My dad was angry about this, and felt robbed of the comfortable retirement he had neatly planned out. After four decades of teaching at the university level, he was looking forward to taking the first of many ocean cruises with his wife of 28 years, Regina. Instead, he made his first of many visits to the hospital for bloodwork and PET scans and chemotherapy treatments intended to ward off his disease.

I miss my dad with a deep ache in my heart. But I am deeply blessed by the time we spent together during the last year of his life, and the knowledge that we became closer and loved one another more than we ever had before.

You see, my father was something of a stoic. He raised me as a single parent for 11 years before he remarried, and although he loved me deeply, he wasn’t one for outpourings of affection. We were more like roommates, each going about our daily routine and carrying our weight in keeping up the household. He was also a strict disciplinarian, especially when it came to academics, and as a child I regarded him with equal parts adoration and fear.

More importantly, my father was an atheist. And, despite all his best efforts to teach me to be a “free thinker”, I became a born again Christian at age 34.

We never talked about religion, except once several years prior, when I was attending Catholic church. Having never been taught about God at all, Catholicism was a comfortable stepping stone in my journey of faith. It was also anathema to my father, who was raised Jewish and — although he was a theology minor in college — later chose to abstain from any religious doctrine or belief in a higher power. The conversation was laughable, like a child at her First Communion trying to explain the precepts of faith to a Ph.D., when she had only encountered a feltboard Jesus.

We never discussed religion after I was born again, and left the Catholic church in New York for a pentecostal congregation in Dallas, Texas. We never talked about what it meant for me to accept Jesus into my heart, or how the Holy Spirit truly transformed me from the inside out, softening the hard edges and filling me with joy, faith and compassion.

But he saw it.

I flew to North Carolina to visit my father several times during the last two years of his life, knowing — if only in theory — that our time together was suddenly limited. And, although I never witnessed to him or shared the gospel in conversation, I lived it. I demonstrated Christ’s love to him in every way I knew how, which sometimes meant just being there to encourage him with my companionship. I asked him to tell me stories about his accomplishments in high school and college, and I helped him organize the myriad photos, awards and papers that would mark his legacy. I assured him that my husband and I were happy in our marriage and financially secure — two things that mattered deeply to him.

And I told him that I loved him. Whenever I came to visit, and whenever we talked on the phone, I made sure to tell him — and as time went on, I felt it deeper and deeper in my heart. Despite the battles of my youth and our divergent worldviews in my adulthood, I respected and appreciated my father more than ever. Nothing could take away the pain and bitterness of his sickness, but he knew that he was loved, and there is no greater balm.

My husband Craig put together this wonderful video tribute to my father’s life to play at his memorial. I’m adding it here to honor him.

I love you, dad.

[media id=1]

Dr. Jay Rosenberg
1942 – 2008

It’s as if, in our collective consciousness, we secretly hope that a mysterious stranger will come swooping in and save us from society’s ills. As a nation, we long to abdicate responsibility for our current state of affairs and instead look for a mystical bail-out package wrapped in a flowing cape. We want a crime-fighting vigilante with super human strength, an iron will, and perhaps a few cool gadgets to deal with the drug lords, gangbangers, and scheming sociopaths all around us.

But, this Christmas season is a reminder that the ultimate superhero has already come, and still walks with us today. He’s not an undercover agent or a radioactive monster. He is God made man — the King of King and Lord of Lords, Jesus Christ.

It’s hard to imagine that the helpless infant born in a manger some 2000 years ago is the Savior for whom we have all been yearning. He was a carpenter, not a covert operative. He never carried a weapon, never beat up a bad guy with his bare hands. But, he overcame the world. All our sin, all our shame. We are made clean by his sacrifice – if only we will believe.

Ay, there’s the rub.  Because for all our fantastical visions of celluloid superheroes, millions still turn away from the one who came to save us. Christ is merely a myth, they say; only the feeble-minded believe those old stories.

Why don’t they accept that Jesus is our Savior? Because it’s hard. Unlike the Hollywood heroes we hope for, Christ holds us accountable. He offers salvation, but the price is submission. And, in our fast-paced, gratification-driven, socially networked world, it’s hard to imagine that we’re not the center of our universe. Scripture tells us to play by his rules — to obey Christ’s commands. Obey? Commands? This whole Christianity thing sounds more like a dictatorship.

Except that Jesus’ principal command is this: Love each other.

What dictator ever demanded that?

If you think about it, if everyone followed this one command – this one simple plea – we wouldn’t need a superhero. If we loved each other the way that Jesus loved us — through service, grace and mercy — there would be no crime, no violence, no emotional neglect or physical abuse. There would be no greed, no prejudice, and no self-centeredness. If we really understood and put into practice what Jesus calls us to do, then we would see that he truly is our Savior, wanting nothing more than to save us from ourselves.

Instead, we spend our days griping about government bail-outs as we wring our hands over our own mounting credit card debt. After a hard day’s work surfing YouTube and sending text messages, we swipe a pack of Post-It Notes from the supply room, then spend $4 on a cup of Starbucks. We hide in our homes at night and watch riveting dramas about adultery and homicide to unwind, and just before bed, we secretly peek at online porn, forgetting that the girl splayed out naked for our entertainment is someone’s daughter.

We hope for a hero, and all this time, our true hero is hoping for us. Phillipians 4:19 assures us: “But my God shall supply all your needs according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus”. God promises that all things work together for good to those who love and serve Him faithfully (Romans 8:28), and that those who believe in Jesus and are baptized for the forgiveness of sins will be saved (Mark 16:16).

He promises to give us hope and a future, if we will just believe. This Christmas, don’t look to the movies for a miracle. Look to the baby in the manger, who is the only hero we need.

Seek the Lord while he may be found; call on him while he is near.
– Isaiah 55:6

You see, Martin and Kim are passionate people. They have a genuine calling to help the kind of individuals whom many would look upon with disdain or dismiss as “hopeless”. Specifically, YWAM Houston ministers to prostitutes, crack addicts, transexuals, drug dealers and gang members in an effort to rescue them from the streets and help them turn their lives around. They also train teens and young adults for ministry, equipping them with the skills and courage to enter the roughest inner city neighborhoods and offer assistance to anyone in need. The group is part of YWAM International, which currently operates in more than 1000 locations across 149 countries.

The Dales share the combined giftings of compassion and evangelism, and have dedicated their lives to reaching the lost. They also manage to do it in a way that’s not preachy or self-righteous. If I say any more, that’s exactly how I’m likely to come off, so I’ll let the video do the talking.

Rescue those being led away to death; hold back those staggering toward slaughter. (Proverbs 24:11)