Greater Love Hath No Man Than This

I am fiercely patriotic. I love America. I have stars snd stripes on the walls of my kitchen hanging near to a copy of the Declaration of Independence. Up until we moved to Alabama, an American flag flew every day at my home in Wisconsin (I just haven't found a place for it yet). I love red, white and blue. I love that our country has "under God" in its pledge. I admire our Constitution. And recently I painted a bird house with the words "God bless America" on it. "America is the home of the free, because of the brave," I once read on a bumper sticker. I couldn't agree more. We are a blessed nation with servicemen and women who put their lives in harm's way for the sake of our country. And I am grateful to them.

My grandfather, John Lauritzen, was one of those men. In 1945, he served in World War II, leaving behind a wife and four children ages 15, 5, 4 and 2. My Dad was the 5 year old. On Feb. 2, 1945, Grandpa wrote this letter/poem to my grandmother, Elizabeth:

My Dearest Mommy:
(never knew your Daddy as a poet, did you?)

I know I cannot write a poem
About a lovely place like home;
A home where my wife and children pray
Their Daddy soon comes back to stay.

I do know I will always feel
A love so deep, so strong and real;
That all this suffering I now see,
Will not in future bother me.

I want my mind and my heart, too,
To be reserved for all of you
To start where our lives stopped before
God, please, end all this darned old war!

How's that?

Love from your Daddy.

Two days before my grandmother received this letter, a telegram from the United States government was delivered to her informing her that my grandfather was killed in action Feb. 16, 1945. My Dad says he remembers Grandma sitting on her bed holding the telegram in her hand and sobbing. He says he knew, before she said anything, that his Daddy was never coming home again.

Grandma couldn't afford to have Grandpa's body shipped back home. Instead she was sent his belongings and what they found on his body ... which included two pictures: one of my grandmother and the other of his three preschool children. John Lauritzen was buried alongside 7,992 other American fallen in Germany at the Henri-Chapelle American Cemetary in Belgium. Just recently, my Dad made a trip there to see his father's gravestone cross. It's just one in a sea of white crosses arched across the grassy field. Dad said it gave him finally the chance to say good-bye to his father ... more than six decades later.

My grandfather fought, bled and died for America. Jesus, when refering to a sacrifice He was about to pay for all our sakes, said in John 15:13: "Greater love has no man that this, that he lay down his life for his friends." I am so proud of the grandfather I've never met. And I look forward to the day when I can thank him in person for his sacrifice. When I asked my grandmother about him once, she said, "He was the love of my life."

This Memorial Weekend, I am remembering with honor Americans who died serving this country ... like John H. Lauritzen, one of the brave.

Hardiness Growing Zones

It's raining as I type this. God is watering is beautiful creation and, thankfully, my garden, flower beds and lawn. That's something I have had to do myself a lot lately since it hasn't rained much prior to this for about a month. Typically I water about every two or three days, and if I miss one watering, my Black-Eyed Susans are the first to complain, shriveling and drooping.

But one thing I have never watered, not once, in my yard, are my crepe (crape) myrtle trees. It's because they grow like weeds here in Alabama. They are everywhere and nearly every one of my neighbors has one color of crepe myrtles in their yard - white, fushia, red, light purple or pink. They are just gorgeous and start blooming right about now. The interesting thing about crepe myrtles is you can prune them to the trunk and they will spout new branches, flowers and all, each summer to just the height you want. Some have gigantic crepe myrtles in their yards, and others have several all pruned to a shorter height to keep their blossoms at eye level. Little more than a month ago, you'd find these pruned crepe myrtles everywhere and they looked so strange, with stumpy trunks all over town like someone had tried to kill them by removing all their branches. But then they sprout leafy branches and not long after those gorgeous blossoms hanging like grape clusters all over.

The crepe myrtle was made for this climate ... as are the azaleas, dogwoods, magnolias, gardenias, mimosas and roses. They thrive here, and beautifully. All these gorgeous blooms to bring a smile to my face, yet one of my most favorite flowering bushes can't grow here. It's the lilac. It's just too warm for it here. I miss seeing the hundreds of lilac bushes all over our former state residence of Wisconin. And I miss their amazing fragrance.

The crepe myrtle was designed for this growing zone, just like the lilac is for climates further north. Neither survive in the other's climate.

This got me thinking about Christ's church and how Paul compares its members to various parts of the body, each designed to do something different. He talks about it in 1 Corinthians 12. "God arranged the members in the body, each of them, as He chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be?" Paul asks in verses 18 and 19. An eye can't do an ear's job and an arm can't do the job of the brain and so on. He's expanding on his discussion of spiritual gifts and how God has created each person with specific gifts to do certain jobs for building up His Kingdom. Some have the gift of hospitality, service, leading, teaching, preaching, etc. Not everyone can do every gift.

Christian women's Bible study creator Beth Moore has laughing recalled how when she was first called by God to a ministry, she thought she was to be a singer. She is an outstanding Bible Study writer, and I have been blessed by her more than a dozen thorough studies. I know I am further along in my spiritual life because of her Bible studies, there's no doubt. How much I would have missed if she would have become a singer! Her success would have probably been the same as my tropical palm tree that didn't survive our 17-degree temperatures this winter.

Then I think of the late Rich Mullins whose gift it certainly was to write and sing Christian music. You are probably aware of his classic song "Awesome God." It was his song "Calling Out Your Name" that brought me deep into the fold of Christian music ... eventually leading me years later to a new ministry as a midday host of a Christian music station.

Praise God for our different spiritual gifts! Praise God for how we use those gifts to bring God's children into a deeper relationship with Him!

What are your talents? How can you use those gifts to glorify our Father and encourage His precious children? If we develop those areas, those ministries will grow and flourish ... like crepe myrtles in Alabama or lilacs in Wisconsin, just as God arranged.

A Chance to Die

I remember crying the first time I heard this quote. It was in the 2006 movie "The Last Holiday" starring Queen Latifah. She played a woman who learns she's got just weeks to live. She says while looking in the mirror at herself: "Next time, we will laugh more, we'll love more, we just won't be so afraid."

For the last year or so, I've been afraid. Paralyzed with fear, actually. I went through a period in my life of doing something the Lord asked me to and got spiritually pummeled for it. I was beaten down so badly, that I withdrew from a lot I'd invested in, because it was safer not to try. You don't get hurt when you don't step out, was my rational.

Today I read two devotions that brought me to tears again. One was from the Upper Room for April 29, 2010 by Ebenezer R. Vedamuthu. It spoke about obeying God to "move into deeper waters" like Peter did in Luke 5:4. It asked: "How will we respond when God calls us to go deeper? Will we stay where we feel comfortable and safe, in shallow waters ... or are we ready to put our hand trustingly in God's and venture into greater spiritual depths? The reward will be worth it - a richer, more intimate walk with God and a more abundant life."

The second came from Our Daily Bread. In the April 28 devotion by Anne Cetas she tells the story of Amy Carmichael, a missionary in India for 55 years. When asked about her life, Amy responded: "Missionary life is simply a chance to die." It was then I started weeping.

I have commented often that I cannot wait to get to Paradise to be with the Father. Truly, I can completely relate when Paul says in Phil. 1:21, "For me, to live is Christ and to die is gain." The problem was, I was forgetting to live.

While walking today, God is His perfectness, had a song come up on my ipod I've heard countless times. It's called "The Untitled Hymn" or "Come to Jesus." The song tells of a true spiritual journey ... sin, burdens, fear, loneliness, pain, storms, love, joy and eternal life with Christ. What I don't think I noticed before was that every single stanza ends with the same word ... live. "Fall on Jesus and live!" "Come to Jesus and live." "Cry to Jesus and live." "Dance for Jesus and live. "Sing to Jesus and live." "Fly to Jesus and live." In many ways, I'd forgotten about the living part.

A missionary's life is simply a chance to die. Every one of us is a missionary, whether in some other country in the world speaking to the children of God, or in our homes, workplaces, churches and communities. Everywhere we are is our mission field. If we are paralyzed with fear to step out into paths the Father leads us, we are missing out on prime missionary opportunities. And, yes, we're gonna fall and fail. But isn't that what living for Christ is about! It's a chance to die! Die to self for Jesus for His Kingdom, for His children. The Our Daily Bread devotion brought up Matt. 16:25 "Whoever desires to save his life with lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it."

It's time to start living again.

[image: Untitled Hymn/Come to Jesus by Chris Rice]

Dear Grandma

Dear Grandma,

I know it's been a long time since you've received a letter from me ,,, years and years. I've been very busy. Busy with life, as always. Enjoying my husband that you love and approve of so much. Enjoying my precious children and their growth and changes. Busy with home and job. And, of course, devoted to church just as you exemplified.

I'm writing to tell you about my garden! I can't tell you how much I enjoy digging in the earth, planting seedlings, watering, weeding, watching everything grow and then enjoying the harvest. I just love it! This year, I planted tomatoes, corn, green beans (which the bunnies seem to be leaving alone thus far), spinach, herbs like thyme, basil, cilantro and lemon mint and, most recently, asparagus crowns. They are two year old crowns, so it will be a year before I can enjoy that harvest. But you know I got my love of asparagus from my father who in turn got it from your father. He has told me often about Great-Grandpa's fresh asparagus for breakfast every morning when he visited as a child. I can't wait for that myself! I remember how much you love gardening, Grandma. I remember how in every letter you wrote me while growing up, you told me about your garden, everything you planted, how you were caring for it.

Which comes to the second reason for my letter today ... an apology. I remember being bored out of my mind when reading those letters. I used to think to myself, "Is that all she'll talk about is that garden?" I am so sorry for thinking that. Because, Grandma, I would so love to receive a letter from you today about your garden. I would love to get your advice on mine! Matter of fact, I would love to garden with you, dig in the dirt and watch with joy the fruit of our labor. I'm so sorry I didn't appreciate those letters when I had them.

Grandma, I'm sure you are delighting in the greatest garden of all time now, surrounded by beauty I cannot even imagine. I truly cannot wait to see what you see. Until then, I will put on my overalls and gardening gloves, grab my shovel and gladly continue to till our Father's earth. And I will share this love with my children and, hopefully someday, my grandchildren. And they will probably get bored when my letters go on about my garden. But you know, Grandma, I won't mind. Because when I write those parts, I'll be thinking of you, knowing someday, they may enjoy what we have both had so much fun with. And planting seeds not just for a garden, but for the many other things you helped grow in me.

I love you, Grandma, and miss you ... really miss you. Give Grandpa and Jesus a hug for me.

Love, Jill

Greater Works Than These

Brad and I had a rummage sale in February to rid ourselves of a bunch of stuff we just didn't need anymore or couldn't fit into our Alabama home. I truly hate to hold rummage sales because it's so much work for so little profit, typically. But we went ahead with what I'll now call our very last rummage sale ever.

We selected the date making sure that it would not rain that day. With all we had, we knew we couldn't keep it all under shelter. It was a brisk day, but no rain was on the horizon. Then we saw it, off in the northwest, a dark forboding front headed our way. It started sprinkling, then sprinkling harder. I couldn't believe our luck. I started praying something like this "Come on, Lord, are you kidding?" I quick ran in the house to grab some towels and sheets to cover everything and prevent as much water damage as possible, and the sprinkles kept coming. As I saw no break in the clouds, I remembered Jesus' words in Mark 11:23 "Truly, I tell you, if you say to this mountain, 'Be taken up and thrown into the sea,' and if you do not doubt in your heart, but believe that what you say will come to pass, it will be done for you." And I also remembered John 14:12: "Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these because I am going to the Father."

I remembered those great works of Christ: healings, multiplications of fish and bread, water to wine, raising the dead ... and calming storms. So with confidence I said, "In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I rebuke you storm. You cannot rain here." It continued sprinkling. I looked up to Heaven and said grumbling, "Thanks, a lot."

Brad suddenly ran out of the house. "You would not believe what I just saw! I went to the Weather Channel website and typed in our address to see how much more of this storm was headed our direction. There was a huge red spot on the radar headed right for us. It suddenly made an abrupt turn, went around our street, then got back into the same path it had before and headed south."

My jaw dropped. A beastly storm was headed right for our rummage sale, and the Father knocked it out of the way. Those sprinkles, which lasted only a few more seconds, were nothing compared to what we could have had. God had answered my prayer in a mighty way. Jesus was right.

Jesus was right! Do you see the significance of this? In Christ's name, me, Jill Zimanek, wife, mom, sinful human, stopped a storm! Christ said we could do greater things than what He did on earth if we believed so that God would be glorified through Him. This morning I realized I'd shared that story with several people, but not to the extent that God's children should have heard. Now isn't that something worth glorifying Him for! He makes promises and keeps them. He loves us. He truly is the coolest God ever. Praise you, Almighty Father!

We can move mountains in Christ's name ... just believe.

Complete Coverage

Experience has taught our family that anytime you are at the beach, cover yourself from head to toe in sunscreen ... and I mean head to toe. Before even stepping out on the sand, our backs, faces, the part in our hair, ears, tops of our feet and even under the fabric edge of our swimsuits are covered in sunscreen. I use 85 spf. At the very least, we're rubbing 30 spf on. When we get sweaty or wet from the salty sea, we reapply. We're religious about it.

That doesn't mean we don't miss spots, however. The end of the day is quite revealing as we may have missed the spot under our forearm, the left side of our neck or even our knees. Once Ayla put her own lotion on her back and you could see her handprint where she stopped putting sunscreen on. Sure enough, those spots we missed are bright red and hot to the touch. It's interesting that something that only takes a few minutes to do saves us days of pain, not to mention the potential for skin cancer.

Applying sunscreen to prevent burn is similar to arming ourselves spiritually. We need to be sure to cover everything. Are we praying regularly? Are we immersing ourselves in Scripture? Are we worshipping regularly? Are we surrounding ourselves with believers? Are we reaching out in Christian love to God's children? Are we telling others about the grace of God? This time of focusing on our Lord is not for His benefit ... it's for ours. This world is trying everyday to get us to become of it and not just in it, to push our Christianity to the side and embrace whatever culture throws at us. Satan hunts for the unprotected spots; the places where we allow temptation to lure us. It's a never-ending battle, but God promises us that if we obey Him and keep the faith, we will be victorious.

I once saw a church sign that read: "Applying Sonscreen prevents burning." Indeed it does. It's certainly worth the time to apply it ... preventing a burn that doesn't just last a few days.

Even Nature Knows

For years we have traveled to Garden City, SC, to the condo of a dear friend, to enjoy our favorite vacation spot during Spring Break. We spend the week swimming in the ocean, collecting shells, sunbathing, building sandcastles, watching the dolphins leap by, feeding seagulls, avoiding jellyfish, delighting in sun and moonrises, catching anoles, starfish and coquinos, flying kites, playing football, frisbee or bocci or just praying, walking and breathing in the Good Lord at the ocean shore. We love to be there.

Typically when we go it falls on Holy Week. With Easter coming the Sunday following the first full moon after the spring equinox, we always get to see the full moon rise red out of the ocean then hover over a calm sea ... once with a halo and moonlight reflection in the ocean that looked like the cross of Christ.

But with all the fun we're having at the beach, often times we forget it's Holy Week. Never Easter, of course, but Maundy Thursday to celebrate the Last Supper and Good Friday often would succumb to sunny days at the beach, seafood buffets and late night dips in the hot tub.

Until one year we got a nice reminder from nature about the significance of the holiday. In 1999, we visited Garden City with Brad's parents and brother's family. We were having a great time together and the weather was so cooperative giving us warm temperatures and lots of sunshine. This particular Good Friday we were out on the beach as usual when suddenly a fog rolled in ... nothing like we'd ever seen before. It came out of nowhere thickly settling over the beach. It was so dense, we couldn't see the water anymore from our beach chairs. Brad and Anton were trying to play football and were having trouble seeing each other to catch. Looking at the time we noticed something interesting ... it was noon. We headed up to the condo to wait out the fog. And promptly at 3 p.m, it lifted. But the rest of the day remained gloomy. When we realized the fog was from noon-3 p.m, we realized the significance.

Luke 23:44-46 says: "It was now about noon and darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon while the sun's light failed and the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus crying with a loud voice said, "Father into your hands I commend my spirit." Having said this He breathed His last."

Good Friday was very different for us that day. We all took notice of what nature was trying to remind us: an innocent man suffered and died on a cross nearly 2,000 years before for our salvation. God came down from His throne in Heaven to die for us. That is some profound kind of love. It was overwhelming and deep for us all. And we have never forgot it.

Likewise, we have not forgotten our sunrise service on the beach one Easter morning a few years ago. As the seagulls began to cry with the dawn, the sun just peaking over the horizon, we burst into singing my favorite hymn, "Jesus Christ is Risen Today." The church we worshiped with that morning had a large wooden cross standing in the sand and the sun rose behind it. I took a picture of that moment and it's on this blog page all the time. It was a beautiful, breathtaking moment in time.

I am grateful to God for these reminders in nature of the importance of the events that week. A horrifying death ... and triumphant, glorious life!