Make the Call

Me and the Monday girls love us a good Beth Moore. We've done so many of her studies that's what we call them. A Beth Moore. Not a Beth Moore Bible Study.... just a Beth Moore. (Have you seen the new Beth Moore?) Over the years, Beth has helped this old girl become a voracious student of God's Word. And it has changed my life in more ways than I can tell. Plus, she has cute outfits.

We were doing James: Mercy Triumphs. According to Scripture, James was Mary and Joseph's son so that would make him and Jesus sort of half-brothers. Hard to imagine growing up sharing a room with the Son of God. And who could top the birth-story? Jesus' relationship with his earthly family was touchy at times. One minute they are trying to take hold of him because they think he's crazy and the next they're trying to get him to perform tricks. There's a point where they show up while he's teaching and send word for him to come outside and see them. He publicly "replaces" them with his disciples. “Who is My mother, and who are My brothers?” Pointing to His disciples, He said, “Here are My mother and My brothers. For whoever does the will of My Father in heaven is My brother and sister and mother.” (Matthew 12: 48-50) That must have stung.

But somewhere along the way, the earth-family became disciple-family, too. Double-family. Because in the first chapter of Acts - after Jesus ascended back into heaven, we find Mary and the brothers gathered with the disciples where they were "praying constantly." And there's this lovely little moment noted in I Corinthians 15:7 where it is revealed that Jesus went to see his little brother after the Resurrection. It's just a few words with no details: then he appeared to James. Maybe Paul - writer of I Corinthians heard the story from James himself, because James became the leader of the church in Jerusalem which became Paul's home church. Maybe he used it as a sermon illustration... "I have this brother. He came to see me after he rose from the dead." The point driven home to me by Beth Moore is this: Jesus didn't leave his family behind. He went back to get them.

I had/have a brother. Just me and him - sixteen years apart. He was/is this brilliant man. People admired him. People looked up to him. He was this dashing high-school football player who married his beautiful high-school sweetheart and became a high-school math teacher and coach. Family lore has it that he was offered a scholarship to play football at Dartmouth - this Alabama boy - but turned it down because it was too far away from home. He went on to have a stellar career in education before he retired. We weren't very close - the age difference and all - but I adored him. By the time I came along he was on his way out. I started first grade - he graduated from college. Mama and Daddy were what connected us. And while they were living, we stayed in touch. Then Mama and Daddy died. And I felt like the tether broke. I would call once in a while and he was always glad to hear from me. But he wasn't one to call me unless he had seen on the news a hurricane was headed our way. He would ask if we were ok and then hang up pretty quick. We didn't do holidays together. Except for this one Christmas when we drove and met them half way at a Cracker Barrel in Georgia for lunch. And we didn't see each other more than once every couple of years. We had the best time at one of my boys' wedding. I admit I had a pity party for a while and then just decided I was tired of feeling like the only one making an effort. I quit trying. It seemed like he didn't notice. I gathered up a family for myself - friends who became family.

Enter good old Beth Moore and her James Bible study. If you know anything about a Beth Moore, you know there's homework. Lots of it. She asks you to dig down where it hurts and think about hard things. This time she got to meddling about family. I was feeling pretty good that I did what Jesus did when he embraced his faith community as his family since his family wasn't ideal. Then she said Jesus didn't turn his back on his family. Case in point, he went to see James after the resurrection. And then she asked if we had any family we had left behind. Well, shoot. There I was all scabbed over and healing (I thought) and she got me to picking at the sores. I did feel alone. I did miss my brother. I did want to have a relationship with him. I still wanted him to be the one to reach out but the Monday girls kept on encouraging me. Call him. And I finally did. But there was no answer. I tried again and again through the early summer of 2012. I about gave up. Then on a Sunday morning in July I called and he picked up.

What I learned that day broke my heart. He had been in the hospital. He had tried to commit suicide. And I didn't know. I didn't know that he had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. That he had suffered for years. I was isolated - maybe because I was the baby - maybe because of distance - maybe because he was embarrassed. Maybe because he just didn't have the emotional energy to spare. Maybe because he still wanted to be the shining star I remembered. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe it wasn't about me. I wept. I told him I would be there for him. I prayed for him. Over the next few months I called him. Often. Never long conversations - just a few minutes here and there. And he began to end those conversations by saying, "I love you." Words I had longed to hear from him. I told him I loved him, too.

On December 11, 2012, my big brother, my hero, died. By his own hand. The battle he fought for years ended and I believe he is now at peace alongside Mama and Daddy. He told his pastor, "I am a Christian. I'm not a good one, but I am one." That is as clear a profession of faith as I have ever heard. I mourn for him to this day - especially on this day. I miss him. His generosity. His mischief. I laugh when I recall and recount his escapades. And I am forever grateful for meddling Beth Moore and bossy Monday girls who made me go back and get him. For not letting me wallow in my whiny mess while he was drowning in deep waters. For encouraging me to reach out. Because of them, the last words I remember are sweet ones. I love you. I love you, too.

It 's about to be Christmas. Is there somebody you need to go back and get? There is no guarantee how it will turn out. But at least you'll know. Make the call. I'm glad I did. Selah.

*There are three of us Chandler girls left. We are holding on to each other now. It's not perfect but we are family. And there is love. And that is enough.