MARY WEAVER

PASTOR/TEACHER/AUTHOR

The Unknown God

I have been robbed 7 (God's number) times, by people who lived in my apartment, home health care aids looking after Dennis,' Father when he lived with us for his last four years, by friends of my son, when we were on vacation, his girlfriend, and the woman who murdered my dad. I am sure there are other times I am not even aware of.

Each time felt like Satan stuck a knife in me. I was too attached to my possessions. So once a year, I post a little story in Alister McGrath's book, "The Unknown God." This little story had such a profound effect on me, as did God's Word to me exactly the time my dad was murdered. She stole my inheritance from my father.

"A monk in his travels once found a precious stone and kept it. One day, he met a traveler. And when the monk opened his bag to share his provisions with him, the traveler saw the jewell and asked the monk to give it to him. The monk did so readily. The traveler departed, overjoyed with the unexpected gift of the precious stone that was enough to give him wealth and security for the rest of his life. However, a few days later, he came back to search for the monk, found him, gave him back the stone, and entreated him, "Now, give me something much more precious than that stone, valuable as it is. Give me that which enabled you to give it to me." Anthony De Mello

The first time I read that little story, I was struck in the heart. The times I was robbed, I knew who did it. Even so, I got nothing back, and my life went on without. Now, I had to do something with this story, true or not. I had to, in my heart, give the stolen to the thieves. I struggled mightily over this because I am more of a justice person than a mercy person. The hardest, of course, was the woman who murdered my dad. She stole his house and everything in it, his cars, all his investments, and bank accounts, and kept collecting his social security and government checks for disability from the Army in WW2. What he worshipped instead of God was money. What He worshipped got him murdered in his own home and turned out to be his demise.

It took five years for me to forgive her. It took five years for the police to figure out I was telling the truth, and she was lying. That seemed like a long time since I was struggling over justice, with pain unbelievable in my body. But, the exact moment my dad was murdered in his home, the Lord said three things to me as I was driving. It was probably not audible but coming from the Holy Spirit in my soul. 1. Your dad is dead. 2. It is not your fault. 3. Don't worry about the money. Nothing is yours unless I give it to you.

Wow! I was shaken to my core. I had no doubt it was all true and knew who did it. I called the police in San Diego the minute I got home. They said, "Your dad is not a missing person. You just don't know where he is."

They had no intentions of opening up a case file on Him, but I called them every week, relaying a message the Lord gave me to say, and five years later, she was arrested, tried, and convicted with a life time in prison, period. My dad was the last elderly person she ever will murder. A very smart serial killer now stopped by God. She was much smarter than me, but not smarter than the God we serve. We have Armies they, and sometimes we, know not of.

Coincidentally, It took me five years to actually forgive her and be able to face her in a courtroom without hate in my heart.

The "Nothing is yours unless I give it to you," ruminated in my soul over and over. I had to learn to give what was stolen from me in every case. It was a process, not an "Oh, okay!" But, I will tell you this: as long as I kept working on the process, God and I were good. I never stopped until I released everything taken from me was given to them by me. I did it.

This monk story I read during the process. The last time I was robbed, was after all of this. It did not affect me like all the other times. The outcome was the same. They got away with it and my stuff. But I prayed for them instead of hated and grieved the loss. I went on even though I was still in pain all over my body each and every day.

A struggling bird in the shell comes out stronger.

I hope I can be like the traveler. Teach me, Lord, how to do what You did. In this world, it is inevitable that we will have intense disgust against some people. This world is broken. HOWEVER, we are being repaired to be fit for the Kingdom. We must defer to a deeper spiritual commitment.

Love, Mary Weaver