Reflections: My mom, Acts 12 and me

The month of February is always a contemplative time for me. It’s the birth month of my biological mother, who died when I was just four years old, and also of my amazing stepmother, in my life from age six until her passing in 2010. Valentine’s Day brings more memories, as both my stepmom and my husband’s late mom loved to send cards and bake cookies.  

My best memories of my stepmother are of her faithfulness in reading the Bible and teaching me the importance of doing so. People raised in the Great Depression/rural Ozarks/World War II context got up early and worked hard, so my mom had me ready for school a good 20 to 30 minutes before the bus actually showed up, and put that time to good use by getting out her worn King James version Bible for us to study together. Over my elementary school years, we memorized several Psalms and the Beatitudes, and read the Gospels and the Book of Acts. 

I recall vividly the morning we read Acts chapter 12, which records persecution of the early Church. After beheading James, the brother of John, King Herod next imprisoned Peter. The chapter then recounts the church’s fervent prayers and Peter’s miraculous release by an angel. 

I always found it funny that when Peter showed up at the prayer meeting, which scholars believe was at the home of one of his relatives, the maid was so surprised that she forgot to unlock the gate before rushing to tell the group he was there! Then, they didn’t believe her—even though his appearance was exactly what they had prayed for! But I also had another question, even at my young age: Why did God let the king kill James, but send an angel for Peter? 

In the decades since I asked that question, not much has changed. I encounter people struggling with their faith who ask the same question: “Why did God . . . ?” Often this is in connection to serious accidents, weather events, etc., or when one person receives miraculous healing or recovers from an illness that takes the life of another. 

The answer is, I don’t know. And neither did my stepmother. She answered my question by saying that we don’t know God’s purposes because we aren’t God, but that we should follow the example of the Acts church. They were obviously saddened and frightened by what happened to James, but didn’t let that stop them from praying fervently for Peter’s release. When the chapter 12 incident occurred, Stephen had already died as a martyr, and more of those early converts went on to suffer for their faith. Peter had a longer period of ministry before martyrdom, and James’ brother John lived to record the Revelation and died a natural death. 

I’m so thankful for those early morning times with my mom and her honesty in saying “We don’t know, but we still trust.” In her later years, after losing three of her sisters to cancer, she still stood firm in prayer, faith and encouragement during my cancer experience, rejoiced when I was declared cancer-free, and then later had cancer that ended her earthly life. 

I’ve never forgotten that message and my mom’s example, and each February, I set aside special time to thank God for the wonderful people before me, whose faith was fixed on Jesus and our hope for eternity.