The Flog – The Fabry Log

I wrote a blog last week that a few of you responded to. I wanted to adapt that to our program today, so here is the gist of what I said. You can read the entire blog below if you'd like.

I talked about our Christmas of 2008 and what a disaster it was. We had mounting pressure on all sides, not the least of which was our health. We had a mountain of medical bills and no clear direction. The world was one big question mark with a lot of little question marks behind every cactus.

Sometimes life can’t be spun. All of the little things that happened to discourage us seem distant now, and this Christmas was so much better, but most of the question marks are still there. There is this feeling we get that I call the "if onlys." If only I didn't have this situation. If only I didn't have this spouse. If only I didn't have these bills. If only I had a better car.

That's why I like the message of Christmas. Jesus burst through the barrier between heaven and earth and tossed the "if onlys" out of the manger. His father had questions. His mother had questions. I'm sure his brothers and sisters wondered about him. When they had to flee south to Egypt to protect the baby, I'm sure they wondered why that road was not easy.

They did not know the whole plan. They did not know "why." Their lives could not be spun any more than yours or mine. I think that’s the way God keeps us on the path. We only know one step at a time. He wants to keep us close to Himself so we don’t stray. In truth, the questions keep us right where we need to be. Dependent. Not relying on ourselves, our strength, intellect, or sufficiency, but on His strength and guidance and mercy. The star pointing the way.

God is the author of our question marks. If you’re struggling with life and if things have not turned out like you had planned, it’s okay. You’re in good company with most of the people in the Bible. You’re in good company with Joseph and Mary.

Ask your questions. Questions are a gift from the God who created us.

Last Christmas was the worst any of us can remember. We were trying to figure out how to treat the children for the mold exposure, wondering what the future held for our possessions, suffering through a lot of pain and loss, and in a new city far from friends, family, and anything familiar.

Medical bills were threatening. A mountain of them already. There was no clear direction. The world was one big question mark with a lot of little question marks behind every cactus.

We didn’t have the energy or the money to “do” Christmas. So on Christmas Eve we went to Walmart and told the kids, “Pick out one thing you really want.”

They did.

Then we went back to the house we were renting and while the little kids played with their toys and the older kids stood in a daze, Andrea cried. I think that’s how it happened, I’m not sure. Andrea cried a lot during those days. It wasn’t Christmas Eve at the Emergency Room but it was close.

The next day we woke up and tried to put a new spin on life, but we couldn’t. Sometimes life can’t be spun. Our big outing was dinner. We found a restaurant that was open and everyone agreed to, but then we got lost and couldn’t find it.

We wound up at Denny’s.

Nothing against Denny’s, but it was crowded and there were people eating, leaving, being replaced by other people and our food remained absent. We dosed Colin for his insulin and then he went low so we had to get some orange juice to bring him up and then he went high. The kids got crabby. Our server was on a smoke break, I think. It was just a disaster.

This year is better. Some of the question marks are gone, but most are still there. We’ve actually done shopping and have a little tree. The kids made ornaments out of dough and put them over the fireplace. Friends and family have given generously and we have a few surprises up our sleeves. (Short sleeves because it’s Arizona.)

But I was thinking this morning about another couple with a little baby who had a lot of questions. They were in a small town because they had to be. There was grave danger that caused them to flee south to Egypt to keep their child safe. The road ahead was not going to be easy for them. And Mary had some knowledge but she didn’t understand the whole plan. Their lives could not be spun any more than yours or mine.

I think that’s the way God keeps us on the path. We only know one step at a time. He wants to keep us close to Himself so we don’t stray. In truth, the questions keep us right where we need to be. Dependent. Not relying on ourselves, our strength, intellect, or sufficiency, but on His strength and guidance and mercy. The star pointing the way.

I would rather have Christmas dinner at Denny’s with a million questions about life than have the perfect Christmas with every need satisfied and no questions. God is the author of our question marks.

If you’re struggling this Christmas, and if things have not turned out like you had planned, it’s okay. You’re in good company with most of the people in the Bible. You’re in good company with Joseph and Mary. Pull up a chair and have a warm cup of coffee.

Ask your questions.

They are a gift.

Merry Christmas! The show on Tuesday is a command performance from earlier this month, so I've reposted the following blog for you. I hope you and your loved ones have a really meaningful Christmas this year. May God bless you with unity and love and laughter.

Here's the blog from 12/4/09.

I have a new wish list this Christmas. Usually I don’t like to have someone buy clothes for me. I buy what’s comfortable. Plus, I like games and toys and gadgets and things you can actually play with after you open them up. Clothes make me yawn. Clothes are so…useful. They’re with me all the time. I want something special at Christmas.

But the more Christmases I experience, the more I wonder if I really understand what it means that God came to earth. I know that in my head. I believe it in my heart. Still, I can’t grasp it.

So as I have pondered more about the incarnation this year, I have decided to let you in on my list. We are told in scripture to put off certain things and clothe ourselves with certain other things. When Jesus came to earth, he unclothed himself of the spectacle of heaven. You and I grasp at power and position. He let it go and clothed himself in human flesh. He humbled himself and voluntarily put aside what he could easily have kept. What was his right to keep. And he did it out of obedience to the Father. He did it because of his love for you and me.

Here is what you and I need to put off. Greed. Evil desires. Impurity. Lust. Sexual immorality. Anger. Rage. Malice. Slander. Filthy language. Lying.

Does any of that sound like your workplace? Maybe a church meeting?

All of these things and more are part of the nature you and I were given by the first man, Adam. But in Christ, we have an alternative. Because he put on flesh, we can also put on a new nature.
Want to know what that’s like? What’s it like to live in a home where there is rage and anger and malice and impurity? Maybe you do.

This Christmas, and every day, we have an entirely new wardrobe available not because of Christ’s good example or a wish we may have, but because of his sacrifice. The power to put these clothes on and wear them comes from him.

Let’s deal with undergarments, for these are the first things we put on each day. The T-shirt and boxers. I call these the underwear of humility. For at the heart of every person who really wants to follow God, you have to understand who you are in relation to him. And don't make the T-shirt a V-neck, I want one that covers everything.

Now I love new socks, so I want a whole package of them. I want to shod my feet with the socks of Kindness this year. So I have humility close to me and I have kindness with every step.

Now for the dress shirt, I’d like something by Croft and Barrow (I love saying that), with a button down collar of Compassion. For slacks, might as well make them pleated and woven with patience. And even though I’ve lost weight, I need a belt. Gird me with the belt of gentleness.

So I have Humility close to me. I wear kindness on my feet. I have compassion, patience, and gentleness, all because of the new nature we are offered in Christ. All because he not only came to earth and lived as one of us and had a perfect record, he also gave himself as a ransom.

What are the results of this new clothing. Well, sure, I can look good. But even more important, where once there was strife and division in my life, I am given the ability to bear with those closest to me. I am able to forgive whatever grievances I may have with someone else. I forgive, I can have compassion, because not only am I wearing compassion, but I have been worn out by the compassion of God to me.

Now, what is missing? Ah, the sport coat. (Of course, this works with females and dresses and skirts. Or you could toss in a scarf.) Whatever you wear over all that I have just described, I put on the coat of love. This is what makes everything work together, because sometimes compassion can clash with patience. But the coat binds all of these things together. Love is the scarlet thread through this new nature, this new suit of clothing.

This is what I want to unwrap this Christmas. Not a Wii or a Nintendo or Playstation. And the good news is, they’re available to me right now. And I can unwrap them any time I’d like because of what God has done.

But it’s not enough for me to unwrap them and just to have the clothes hanging in the closet. Unless I put them on, they do me no good. Access is not what it’s about. I get the benefits of the outfit only when I wear them.

Where should I wear them? I’ll wear them when my teenager has an accident and sends my insurance higher. I’ll wear them when someone at work upsets me and treats me in an unkind way. I’ll wear them when my neighbor says bad things about my fence. I’ll wear them to church even though I’d rather leave the love at home.

There’s not a place on the planet where this new suit won’t be in style. Down in the trenches with friends who are having marriage troubles, or at a football game cheering my favorite team. They are perfectly suited for any occasion, though I dare say, there may be some places you wouldn’t want to wear this suit. You might be tempted to take it off and wear something else. My guess is, if I’m in that situation, I should either not go to that place or I should keep my new clothing on.

My prayer and hope this Christmas is that I will remember this new suit Christ offers. And that each day I will put on these clothes one piece at a time, for my sake, for the sake of those I love, and for His sake.

Enjoy the suit this Christmas with those you love and remember they never wear out.

I married Andrea Kessel on December 18, 1982. She cried that day. At least I think she did. My eyes were pretty blurry as we exchanged vows.

I remember the hotel room six months later. It was on the south side of Chicago. She was curled up in a ball on the bed, weeping because we had no place to stay. We had sublet an apartment from a young lady, north of Moody, and when we arrived with all of our worldly possessions in the back of a 1978 Toyota Corolla (that was a great car), the lady changed her mind. Gave us all our money back in cash in an envelope at a restaurant. Every night there were tears. A few days later we were in an apartment on campus at Moody that had miraculously become available. There were tears of gratitude.

Andrea cried every time she held her newborn children. She also screamed at me and told me never to do this again to her. But then she’d see that little lump of flesh and hold it for the first time and all the pain melted, if only for a moment.

I remember other dark days of tears, when she didn’t think we were going to make it. When she wanted more in the marriage and I had no idea what she was talking about. She had vision through the tears.

She cried when we left our little home in Bolingbrook, Illinois and drove west to see what God would have for us there. She cried over lost friends once we got to Colorado because it took so long to make new ones.

She wept bitterly over sick children and the unexplainable illnesses they had contracted in Colorado. She spent sleepless nights looking for answers on the Internet, working through the tears and finally finding the truth. Tears can help you do that.

She cried the night we vacated out of our house for good. And every night immediately following. Those were desperate tears that seemed hollow and unseen by God.

She’s cried a lot in the desert, separated from friends, lost in decisions, searching for a way.

Tears can draw you close to God. They can also bring you closer together with the one you love. Of course, tears can tear you apart as well. There's no magic in the tears themselves. There’s something underneath them, a well from which they spring.

That well is the heart. Once it turns toward something, an objective, a desire, a passion, a person, it is difficult to thwart. It is difficult to kill. It beats on with purpose. That's where tears originate. Andrea’s tears have watered our marriage. Her heart is magic.

Today we celebrate 27 years together. I’m thankful for the laughter. I’m thankful for the times of joy. But I wouldn’t trade the tears. When they spring from a heart of love, tears can change the world. They can change destinies. They are the overflow of the prayers of worried parents and injured spouses. They fall because we are alive, because we are made in the image of the author of tears.

I don’t pray for tears. I don’t ask God for more. But they come anyway. And I'm comforted to know they are from him and are ultimately for his glory.

I’ll bet she’s wiping one away as she reads this. That’s just the way she is.

Here's a Christmas present for you. Back in the 1990s, I hosted a morning program with Greg Wheatley called Mornings with Greg and Chris. We did some really goofy things, but none goofier than a spoof of "It's A Wonderful Life," featuring Greg as Uncle Billy, Diana Berryman as narrator, and the inimitable Monte Larrick as Mr. Potter. Click here and you can hear our rendition of this classic Christmas tale. And let me know what you think of my imitation of Jimmy Stewart at the end.

In September, when the sun was hot and my “studio” reached the upper 80s each day, a crew from CBN News came to our rental house and shot video for a story that will air Wednesday, 12/9. It’s a six minute piece that tries to encapsulate our lives in the last 3 years. If you miss it, we’ll have the video on my website, ChrisFabry.com.

A word about how the reporter, Heather Sells, found out about us. Heather’s niece lives in Wheaton, Illinois, and listens to WMBI in Chicago. The niece told her mother that “Aunt Heather” ought to do a story on the Fabrys. Heather began reading my blog and heard some of the radio show and became interested in our journey.

I think the report takes a lot of information and tells the story of our plight pretty well. It gives an overview of what we’ve been through and even shows us walking in the desert. Heather put a lot of work into those six minutes.

Over the past few days I’ve been looking at our bare walls here. There are shots in the video of our home in Colorado. They show how much Andrea put into the house. Her creativity and design abilities surfaced. But now we’re focused on other things than decorating. Things like getting physically well again. Eating well. She spends so much time in the kitchen, preparing meals and lining up the herbs and supplements and juices for the kids, that we don’t have time to hang pictures—plus, we don’t have any pictures. The art work we see is what God is doing in our lives.

I hope you get to see the story. You’ll get a glimpse of our journey and be able to put a face with the voice.

I must add that one lawyer cautioned us not to do this interview. He also said we shouldn’t be blogging or talking on the radio about it. Since we are involved in legal action in Colorado, anything we say or that is said about our situation, can be used against us. To that Andrea and I have said all along, so be it. There is something much bigger in our story than what happened at the house. I really believe the pain and hardship we’ve been through, the things meant to tear us down and that could have destroyed our lives, were meant for ultimate good. If one person can be kept from that kind of experience because of our story, we want to tell the truth in all of its ugly glory.

I hope someone sees our story and wonders, “What makes those people keep going?” It’s because God has given us this experience for a reason, to showcase his strength in weakness. To give hope amid some hopeless days. To know that God is still in control, even though the events that surround us make little sense.