Forgiveness

DISCLAIMER: Over the last several months, I have been encouraged to write regularly about the accident from 2004. I am working my way through writing a book about the incident. So, every Tuesday, I've taken the opportunity to write, remember and share snapshots of that tragic event.

I've mentioned before the opportunity I had to speak at the hospital in Savannah where Josh died. It was just 8 months after the accident. There were a lot of "God-type" events that happened that day. Some key relationships were begun. I got to know some significant people who were there the five days that Josh was in the hospital. It opened the door to one of the ministries that I carry on now through Ridley Barron Ministries. Maybe the most memorable moment came at the end, though.

I was making my way up the left side of the auditorium and taking the time to greet some of the people who had attended. As I looked up the stairs, there was a young lady in a pharmacist's jacket making her way towards me. Her eyes were red and watery. She offered her hand to me and I remember thinking, "Is this the woman whose error cost Josh his life?" She began by introducing herself and, as if she were reading my mind, she said, "I'm not the pharmacist who made the error." I think I made an audible sigh.

She continued. "But I am a very good friend of hers." She went on to explain that her friend wanted to be there that morning but she had responsibilities with her daughter. She finished by saying, "I know she would love to hear that you forgive her."

My heart sank. One of the first things I had asked to be communicated to the lady after Josh's death was that I forgave her. Now I was hearing that, eight months later, she had never received that message. I asked the young lady standing before me to get a copy of the presentation and make sure she saw it. She agreed.

Two weeks later, I was standing in my kitchen in Franklin, TN. I was preparing dinner for the kids as the phone rang. I picked up the phone and from the other end of the line I heard a quiet voice say, "Mr. Barron. My name is _________. I'm the pharmacist from Savannah." She began to cry.

I cried with her.

We talked for just a little while. She had called to say that she had seen the DVD and she had heard my offer of forgiveness. I apologized that my message had not reached her sooner, that her forgiveness had been so long in coming. I even encouraged her to live the rest of her life knowing that I held no ill will towards her, no bitterness for what had been an honest mistake.

I don't know if this is possible over a phone line but I heard a weight get lifted from her shoulders. The tone of her voice changed from that of a burdened heart to someone who had been set free.

That's the power of forgiveness. That's the power that you and I have to offer each other. I had seen it before with other incidents in my life but never to this degree. Some people thrive on bitterness. They love to believe that, by wielding its power, they can control the life of someone who has wronged them. Nothing is further from the truth. Bitterness is not controlled...it is controlling. And the freedom that comes from offering grace to someone else is not just for the one who made the error. It is for the one who has been wronged as well.

Search your heart. Every corner. Look for those places where you have held so tightly to your pain and anger that you've become blind to what it does to you. It's a poison. It kills you slowly. And the only cure is the one that God gave to us:

Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you. Ephesians 4:32 NLT

Risky

It's been one of those days where God is obviously trying to tell me something. Being the hard-head that I am, He sometimes has to put the message before me in about ten different forms or bring it from about five different messengers. Today, it's been a quiet time with Lisa, my personal quiet time at work, a study I'm doing, a message I heard preached on the Internet and a conversation with my staff. How's that for getting the message across to me?

God has been talking with me about radical life changes, about trusting Him more, about living recklessly in the arms of a powerful God--all of it very exciting and scary stuff. He's been challenging my heart on letting go of safety nets. He's been speaking to me of courage. He's been sending resounding messages of living out on the edge of faith and daring to do more. More than anything, this is what I have taken away from it all...if I am to live out my life to fulfill God's calling for me, I have to stop fearing failure and start fearing the fact that I may not risk enough.

Lisa and I talk a good deal in our house about making it a place of grace. I want our home to be a place where failure is not punished, rather, it is seen as a mentor to teach us about life. I get it wrong. Shocking, I know. I mess up. But I'd rather mess up royally in the attempt to live a faith-filled life than to sum up my life's existence by being "safe." I think that's what God is saying to me.

How about you?

You see, God is always talking to you. Are you listening? I admit I'm not real good at this. Too often my prayers are monologues rather than dialogues which leaves me sitting on a log doing nothing (Did you like that? I just made that one up. But it's true). I get paralyzed in my faith because I fall out of the habit of listening for His voice. Hope that doesn't describe you today. But if it does, take the time to pull away, to get back into the habit of listening. You'll find that God has promised to lead you and to go with you as you attempt to live out His plan for your life.

NOTE TO MY RCC READERS: Don't forget the secret church, coming up November 5. If you haven't cleared your schedule for that special night, you'll want to do that. I hope to see you there.

Nutrias

So we're sitting on the couch watching Billy the Exterminator last night. If you've never seen Billy, you need to give it a shot. You owe it to yourself. This is absolutely the most intense and passionate pest control man I've ever seen. Only Billy can build drama around sucking cockroaches out of the walls. Imagine Gothic world meets Redneck village.

Anyway, Billy is building up the drama about nutrias. Apparently, these are over-sized rodents were brought to Louisiana from South America in an attempt to breed the animals for their fur. Anything to make a dime, right?

Well, according to Billy (it sounds funny just referencing the guy but he seems to be pretty knowledgeable about things like overgrown rodents) there were only about 20 or so nutrias brought to America in the 1930s. Today, there are over 1 million of the critters. And they are destroying property and crops wherever they move in.

Seems like, when it comes to rodents, to give in just a little opens the door to a whole lot of problems.

The same is true with compromise. Let's be honest. The race to be "holy as God is holy" is not an easy one. It's long. It's hard. It's frustrating. But it's a daily battle for holiness that we are called to fight. And what I am learning from my life and watching others--including Billy--is this...compromise can lead to catastrophe. Whether you're talking about mice or morality, pests or purity--opening the door to one bad choice can lead you down a path of self-destruction. Maybe that's why Paul encouraged us so intensely to fight the good fight and run the race without stopping. One minute you let down your guard and the next your life is filled with bad choices and their consequences.

The call from Scripture to those who choose to follow Christ is this...don't open the door to sin. Satan desires to have you and one small foothold is all he needs to ruin your life.

There is a lesson to be found in these nutrias. We can't open the door to sin, not even for just one moment.

Voice mail

DISCLAIMER: Over the last several weeks, I have been encouraged to write regularly about the accident from 2004. I am working my way through writing a book about the incident. So, every Tuesday, I've taken the opportunity to write, remember and share snapshots of that tragic event.

Last night, Lisa and I got the kids off to bed and decided to watch a movie. The movie follows the life of a young lady whose husband dies as the result of a brain tumor. It chronicles her life as she works to pick up the pieces of her world and learn to live again.

In one scene, the woman rushes into her apartment, picks up her cell phone and calls her husband's old number just to hear his voice on the mailbox greeting. I remembered the times that I used to do the same thing.

Sarah's phone was destroyed in the accident (I assume this because I don't remember ever seeing it afterwards). It wasn't until weeks later that a friend of ours confessed to me that she had been calling Sarah's old number just to hear her voice. I remember getting in the truck after that conversation and immediately grabbing my phone so I could do the same. It would be one of hundreds of times where I would do that. There were times when I just needed to hear her voice again. Sometimes, I would tuck the kids in bed at night and pull out my phone. Frustrated that her greeting wasn't longer, I'd play it over and over again--hitting the redial button.

Then came that fateful day when the voice went away. It was gone. The phone company finally gave the number away to someone else, some other voice. It was just another place of letting go that had to come for me.

It's like the first time I let Harrison swim alone in the pool. He was clinging so tightly to me. As long as he held me, he was fine. But as I lowered him into the water--swimmies and all--he dug in with his fingers, refusing to let go. Little did he understand the wonderful experience that awaited him if only he would let go. I had to pry his hands loose.

Sarah's voice was my attempt to hang on. Forget that God had other wonderful experiences for me. I simply wanted to hold onto the one that was comfortable, the one that brought me such great joy. Just like Harrison's holding on to me in the pool, it wasn't wrong or bad. It just was time to let go. It was time to move on to the next thing God had for me. At that time, it was being a single dad, embracing my chance to love on my kids and love on my church. I couldn't do what I had to for them as long as I continued to cling to Sarah. God knew that. He just needed to convince me.

I hope you're thinking through those things for yourself. I run into a lot of people who are still in the clinging stage. And I'm not just talking about losing someone you love to death. Maybe it's a marriage. Maybe it's a child that's grown and gone. Maybe you're clinging to an old career that gave you self-worth or a dream that refuses to die though you know you need to bury it. Learn to let go. Trust God. His plans can often be scary or intimidating. But they shouldn't be. He has a perfect plan, a wonderful plan that He has designed for you. A plan that is waiting to be discovered and embraced.

It begins with letting go.

Home

My heart is heavy this afternoon. Despite the fact that it is a beautiful fall day outside and things are going very well for the Barron family, my heart is burdened by tragic news. I got an email this morning from a lady in South Georgia. She was writing to share the news involving a pastor's family in Cairo, GA. Last Friday, October 8th, they were involved in an awful accident similar to the one that my family experienced in 2004. Their daughter, 4 year old Makiah, was killed instantly and her funeral service was this past Monday. I ask you to be in prayer for the King family.

It was just another reminder that this world is filled with hurt and pain. Every week I get emails and phone calls from people who have lost a loved one or been through a hurtful experience. Every week, my spirit hurts for people who have walked through hell and faced death. And every time I find myself "weighted down" by the emotions that come with living in this world.

That's why you and I can't live for "this world." It's not our home. It's not what we were meant to have. God desires to bring Himself glory by bringing us to a place that is far better than this. Far better. Unfortunately, few people get this so they labor in vain to build their kingdom here. Reality tells us that it's a worthless attempt to make this world something it can't be.

My grandmother got that. She walked this earth for 80 plus years loving her family, serving others, praying often and never losing sight of her final home. That's why, under the worst of situations, I think she stood tall. She knew Jesus was taking her some place better. When she died in 1995, just a few short weeks after Harrison was born, I was struck by the irony of one life entering the world as another precious one exited. So, at her funeral, I quoted the words to this old familiar hymn.

Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I am tired, I am weak, I am worn
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

When my way grows drear
Precious Lord linger near
When my life is almost gone
Hear my cry, hear my call
Hold my hand lest I fall
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

When the darkness appears
And the night draws near
And the day is past and gone
At the river I stand
Guide my feet, hold my hand
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

Precious Lord, take my hand
Lead me on, let me stand
I'm tired, I'm weak, I'm alone
Through the storm, through the night
Lead me on to the light
Take my hand precious Lord, lead me home

As my granny would say, "Thank the Lord this world is not my home. I'm just a passing through." With that in mind, I encourage you to make sure you are living your life in light of where you are headed...not where you are now.