Wars and Rumors of Wars

I turned on NPR as I drove home this morning at 6am. The most recent attacks on Israel were being discussed and it brought to mind this scripture:

“You will hear of wars and rumors of wars, but see to it that you are not alarmed. Such things must happen, but the end is still to come.” Matthew 24:6 NIV

It seems that each generation thinks they might be the last. I’m sure the writer of Matthew (whether it was Matthew or not) thought the end was near.

If I had to live through the atrocities of World War II and I had to see this wall being built, I would think the end is near.

I remember learning about the 171 people who tried to escape East Germany for the freedom of the west by traversing this wall.

It wasn’t all that long ago that the Berlin wall came down-a wall which had separated families, instituted communism and suffocated the spirits of so many German people.

I remember watching those same suffocated Germans dance on top of the wall, overcome with emotion that after 28 years, they were free.

If we are the last generation before Christ’s return, it’s hard for me to imagine the reality of a loud trumpet, Jesus on a white horse, angels in heaven singing and the dead in Christ rising first.

This does not compute with the same brain that raked leaves, did laundry and made bread this weekend. It’s two different worlds.

But this morning, hearing about the attack on Israel, the rockets that were destroyed mid-air, the death tolls in the hundreds and the insane animosity the Hamas terrorist have for the Israelis, it does make me wonder.

Could we be the last generation before He returns for his bride? And if so, am I living like He might return at any moment-waiting up with my lamp full of oil or am I messing around and not ready? (See scripture below)

Matthew 25:3-10
New International Version (NIV)
The foolish ones took their lamps but did not take any oil with them. The wise ones, however, took oil in jars along with their lamps. The bridegroom was a long time in coming, and they all became drowsy and fell asleep. “At midnight the cry rang out: ‘Here’s the bridegroom! Come out to meet him!’ “Then all the virgins woke up and trimmed their lamps. The foolish ones said to the wise, ‘Give us some of your oil; our lamps are going out.’ “‘No,’ they replied, ‘there may not be enough for both us and you. Instead, go to those who sell oil and buy some for yourselves.’ “But while they were on their way to buy the oil, the bridegroom arrived. The virgins who were ready went in with him to the wedding banquet. And the door was shut.

I don’t want the door to be shut on me, unless I’m inside with my bridegroom. What a horrible feeling to be shut out of eternity with the only One that ever loved me so much that He gave his life for me.

Don’t let these wars and rumors of wars worry you, “such things must happen”. But if you don’t know which side of the door you are on, email me (rebekahgreiman at gmail dot com) and let’s talk about it.

You Matter. Your Vote Matters. America Matters.

I am more than proud to be an American. I believe this is the greatest country to grow up in, to raise my children in and to believe in. Of course, it’s run by humans that are at times deeply flawed and selfish.

But, America is still amazing. And with July 4th right around the corner, I get a bit patriotic.

That’s not to say that my heart doesn’t long for my ancestral home from time to time.

My maiden name was “Matlach” (pronounced mat-lock) and then I married a “Greiman” (pronounced gry-man). My great-grandparents took a boat over to escape the impending WW1. There is still a Greimann farm (yep, the original spelling had two “n’s”) in Germany. I was born in Landstuhl, Germany and resided there for three years. My roomie and I treated ourselves to a European vacation upon graduation. Heck, I even speak German. We love beer, Wienerschnitzel and Lederhosen.

Could we get any more Kraut than that?

With our profound love for Germany, Biceps and I took a month long vacation to see as much of Europe as we could. As beautiful as many of the places were that we visited, I couldn’t shake the feeling that humanity had seen evil and had turned its head.

Hitler had come from nothing and became the German savior. He promised economic stability, had given hope to a people poor and disillusioned and had promised to rid the earth of the “Jewish problem”.

Under his regime millions of Jews, disabled and mentally unstable persons, Catholics, Soviets, Polish and more were murdered. The German people had given up and trusted Adolf implicitly.

This monument in Berlin was to remind the world of the grottos the Jews and the other “undesirables” were forced to live in for years. The monument was suffocating, confining and repetitive.

I remembered hearing about Check Point Charlie and all of those that died trying to cross through these gates, deliver Bibles, or just try to get information to their loved ones on the other side.

I remembered watching the Berlin wall being destroyed by fed up Germans in 1989 and I remembered hearing Reagan’s infamous words “Mr. Gorbachev, tear down this wall!”.

As beautiful as Germany is, as wonderful as my German heritage is, I am still thankful to be an American. We aren’t perfect, but we demand democracy. If we will only do our part and let our tiny little voices that live in Tulsa, Ok or Dayton, Oh or Murfreesboro, Tn or anywhere else be heard-we will continue on with our democratic system.

As soon as we decide our vote doesn’t matter, we have given up our rights and have been seduced to think we don’t matter–that the government will do what it wants.

America is wonderful-screwed up, messed up, and sometimes downright awful-but it’s ours. Don’t give it away to anyone else. Don’t turn your head and expect someone else to do something about it. Because you may not like what it is they do in your name.

You matter.

I will rise early and praise You.

My favorite time of the day is the early morning: the quietness of the world is calming to my own heart, the coffee is percolating-reinforcing that my home is my home, and the cats are a little frisky, but not overly frisky. They are just frisky enough to humor me.

My head is clear from yesterday’s worries. I may sit in bed for a few more minutes after Bicep’s has vacated the house, sip on my coffee and spend time with my God.

But, if the sunrise is too ridiculously awesome, I will hurriedly strap on my running shoes and a hoodie to begin my early morning run.

I take each mile to chat with God about someone in my family or in my circle of influence. It keeps my mind off of what I’m doing and helps me to focus on others, instead of myself.

He reminds me during our morning chats that He was around when the Romans built this. And, He was there to watch it crumble.

He was there when the Germans built this. And, He watched it fall.

He’s received millions into His kingdom, but hasn’t forgotten a single one of their names. Nor has He forgotten my name, or the names of those who don’t believe and He desperately wants to know.

He can be in my home, chatting it up with me while I cook dinner, or out on my runs, or when I hide in the closet because I’m frustrated. He never leaves me nor forsakes me.

And, He knows all my dirt and He’s forgiven me. And I have some dirt-just ask around.

He forgave me. Little old, tiny Tulsa girl, me.

He gave himself to be sacrificed in the most horrific way-beaten, flesh torn apart, humiliated, abandoned, and left for dead-so that I can be washed clean and be in His resurrected presence.
And he did this for you, too. And that person you don’t like very much. And that irritating slower-than-snot cashier at the grocery store.

That’s why I will rise early, with joy and praise Him. I can’t imagine living any other way.