‘POW’ Tom Gains His Freedom

True Story: WWII had ended. And yet . . . for about thirty years afterwards Tom, haunted by the ugly scenes that he’d witnessed when engaged in the theatre of war, agonized deeply—tortured especially by the fact that he’d killed fellow human beings. He eventually sank into the dark dungeon of depression and despair. 

One day in the mid-1970s, while alone in his house, he took his shotgun and, in a suicide attempt, blew off a large portion of his face. Amazingly, help reached him in time, and he survived. 

I don't have Tom's photo.

Pictured here is my late father-in-law.

Following the Normandy Invasion he 

was assigned to the British Liberation

Army, and was the only one of four 

school buddies to return home alive. 

He didn't like to talk about it.

 

After much reconstructive surgery, including the fashioning of a new jawbone from another bone and graft tissue from elsewhere in his body, Tom was on the road to physical recovery. Yet the emotional wounds persistently pained him. Until . . . 

Until the psychological and spiritual prisons that led to his committing that desperate act were broken open and demolished. 

A neighbour of Tom’s—a pastor friend of mine—visited with him and gently encouraged him during his long journey towards physical recovery, sharing faith and hope in the love of Jesus. Other Christian folk also came by. Tom, like a prisoner of war and hungry for relief was finally heart-ready to be set free from the shackles that held him bound; ready to find the peace that had eluded him all those years.

Tom opened up his life to God and received Jesus Christ as his Saviour. He experienced a palpable sense of forgiveness and release, peace and wholeness. It was for real! Hungry for more of this grace, he and his wife began attending a supportive Christian fellowship. 

I shared many a conversation with Tom, for I also became his neighbour, during his continuing journey of healing and faith.

Quite some years ago I wrote about Tom, and suggested that until He received the healing presence of Jesus into his life he’d remained, in effect, a 'POW'— prisoner of war, although the war had long before been fought and won.

Many people live like POWs, even though, through His death and resurrection, Jesus Christ won our war against the forces of evil and the sinful nature that are at enmity against the goodness, grace and will of God. 

Do you remain imprisoned within yourself—bound up in chains of sorrow, anger, unforgiveness, guilt, unfounded fear and wounded pride, and more? Is your heart broken, in a state of perpetual fragmentation, because you’ve been unwilling to let Jesus heal it?

May God grant this year’s Remembrance Day season to be one in which you are released from any prison cells of the soul that have too long held you in spiritual chains. It will be a Remembrance Day season well worth remembering.

A Prayer:

Dear God our Heavenly Father, I thank You for the gift of Your Son, who shed His blood on the ‘battlefield’ of the Cross to secure my pardon. I claim Your forgiveness of all my sins. Cleanse me, renew my spirit and mind, and lead me in Your way everlasting. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

~~+~~

Peter is a retired pastor – well, sort of retired – as he is currently engaged as an associate volunteer pastor. He lives in Southwestern Ontario with his wife, May, and writes a weekly inspirational newspaper column and occasional magazine articles. Peter is author of two books: "Parables from the Pond" (Word Alive Press) and "Raise Your Gaze . . . Mindful Musings of a Grateful Heart" (Angel Hope Publishing). He and May are also engaged in leading nursing home / residential chapel services, pulpit supply and music. ~+~

When you need a friend

A long-time friend posted on my Facebook page yesterday about making and keeping friends. The message said:

“It’s easy to make 15 friends in one year.

But keeping one friend for 15 years is special.”

I had to agree, because this person has been my friend since senior public and high school days, when our small rural schools closed and we were collected by bus and on our way to another bigger school. In a time like that, we are forced to move beyond our comfortable places. My friends from School Section (commonly known as S. S.) # 8 came too. We made new friends and kept the former ones too. And there were friends along the way at church in my Sunday School class and in our church in the city who have become just as dear.

East coast friend Maryann

 Barbara

Sunday School and confirmation-- friends there too

We recently had opportunity to gather with these long-time friends, for Linda’s partner became a friend of ours too. With us, another friend, Lorraine, gathered into our midst at a different point in our lives, in career choices and university years (for them).

Lorraine travelled with us to visit Linda and Bob in Port Dover, their retirement community. Another couple, Donna and Ron, also represent a friendship made during high school years, so you can imagine the conversations that might make its way into our gathering. 

in Port Dover

I’ve learned over the years the difference between an acquaintance and a close friend. I have many acquaintances, people I know reasonably well. Then the life-long friends, or other friends made later and just as dear, who care about how I’m doing, who have interests similar to mine. Those are the ones I share with when the world feels uncomfortable, when things happen that make me sad. Those are the ones who I go to when my world feels like it’s falling apart, and whom I also lend an ear when they suffer a life calamity or death of a loved one. We celebrate too, and often finish each other’s sentences and thoughts.

 

Missing Kathy too

It’s painful to lose a friend like that, and I’ve lost a number of them over the years— Barb, Susan, Gayleen, Kathy, and more. The other half of a personal journey, the second part of a soul sister. It’s good when a sibling, daughter, or a cousin fits in that space too, and I add a few of those to my consideration of soul sisters and friends (including male cousins).

In Sunday School we sang, “Jesus loves me, this I know,” and we learned that Jesus wants to be our friend too. A different kind of friendship, to be sure, because grace and mercy are at stake. And forgiveness. We might try, but we humans don’t forgive as freely as God does. I know I am forgiven, and often the hardest to forgive is myself. My friends may forgive me, but God’s grace is so much bigger and eternal.

 

I cannot imagine going through life without friends. How lonely it must be. We as humans will never perfect, in fact far from it. And yet in our communities there’s still loneliness and lack of trust, and pain. And we feel it too at times. We need grace and forgiveness. As Leonard Cohen says in Anthem, “There’s a crack in everything.” And he expresses that’s where the light gets in.

And so I’ll keep all my friends—acquaintances, soul sisters and close friends, siblings and cousins whom I can confide in, and Jesus. That should keep me in good company whatever happens in life.

 Carolyn R. Wilker is a blogger, author, and editor from South-western Ontario, Canada, who enjoys photography, gardening and reading, and spending time with family.

 https://www.carolynwilker.ca/

The Writing Life — Passion and Responsibility (By Peter A. Black)

Are you a writer? Or, perhaps you wouldn’t call yourself a writer, per se—as yet, but you do have a growing interest in producing some written work; you sense that you would like to create something written—present some ideas, experiences or stories to share with others.

Some writers, it seems, once they’ve discovered writing, have little interest in anything else.

Once they’ve found their own writing voice, many will never be the same again.

They feel that they’ll never be satisfied unless they’re writing nor their lives be complete, unless they complete their latest WIP (work in progress) and see it through to publication. Writing has become their passion. I’m grateful to have enjoyed more than a bite and the sweet taste of such exhilaration. 

It’s true: creative writing does change the writer.

Whether the work is an opinion piece, biography or fiction, something of the writer gets invested,

Ad hoc selection pulled from my library;

some quite old, some fairly young.

transmuted onto the page. That self-investment might sit within the covers for decades—even centuries, waiting to be discovered.

An author may die, yet whenever their book is opened and its contents intelligible to a reader possessing a working knowledge of the language and terminology in which it was written, the author ‘lives again,’ as it were. Such is the case of “the Bard”—William Shakespeare’s work.

This is often the case with the Biblical Scriptures. For me, the Bible doesn’t come across as a musty, dusty and irrelevant relic. The writers of the various volumes within it and the lives and situations they wrote about stand out in three-dimensions—maybe four! None is brought into relief so clearly as the Saviour Redeemer, Jesus Christ; He emerges as the chief character (cp. John 5:39; Luke 24:26,27).

Writers’ self-investment in their written work has potential to recreate in the reader’s mind the scenarios described or portrayed—the sights, sounds, scents. Readers’ emotional feelings can be stirred and their attitudes undergo modification, their values adjusted for better or worse and for good or evil. They may come to know themselves more deeply, by seeing themselves mirrored in  the characters.

The ideas and thoughts that the author has personally invested in the work or those portrayed through the characters can become the reader’s own.

Therein lies the point at which writers’ passion for their art intersects with their responsibility.

If readers of my work should happen to embrace my ideas and thoughts and inculcate the values advocated through them, are goodness and grace likely to be the outcome in their lives and relationships?

Or . . . Or what . . .? 

~~+~~

Peter A. Black is a retired pastor – well, sort of retired – and lives in Southwestern Ontario. He writes a weekly inspirational newspaper column, P-Pep! and is author of Raise Your Gaze ... Mindful Musings of a Grateful Heart, and Parables from the Pond – a children's / family book. ~~+~~

Law, Not War? Rather, Love! (By Peter Black)

He and his wife have given millions of dollars for charitable purposes, yet they live in a small, modest bungalow in Florida. Ben came to North America from Eastern Europe in poverty and said he plans to finish his life that way.
 

Benjamin Ferencz.
Credit: Washington Post

His wife suffers from dementia, and his attentiveness and presence helps comfort and keep her stable. When he’s absent from her side, she misses him greatly. And so, this retired lawyer turns down numerous requests from around the world asking him to address conferences and speak at universities. That’s love.

Credit: Washington Post

Ben (Benjamin) Ferencz is the last surviving prosecutor of the Nuremberg War Crimes Trials that were held shortly after the end of World War II. At only twenty-seven years of age he was appointed chief prosecutor of the Nazi extermination squads, considered the biggest murder trial in human history. Now at the age of ninety-seven his passion for peace-making burns as fervent and bright as ever!

Ferencz was Anna Maria Tremonti’s guest on CBC’s The Current, on Tuesday, March 21, 2017. I listened, intrigued by his personality, life and passion. He doesn’t take vacations, but continues to educate, inform and influence others as best he can, even though no longer touring the world. His mantra asserts that “Law, not War” and persistent education and resolution of conflicts is the better way. Armaments won’t do it, he insists.

Ben Ferencz’s passion reverberates in my mind today and somehow interacts with my own thoughts and journey during this meditative season of Lent.

Inter-church Lenten services are held in my community. I’m inspired by them and thoroughly appreciate fellowship with people from other denominational affiliations.

Sure, we may differ in some doctrinal particulars and practises. Fact is though, that God is not beholden to me and neither are those people. But, I am beholden to God and it is incumbent on me to recognize His grace as extended towards and expressed through those who believe that Jesus is Christ, the Son of God, our Lord and Saviour, who gave His life and shed His blood to redeem us from our sins and reconcile us to God.

I feel the warmth of fellowship “in Christ” with many, regardless of race and colour, and we mutually embrace each other as Christ-followers. That’s also love.

We hear much about mistrust, anger and hate directed towards “the other,” in our society and in the world at large, today. In harmony with Mr. Ferencz, I acknowledge that information and education can play a part, and that laws banning expressions of hate and hateful acts might help.

Trailer Credit: maxresdefault ; YouTube

I admire and appreciate what I’ve learned of this remarkable human being, Ben Ferencz. The film, A Man Can Make A Difference, tells his story. I’m sure the world is a better place because of his passionate commitment to justice for all.

Laws prescribe standards of behaviour, from domestic levels to international affairs. But will well-meant and well-worded laws change hearts? Surely the best laws are those that are indelibly inscribed in hearts and demonstrated through lives well-lived with understanding and practical love for others.

Jesus Christ’s accomplishment through the cross declares that self-giving and loving actions can help change attitudes and outcomes and can break down the walls of suspicion and mistrust that divide.  And yet, even He met with fierce opposition that led to His crucifixion and death. But was it not really His Divine love that held Him to the cross?

May the love of God our Father, through the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, transform hearts today.

~~+~~

 

Peter A. Black lives in Southwestern Ontario. He writes a weekly inspirational newspaper column, P-Pep! and is author of Raise Your Gaze ... Mindful Musings of a Grateful Heart, and Parables from the Pond. ~~+~~

 

 

Bearing the Scars—Carolyn R. Wilker

Across the country today, people will gather at cenotaphs and lay wreaths for the soldiers who gave up their lives for our country. There are likely only a small number of those veterans from the World Wars remaining who might lay a wreath to their comrades or read from a list of young men from the community who ‘answered the call’ to fight in a war that was not of their making.

In many communities, you can see names carved in a monument of citizens who went away to fight and never returned. Of those who came home, many were physically wounded and bearing scars we can’t see. It would change their lives forever. While Remembrance Day is mainly for the World Wars, our military has also fought in other places around the world, including Afghanistan, where they were called to defend or fight. A soldier might go away bravely, but come back different and unable to cope, or they might pick up their job and try to carry on.

All wars have a cost. The soldiers went away, likely believing they could make a difference and those who returned home either talked about it or they didn’t. I only know from the stories I’ve heard of people who lived through war in their country, who were deprived of a bread winner who was enlisted to fight, or that they were fearful for their lives about what was going on around them. In Canada, we’ve had more distance from it.

My own mother-in-law shared little, but she did tell me about one situation in her life during the war. I could only imagine her family’s fear when soldiers came knocking on their door demanding their home as a place for soldiers to stay. The family could only take with them what they could load on a wagon. Their place for the nights and days that followed was the forest. She told me of worrying about wild animals there while they slept on the ground. I hurt for her as she told it. I felt fearful for her as a young girl, a fear she carried into adulthood and to the end of her life. It caused her much angst; her experience changed her and affected the lives of those around her.

A storyteller relates an occurrence of soldiers laying down their guns on Christmas Eve in France, sharing treats, pictures from home and singing carols with their opponents and then having to pick up those guns the next day. I’m sure there were many stories of bravery too, and of being decorated for a heroic act, but I cannot write those. They are others’ stories of survival.

Today is one of heaviness that’s hard to talk about and harder to write, maybe a reason that few go to the cenotaph service. If we remember anything from those who speak candidly of their war experiences, show respect and help us to recognize the cost. 

If we can work for peace, all the better for us.

We do have one who bears scars for us. Jesus Christ died for us and experienced the agony of the cross for humanity’s sin. He died that we might live. We were loved before we could love. If it helps at all today, let us think about peace and practise it.

“Make me a channel of your peace...”  inspired by the prayer of St Francis of Assisi

Listen to the song here.

Carolyn Wilker, editor, author and storyteller from southwestern Ontario

www.carolynwilker.ca