Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

A Pre-Game Talk for Dad

dad and meToday my dad is being sworn in as a judge. He’d prefer not to have the spotlight on him, and if I tried to say something nice to his face, he would most likely crack a joke. So I’m writing down my words to him instead.

***

Dad, you have always been the one in the stands, cheering for your kids. You still have your “wall of fame” in your office, plastered with yellowed newspaper clippings you saved about our sports events and academic endeavors, along with the calendar we made for you years ago with pictures of us as kids. We’ve tried to tell you that the dates are all wrong now, but you insist on keeping it up.

You were our biggest fan, the dad who would leave work early so he could be there for every game and meet and recital. I always looked up to your spot in the bleachers, and without fail I’d find you there, giving me the secret family signal.

And now here we are in the audience as you stand at the front of the courtroom in a black judge’s robe with your hand on a Bible, so official as you get sworn in.

Before each of my basketball games, you’d give me a pre-game talk. Don’t be afraid to shoot. Be smart. This is your game. Think! The talk always ended with your trademark fist bump. And now, what words can I offer you on this day, as you prepare to discern cases and bring justice to your corner of the world?

I know that God has already given you what you need for this role. I know, because I’ve been on the receiving end of your judicial gifts my whole life. Whenever I had a decision to make, I’d ask you what to do. I was convinced you knew everything, but (to my consternation) you never told me what to do. You’d help me work through it myself and then tell me, “Now go ask your mother.” And whenever I flubbed up, you gave me that rare combination of truth and love, justice and compassion.

So all I have for you in this pre-game moment is a prayer. A prayer that you will lean into this call you’ve been given. A prayer that you will spread your wings inside that judge’s robe and find that it was made precisely to fit you. A prayer that you will have the wisdom of Solomon to get to the heart of things. A prayer that your gavel will be part of making the Kingdom come in this world.

I will be in the stands, cheering you on.

Fist bump.

Grace Spotting: A Modern-Day Emancipator

Last month I attended the Global Leadership Summit hosted by Willow Creek. They had quite a lineup of speakers, from Jim Collins to Condoleezea Rice, but I was especially taken by a woman with a small voice and a big story.

When Pranitha Timothy was getting ready to graduate with her master’s degree in social work, she felt like God gave her a vision for life, straight from the words of Scripture. As she read these words from Isaiah 42, she sensed that God was speaking them afresh for her.

Look at my servant, whom I strengthen.

He is my chosen one, who pleases me.

I have put my Spirit upon him.

He will bring justice to the nations.

He will not shout

or raise his voice in public.

He will not crush the weakest reed

or put out a flickering candle.

He will bring justice to all who have been wronged.

He will not falter or lose heart

until justice prevails throughout the earth.

Even distant lands beyond the sea will wait for his instruction.

—Isaiah 42:1-4

But shortly after she sensed this call, tragedy struck: Pranitha was diagnosed with a brain tumor. Thankfully, the doctors were able to remove the tumor, and it turned out to be benign. But in the process, she lost movement in 60 percent of her face and she no longer had feeling in her shoulder and neck. Worst of all, she could no longer speak. This woman with a dream for justice suddenly found herself mute.

Shattered, Pranitha returned to the Isaiah passage, asking God why he would give her this vision only to snatch it away before she could even begin. But upon closer reading, she was struck anew by certain parts of the passage: God’s servant “will not shout or raise his voice….He will not falter or lose heart.” Pranitha hardly dared to believe it, but what if God hadn’t revoked his call after all? What if it would just take a different form than she’d ever envisioned?

And so, after a period of recovery, Pranitha joined International Justice Mission and devoted her life to setting slaves free in her homeland of India. Over the years she has gradually regained some range of movement in her body and face. And God has given her a voice—a thin, feeble voice, but a voice nonetheless.

To date, Pranitha has led more than 50 slave rescue operations with IJM. She serves as a legal witness, representing these individuals in court, and she has also developed an aftercare strategy to help freed slaves find healing and integrate back into society.

To Pranitha’s surprise, in God’s hands her weakness has become one of her greatest strengths. Her trials provide a kind of common ground with the slaves she seeks to help. When they see the struggles she herself has faced, an immediate connection is formed—a level of trust that is usually hard won from people whose lives have been consistently marked by fear and distrust. She can speak from firsthand experience about what it means to rely on God on a daily basis, from a place of desperate need. “This pain constantly reminds me every day that I need God,” she says.

As I sat enraptured by Pranitha’s stories of risking her life to set slaves free, I was reminded of God’s heart for captives. I, too, was a slave to sin, trapped and full of fear. Christ risked everything to come to my rescue and break me out of my chains.  He defended me before my accusers, and he continues to take care of me after I’ve been set free.

It is because of grace that I’ve been set free. And it’s because of grace that he calls me to set other captives free too.

That’s Not Fair!

My sister is eight years younger than me, which gave me a tactical advantage over her for a good four years (after which point she started keeping pace with me in every quantifiable way). But at some point before she wised up, when she was old enough to appreciate having money in her piggy bank but young enough to be lacking some key fiscal principles, I used the age gap to my advantage.

We had just met one of Dad’s friends, Roger, who had collected a massive bag of loose change from his car and given it to us. Jackpot! As the oldest, I took it upon myself to distribute the money among the three of us kids. After all the coins had been split evenly, inspiration struck.

“Meghan,” I said, “wanna trade?” She looked at me skeptically. “I’ll give you all my big bronze coins for your little silver ones.” She agreed, and my plan worked flawlessly…until we got home and Meghan dashed inside to share the news of her trades with Mom. At that point Mom ordered all the pennies and dimes to be swapped back, along with an “abuse of power” tax from my stash.

The truth is, trades tend to be sketchy business. As adults, we are wary of the inevitable catch; we know that the other person is in it for what they can get out of the deal.

As I read Isaiah, I’m amazed how many times God talks about trades that will take place when he comes to redeem his people. From a human perspective, God’s trades seem too good to be true. We bring God everything we have, but even our best offerings are worthless. And yet God doesn’t hesitate to take our ugly things on himself and give us the good things that are in his hands—things of beauty and great value.

In the book of Isaiah, we read about God’s mind-boggling trades—the gifts he gives us in exchange for our worthless things:

Gold for bronze

Silver for iron

Bronze for wood

A crown of beauty for ashes

Blessing for mourning

A double blessing instead of shame

(See Isaiah 60:17 and Isaiah 61:3.)

We hand him our sin, and he gives us salvation. We give him our brokenness, and he gives us healing. We extend our unworthiness, and he bestows on us his grace.

I was at a Vacation Bible School event for fifth and sixth graders recently, and they were singing—or more accurately screaming—the words to this song as they ran and danced around the sanctuary:

I’m trading my sorrows

I’m trading my shame

I’m laying them down for the joy of the Lord

I want to have that same kind of boundless joy as I remember the trade God has made with me. It was the ultimate unfair trade. In an unprecedented move, the one with the power took the loss himself… and gave us everything instead.

I’ve taken the challenge of reading the Bible chronologically this year and tracing the thread of grace through it. These musings are prompted by my reading. I’d love to have you join me: One Year Bible reading plan.

An Ice Cream for an Ice Cream

One of my earliest memories was something that happened when I was almost four years old, and it involves ice cream. Now before you conjure up an idyllic scene of childhood nostalgia, I should warn you that this isn’t, for the most part, a particularly sweet memory.

My family was on vacation, and we’d stopped for ice cream, a rare treat for us since at that point in my life, Mom had me pretty much convinced that fruit constituted dessert.

I remember standing on the porch outside the ice cream shop, licking my vanilla soft serve and lost in my own dream world. Meanwhile I must have been backing up, oblivious to the older gentleman behind me with a sundae in his hand, because before I knew it, I heard the sickening sound of ice cream hitting pavement. Then the man was yelling angry words, alternately at me and then at my parents. He had lost his ice cream, and he was demanding justice.

I’ve often had trouble reconciling the Old Testament’s portrayal of God’s justice with the picture of grace painted in the New Testament. The book of Deuteronomy captures the idea of divine retribution in this often quoted verse: “You must show no pity for the guilty! Your rule should be life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot” (Deuteronomy 19:21).

It makes sense that when a wrong has been done, payment is required. Things need to be made right again. But how does that jive with Jesus’ words in the New Testament that God is a God of love, that we should turn the other cheek?

But if God is immutable, constant, unchanging, then clearly his character didn’t shift somewhere between Malachi and Matthew. Maybe what’s at issue here is my understanding of grace.

Grace, upon closer examination, isn’t so much about letting other people off the hook (or getting off the hook ourselves). It doesn’t mean justice is negated. It means that the payment for a wrong is made by someone other than the one who owes the debt.

At three and a half, I never would have been able to pay for the grumpy old man’s ice cream, even if I’d had access to all the pennies in my piggy bank. Fortunately, my dad took the man by the elbow, led him back into the shop, and bought him a replacement sundae.

In doing so, Dad managed to fulfill both the law of justice and the demand of grace. The obligation for the ice cream was paid in full: an eye for an eye, or as they case may be, an ice cream for an ice cream. And I received the grace of having a debt covered on my behalf, by my father.

That’s just what our heavenly Father has done for us through Christ: his eye for our eye, his tooth for our tooth, his hand for our hand, his foot for our foot.

Paid in full. For all eternity.

I’ve taken the challenge of reading the Bible chronologically this year and tracing the thread of grace through it. These musings are prompted by my reading. I’d love to have you join me: One Year Bible reading plan.