Janet Benlien Reeves

 What, Therefore, I Hope I'm Leaving So few so far of mine have left the world I know for heaven. Three grandparents plus one great. Two babies who gave up heart-beating before they had the chance to breathe. It’s only a matter of time before death begins its grim, but hopeful transfer of yet another older-than-me generation. I will see them again. Or maybe they’ll see me. Who can say? Our times are in God’s hands. But those who’ve gone already left treasures: Grandpa, for instance, always had a story to tell, embellished with humor, his take on events. According to Grandpa, for example, the Japanese surrendered in World War II because they heard the draft had finally captured my grandfather, who was on a ship, on his way. No coincidence of timing in Grandpa’s account of history: the war ended when he showed up. To me, he left his appreciation for poetry, imagination, a well-told story, and the deepest truth. His wife, on the other hand, always had a list of sights t...

It’s my day to play with the grandchildren while their daddy works at the Lighthouse Mission and their mommy runs errands, then teaches a class on ministry to the unhoused. Both have arrived home for a quick lunch. Bridget, my daughter-in-law, has brought Aspen, my four-year-old granddaughter, home from a ballet lesson. Aspen looks entirely too grown up in her pink tutu. Her blonde hair in a ponytail that reaches her shoulder blades swings back and forth as she walks. Aspen wants peanut butter and jelly for lunch. She gives me step-by-step instructions: “First, you spread the peanut butter on one side of the bread, Memaw. Then you put the jelly on the other and smush it together.” She demonstrates. I smush. Then I put the sandwich on a plate and cut it diagonally in half at her command. She peels the two pieces of bread apart, licks off the peanut butter and jelly, and leaves the bread. Griffin, my youngest grandson, is napping. He won’t even know he missed his parents’ brief visit hom...

The Life King Herod Missed King Herod was a mentally unstable tyrant whose paranoia led him to murder anyone he viewed as a threat to his throne. He not only murdered all the baby boys of Bethlehem under the age of two in his attempt to kill Baby Jesus (Matthew 2:16), but he also murdered one of his wives, her sons, and other members of her extended family. In his later years, he even killed his own firstborn son, Antipater (Perowne). King Herod was not a fictional character, yet writers will recognize that his life fits the character arc of a Tyrant, one of the shadow arcs of the King, perfectly. In her book, Writing Archetypal Character Arcs: The Hero’s Journey and Beyond, K.M. Weiland says, “Because the King Arc is all about surrendering power and prestige as a preparation for the descent into the underworld of elderhood (and, eventually, the end of life), the Tyrant’s rejection of this arc is ultimately an attempt to reject his own mortality” (133). If we apply this to King Herod, ...

    In many Christian traditions, peace is the focus of the second week of Advent. As we reflect on this prompt, we may think of Jesus, the Prince of Peace (Isaiah 9:6), and look forward to the day when He’ll make peace our permanent state of existence. No conflict. No worry. No confusion. No frustration. No anger. No heartbreak. No pain. But peace is more than something to look forward to. It’s also something we can learn to practice now. Throughout His life on this earth, Jesus showed the way. We learn that way by studying the Gospels. Through our determination, with the help of God’s Spirit, our practice of peace can help make this world more harmonious now. This is true because Jesus is our peace. Ephesians 2:14 tells us this. In the passage containing this statement, Paul is addressing hostility between Jews and Gentiles. He says that Jesus reconciled, that is, made peace between, the two groups through His death on the cross (v. 16) and that through Jesus, all people,...

At Christmastime, we celebrate Jesus’ birth— as we live the life made possible through His death and resurrection— while we look forward with hope to His return. We focus on His Nativity, but we know that event has already happened. Christ’s birth is in the past, not something we hope for now. We celebrate Jesus’ birth at Christmas the way we celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, adoptions, and other annual celebrations of one-time events. But Christmas is more than a birthday celebration. Christmas is a remembrance of hope. We no longer hope for the promised Christ child. He has already come. Instead, we hope—look forward to—the second coming of our grown-up, mission-fulfilled, crucified, resurrected, and glorified Savior and King for eternity. The remembrance and reality of the first event is our hope for the second. We live in this hope every day. Just as God was and is and is to come (Revelation 1:8), through Advent, we celebrate what happened in the past, what is happening...

More than once, I have told my husband something like: “My head knows that this current experience is not like that experience from years ago, but it can’t convince the rest of me.” At these times, my head has declared the situation safe and my status secure while my body and emotions have reacted with anxiety, stress, and a need to control. I respond with panic and a desire to fight (not literally), take flight, or freeze. My body and emotions work together, demanding a quick solution to a problem that doesn’t exist. My head throws up its figurative hands and says, “There is no reasoning with them!” Thankfully, this occurrence is rare. But if you understand this (IYKYK), The Sacred Art of Slowing Down by A. C. Seiple can be a useful tool as you work to bring your thoughts, emotions, spirit, and physical reactions together. It is a tool that God can use to help you heal what’s broken, so that you can move forward in a healthy way. As I read Seiple’s book, I especially appreciated ...