lord, what is it you want of me?"

When I watched the movie that night, that line, that moment, that anguish hit my heart like a million arrows and I burst out in an avalanche of tears. Hiding my face with my blanket from my family members watching the movie with me, I was devastated for the man in the movie - the real life hero - but, I had been asking that same question myself for some time. Trying to understand the pain and discouragement I have been feeling the last few years, I woefully admit there are times I have been mad at God. It was the connection in those words that brought my tears. But no, I am certainly not comparing myself to Private Doss  - who he was as a person; or the heroics of his actions. But we all have our own circumstances that are our own personal battle. And I know full well I don't have the strength of people like that Private. I am one of the weak. So no, lets not even go there with any comparisons. It was simply a question in a moment that I related to and that pierced my heart in understanding. And I am sure I would have more than likely stated it instead as "What in the heck is it that You want from me?"  I am one of the weak.

Well in this moment when Private Doss asked that question of God, he instantly knew. He heard the cries for help behind him and immediately understood what it was God wanted him to do. He went back to battle - alone. Tired and weak, but determined in the knowledge that God was with him. He saved 75 people from that ridge. Praying after each: "Lord, please just one more." Powerful! Watch it, but with viewer advisement. I covered my eyes and my son told me when to look and when not to. I am one of the weak.

Now getting back to that. I was reflecting on this movie during my drive and thinking about myself just wanting to have an answer too. What is it you want of me, Lord?  

I. AM. EXHAUSTED. My life is disappearing without any chance to live my own. Yes, I went there. And then next I reflected on Job.

"Is this Satan trying to get me to curse You?" I asked our Lord. "Well whatever, but like Job, did You happen to remind Satan not to take my life?" I don't feel done yet. I wondered all of it and yes, even actually asked God that question. And just like He always does, He corrected me...with a bit of humor. "Don't worry, Job was a righteous man. You have no where near his righteousness, but through Me." ;-) So don't worry, you ain't gonna suffer like Job"...is what I got out of His answer.

Pretty sure He was telling me, that no, I will not have the trials of Job, because we both know full well that I couldn't handle it.

And I actually smiled at the chastisement...for a moment.

Then I remembered! Wait! God didn't take Job's life, because God knew Job could handle the trials. Then there's me...the weak. Yikes! Maybe so! ;-) (This is where you should laugh.)

Sitting at a red light, I was pondering all these things. Cursing the drive back into town. Hating every second of this highway...in the snow and actually starting to believe God hates me.

A motion from the left caught my eye. The car sitting in the turn lane next to me was rolling down their back seat window. I looked up at the car, and knew immediately who it was. I laughed cause I knew there was no one in the back seat, but I was a half a car length behind them. They could speak more easily to me through the back window. I pulled forward a bit, and rolled down my own window. My daughter, riding shotgun, then rolled down hers.

"What are you doing?" they asked.

"Hospital." I answered. And I was able to say something funny to make them both laugh. I told them I loved them, before sending them on their way at the turn of the light.

There was my God Wink. Those two, "my bluebirds of happiness", if you will. And I knew immediately in that moment, God didn't hate me. Because he just gave me a sign to show His love. My kids. I needed a sign, because I am weak...and that is ok. God cares about the weak, too. I was thrown a buoy in my sea of despair and as I realized that I burst into tears. Those tears are getting to be my morning and evening norm...most often for despair as opposed to joyful tears like in this moment.

I would need that buoy for the rest of the evening. I rested on it, as I carried out the business of my hospital visit.

Finally, I was able to leave about 9:00 pm after visiting hours had been over for an hour. As I exited the elevator, I ran into my favorite doctor. I had already ran into this man at a previous visit and at another really low moment. At that time, he had immediately recognized me, paused to talk to me and ask about my loved one. He was my God Wink on that previous visit a day or two ago and I had had no doubt about it on that particular day. And now here he was again. He almost didn't recognize me this time. You know -  no hair and no makeup done. Yeah, even my best friends don't recognize me undone. But anyway, this man had saved my loved ones life a few months ago. And here he was again, encouraging me at a low moment. My second God Wink for the evening. God bless this man. I wish all doctors were like him - the best of the best.

After our visit, I got into my car and dropped off a quick text to tell a family member (you know, the "Please don't text" person I had been texting earlier) what had happened as I knew she would be wondering. As I exited the hospital parking lot, I could already tell the roads had improved while inside the building and I was able to count my blessings a bit better at this point. Not sure why at 9:30 pm the roads were better. The temperature hadn't warmed; I thought with the less traffic they would be icing up by now...I guess I caught the highway just in time. Another blessing.

I settled a little more peacefully into my drive home. Once I got through the 10 or so traffic lights I had to travel through, I decided to turn on my favorite country CD. My son has always jokingly called this country artist my "therapy". On my many stressed runs into town, when he was a teen, he would go out and warm up my car and I don't know how he did it, but he always managed to have the CD set to my very favorite song which he knew would immediately calm me down. It never failed it was always the first song on the player as I drove out of the driveway and it ALWAYS had a calming effect.



This is where you laugh.



A few years later a t-shirt came out that read: "I don't need therapy. I just need to listen to Alan Jackson." My son saw it and posted it to my Facebook page. We both got a good laugh about it. We had been doing that for years! Anyway, I digress here, just to explain the history about my "therapy". It makes us laugh to this day.                      

So I put on my therapy and settled in for the long drive home. And just as I was backing into my driveway, my favorite therapy song came on the CD. It was my third God Wink in a long, discouraging, exhausting day. A trifecta of winks? Third times a charm? I don't know. I guess God simply knew one wasn't enough on this day; nor was two, or three. I needed a bit more. And I guess He knew I would like that it was 3 and see it as a little extra boost. Cause I am the weakest of the weak.

 

 

Lost in Silence

"History belongs to those who write." I have posted this quote before. I still strongly believe it and I still don't know who said it. But every once in awhile, it forcefully comes back to hit my heart just how important this statement is.

Today's one of those times. Most often, silence is bigger than the truth. Sometimes it seems people care more about avoiding a possible conflict, or prevent looking argumentative than standing for truth. That's a pet peeve of mine. Pretty sure the fact that I generally speak up, is a pet peeve for others. But sometimes it just isn't in me to stay silent. The truth about my community; standing up for a friend or family member; the truth in politics; and especially Biblical truths are imperative to me. I just don't understand silence on any of those issues. Why would we let a proven inaccuracy go unchallenged, or uncorrected? The falsehood thereby continues to spread and gain momentum - sometimes even changing the way we live our lives. Why would we not politely correct someone who misquotes, or defend one who is misquoted? Why allow someone to look foolish, or like they support something that they actually oppose. Why would we allow someone to believe anything that is inaccurate? Why would we let a friend's reputation or even a politician's reputation be destroyed when we can present facts that show differently? Why do we do that? I just don't get it. In a day and age where it has never been easier to defend someone, why do we remain silent?

One of the things I was asked at a recent job interview was: "What do you do if you are maligned, or someone you know is right, but has been said to be wrong?"

Oh goodness! Why did I get that question? But the truth is that is right up my alley - it is at the depth of my being. It is how I try to live my life; or at the very least how I really want to live it. And I don't think I even live that way "out of principle". I do it simply because I don't know how to do it any other way. I want to be defended, so I defend. No, it certainly doesn't always work that way.

This is how I answered the question at my interview. "When I worked at a restaurant, I had heard someone got food poisoning there. I felt that that was an inaccurate accusation and I couldn't let it pass. I had to defend what I knew to be true. Now there is always a possibility, that someone could have gotten sick there, but could they be certain the poisoning came from there? Were they positive that is what the illness was? What I know about the restaurant from working there is that it is the cleanest restaurant I have ever seen. What I know about this business is that the health department told them they were the cleanest restaurant in the area.

I could defend the reputation of the restaurant without being argumentative. I could present to the accuser, what I knew for myself without being offensive. I could defend the restaurant without saying the accusation was wrong. That is what I chose to do and hope I will always make that choice."

More often than not I choose to defend. Hopefully, I always do it politely and respectfully. Probably not, but I do try. I do not let inaccuracies stand. But I mostly feel alone in my efforts. When I am attacked, misquoted or misunderstood, I have never felt defended, supported, restored or avenged of the inaccuracies. Never. Even when I have prayed for God to expose the truth. Mostly the untruths just stand. That is difficult to understand sometimes. And I will admit, sometimes I wonder why I have not been defended by others. So be it. But I am not talking about defending myself here. Most will say we are not to defend ourselves. And I am not arguing that point. I am talking in this post about defending others and/or standing for truth.

 

Biblical Counsel

Do we have a Biblical precedent to follow regarding speaking up for truth? Of course we do. Obviously we are advised in Eph 4:15 regarding Biblical doctrine to speak the truth in love. But maybe even that is off point.

I often think about when Mary, mother of Jesus, who at the wedding told Jesus they had run out of wine. She was hoping He would fix the situation even if it meant revealing who He was. This is a bit different than what I am talking about in this post, as well. But still this incident always comes to my mind in situations where I feel left out on a limb, by myself, with no one defending me. Jesus didn't defend Mary. He corrected her. Outside of timing, I suppose it was also because Jesus thought her request was for the wrong reason. Sometimes that is the way it must be; sometimes maybe it is just best to leave things unsaid, for the well-being of another person. I am not talking about those times. My other pet peeve is when someone has no respect for appropriate silence - especially again when it comes to protecting a loved one. But in the end, in this incident, Mary obeyed; then advised others by telling the servants to do whatever Jesus instructed; and in the end Jesus responded with His first public miracle. I just think there is a lesson there. There was action in Mary's obedience, but also in telling others to obey.

In another incident of apparent silence, we know Jesus stayed silent before the charges brought against Him until compelled to give an answer, but His response was only to state Who He is. In Jesus' silence He revealed his authority. Sometimes that can be true for us, as well. But only when it is about God's power, not ours. And this example was for His own purpose. He did speak on behalf of others on the cross. "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do."

What about another time that Jesus verbally spoke in defense of someone? Jesus publicly defended the woman at the well, saying "Let he who is without sin, cast the first stone." Her accusers left one by one. I firmly believe this is how we are to respond, in whatever means we have available to us. This is also an example He left for us.

 

Of course, Jesus' whole life and purpose was about the defense of others. He is our Advocate with the Father. That always evokes strong emotion in me. But I am human and sometimes I would like earthly defense from my brothers and sisters, as well. ;-)

Ok enough of that; this isn't a Bible Study; just my random thoughts, so search for yourself and please feel free to comment if you have some thoughts regarding this. I am truly interested. Back to the subject at hand.

Preserving Truth

What about the fact, that "history belongs to those who write"? What are we going to do if we have read something we know is not true? Let inaccuracies stand? Our silence changes truth, not just for the moment but forever. Not just at the personal level, but at every level. Someone understands that - thus revisionist history; thus yellow journalism. If one wants to permanently change facts - write. In my opinion, if one wants truth to stand - write.

I got myself in trouble a while back correcting inaccuracies that were written on line. The lies were evident to those familiar with the circumstances, but for  the countless others who weren't a part of the situation, it was impossible to know the truth. The more I corrected, the more the attacks grew. But should I have just let the lies stand and said nothing? Those written statements were not going to go away. People could read them for years. They would eventually come to be known as truth, because there was no effort to expose the inaccuracies. What if a relative, maybe a grandchild, read those lies years later? I would rather look foolish in print, than let lies remain about someone I know.

Apart from that, sometimes it is simply about offering support. Sometimes you know someone's character, or their purpose, even if you don't know the actual facts. Innocent until proven guilty, right? I think it is important to defend simply to encourage someone in the battle. You don't leave someone dying alone on the battlefield. You just don't do it. You come to their aid.

Books have been written with no accountability, saying whatever someone wants to say. Movies, "based on an actual story" or even labeled as "fiction" somehow become real in the public's mind. People don't often reason and think for themselves anymore; they just believe it as fact because "It was on TV". That's just plain dangerous to our society. The lies/inaccuracies, then stand and eventually somehow become "representative of the times" and therefore truth. Our history, our moral compass as a society is thereby incrementally changed. Our culture becomes known as something different than what it was and even actually still is.

"A lie repeated often enough, eventually becomes truth." - Joseph Stalin

Someone understands that today, too, because "spin" i.e. distortion, is prevalent in our society. It is how some do their politics now days. It is also how some do their church.

 

Yes, history belongs to those who write. I am going to keep writing, no matter how unpopular. Someone has to defend truth, no matter how small or unread, or seemingly irrelevant. Because I believe somewhere, sometime, someone will read. And someone must know the truth. No matter how small or seemingly irrelevant. BECAUSE nothing is gained but for one small step at a time, and all is lost in silence.

“I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.”

~Elie Wiesel

"The philosophers are wrong; it is not words that kill, it is silence." ~Elie Wiesel