This week in our series on The Sermon on the Mount, we talked about mercy.
Blast From the Past: Out of the Cave, Into…
This too was written eight years ago. Shortly afterward, God led us to a community of faith where we have been ever since.
Some of you have read my recent post about finding myself in a cave. I’m now out of the cave, although still not far from the entrance. I now find myself in the middle of a thicket, sort of like a stand of rhododendron or mountain laurel, so thick that you cannot see out of it. It is still somewhat dark, and the direction I should take is unclear. I see many paths out, but don’t know yet which one to take.
There is the path that would take me back into the church world I left a few years ago. Next to it is the path that would take me to the land of the mega-church. Here I could find a place to hide and lick my wounds. One path seems to go in circles, and looks as if it would leave me no better off. Yet another way out continues in the search for community. That is the path that interests me the most, and the way that I have learned most about in the last couple of days.
You see, I have learned something about community, and about myself. I think I’m beginning to learn why I spent time in the dark cave. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I am a pretty laid back individual, but that when I am passionate about something, I tend to go all out. As I learned more and more about the God’s desire for his children to live as brothers and sisters because of Christ, I became more and more passionate with living in community. Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “The person who loves their dream of community will destroy community, but the person who loves those around them will create community.” As I look back on the past year, and my desire to have and fight for community, I realize I inadvertently pushed it too hard and may have been part of the cause of its destruction. I know that my heart was good, but I think I may have wanted community so badly that I didn’t see the problems that it was causing. Even though I tried to sacrificially love those around me, I think that I didn’t leave room for God to work, thinking that as long as we spent enough time together, growth and maturity would automatically happen.
I now realize that community is something that has to happen naturally, as God’s people learn to love one another. It is something that cannot be forced, and the Holy Spirit must be the one to form it rather than humans whose motives can be tainted by our own needs. I also realize that a particular form of community may not last as long as I think, and that I need to be willing to let it go when it is time. For those of you reading this who have been on the receiving end of my misguided efforts, I am sorry. I put the ideal of community ahead of my brothers and sisters. I was wrong.
As to what is next in this journey along the back roads, only God knows. I know that Jan and I still desire to share our lives with some fellow Christ-followers. I also know that it may not take any form that we expect. It may be in a regular gathering. It may take place in just getting together with one or two who share our desire. What I also know is that I want it to be something that happens as Christ’s Spirit moves, not when I think it should happen.
I’m learning to trust my Father. As I leave the thicket, I want to be hear my Shepherd’s voice and follow him wherever he leads, whenever he leads, and to whatever he leads. I would appreciate your prayers.
Blast From the Past: The Cave
This was first published eight years ago when I was going through some things.
Papa! Papa! Where am I?
How did I get here? It’s so dark. I can’t see a thing!
I remember walking along the path with my friends. Next thing I know I’m waking up here in the dark. I think I remember the path passing near the entrance of a cave. Is that where I am?
How do you feel?
Everything hurts. I feel like I got hit by a truck. Now I remember. We were walking along when I was hit by something. Who would have done something like this?
An Enemy has done this.
Papa, it hurts so bad! I don’t understand! I’m all alone here in the darkness and I feel like everyone has abandoned me!
You are not alone. Your most trusted long time companion is near, waiting for you. I am here.
How did this happen? Everything seemed good. There was some loose rock on the path at times, and there were some places where part of the path had washed away. but I thought we had gotten past them. I thought this part of the journey was going well. I thought we were together.
Papa?
I’m broken. I feel like I can’t move. I’m afraid to try because I can’t see and I don’t know if it’s safe. I don’t know what to do!
Do you remember the time you spent in the desert learning to trust me rather than what you expected me to do?
Yes, I do. That was hard.
You still have more to learn.
Does it have to be so painful? I’d rather lose a job again than feel so hurt and rejected!
Papa, what do I do?
Stay here for awhile. Don’t move. I know it’s dark and you’re scared, but I’m here with you. You are broken, but my love will heal you. You are safe here. Learn again to trust me. No matter what.
When the time comes, I will lead you out of this place, and you and the person who truly loves you will continue on in your journey with me.
Papa, help me! I have no strength.
I know. I am your strength. I love you, son.
Encouragement From a Lamppost
Last night was a night of fitful sleep and unsatisfying dreams. When I awoke this morning, I was feeling the weight of a number of things that are happening in this little conrner of the world. The events of the past few months and the strain that has put on relationahips of people that I know, the friend who is waiting for a possible diagnosis of cancer, and the friend whose mother just had a stroke, along with the stresses of helping lead a faith community to follow Jesus more closely. These are on top of dealing with Jan’s HD and all that goes with it, and trying to keep myself healthy.
When I went to the kitchen to make coffee, I looked out the window into our backyard. What I saw was similar to the picture above, minus the snow and fir trees. It was about 6:45, and the sky was just beginning to lighten. What I saw was unusual because the lamp had never stayed lit all through the night before this, and the previous day had been cloudy. I had bought that particular lamppost because it reminded me of the lamppost in the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis.
When I saw the lamp still lit, the first thing that I thought (I believe it was God speaking to my heart) was, “There is still hope.” In the Narnia tales, the lamppost marked the border between Narnia and the wardrobe in the spare room. In some way it signified hope, because it was there that the story of Aslan coming and reclaiming Narnia began. As you read through the rest of the books, there is always an undercurrent of hope, no matter how dire the circumstances.
I have no idea what is going to happen in each of those situations I mentioned. I know I am praying for healing and restoration, but I also know that the final outcome is beyond my reach. But there is still hope. There is still the hope that no matter what happens, my loving Father has us all in his hands, and he always does what is good and right. There is still hope that the King of Kings will return and make everything right, healing every hurt and wiping every tear. There is still hope that Romans 8:18-39 is true.
You may be going through something similar, or worse. Things may well seem hopless to you. I would encourage you to look to the One who alone can give hope. Look to the King who has conquered death and who is bringing a new creation. Look to him because, to be honest with you, without him it is hopeless.
Introduction to the Sermon on the Mount
This Sunday, our church is beginning a series on the Sermon on the Mount. Here is an introduction to the series.
Reflections at 65
Yesterday I completed my sixty fifth year on this earth. It seems hard to believe it’s been that long, yet at the same time it feels like a long time has past. There have been a lot of changes over the years, in me and in the world around me. When I was born, Dwight Eisenhower was President. Many more have come and gone, some good, some bad. Communication has gone from rotary phones with party lines to Dick Tracy style wrist watches with video calling. Back then, a zoom meeting meant driving fast across town to a particular location. Wars used to be fought in person, now they are sometimes fought remotely.
Over the years, I have gone from being a rail thin youngster to a chubby middle age man to a slightly slimmer senior. I used to be athletic, now my knees ache when I get up in the morning. As a matter of fact, a good bit of my body aches in the morning. I have finally learned that when my mind tells me I can do something that I used to be able to do, I shouldn’t listen. My body always disagrees with my mind, and it is usually right. I have had the opportunity to continue my athletic career as a coach, and been able to coach some pretty good athletes, including my children. Because I coached, I also drove buses and have been able to turn that into in-between jobs, and finally into the job I have now.
I have learned a few things along the way. Some of them are important and some are good answers to trivia questions. I have learned that a great many of the things we think are vital are not, and some of the things we think are inconsequential are extremely important. Even though I still get upset more than I should, I have come to realize that there are really very few things in this life worth getting upset about. More and more, my philosophy is boiling down to, like Karl Barth, Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so, along with love God and others. I have found that holding those thngs closely makes things simpler and more complex. I do believe if more of those of us who call ourselves Christians would live in the realization that we are loved by God and are to love him and our neighbor, this world would be a much better place.
I am truly blest by the Father. He has given me a wonderful wife, two fantastic chidlren, and three of the best grandchildren in the world, with one more on the way. Jan and I are part of a beautiful community of fellow Jesus followers. I have been able to do things that I loved, both in work and play. I have seen some amazing things and met some amazing people. As the years have gone by, I have become more and more grateful for all my blessings and for all the lessons I have learned, even the hard ones.
None of us knows what the future holds. That is not in our hands. I am thankful that my loving Father has the future in his hands. I hope to spend many more years traveling the back roads of life trying to keep up with Jesus.
Thinking
This is the beginning of a reflective, even somewhat sad, period. Those of you that know me, know that I tend to wear my heart on my sleeve and feel things deeply. The time from Thanksgiving to Christmas has always been an emotional time for me. Family is important to me, and family is what that time of year is all about.
Fourteen years ago today, my mother died from Alzheimer’s Disease. Thirty three days later, my father joined her. Thanksgiving and Christmas that year were tough. My emotions were right on the edge most of that time. Even though it has been fourteen years, there is still emotion. There is still a sadness, although the good memories are mixed in, in a greater proportion. In October, 2009, Jan’s mom passed away. That added another layer to the grieving and healing process. Jan’s dad left this life in May, 2016, so none of them are around to share in the family celebrations. They say that time heals all wounds. I’m not totally sure that is true. I think time can bring healing, but the wounds are never completely gone. I do believe that our pain and sorrow can be transformed, and we can be better for them.
The sad time, if you want to call it that, begins a little earlier now. Last week, our dog Charlie died. He had been a faithful companion to our family for the past thirteen years. While losing a pet obviously is not the same as losing a person, there is still a hole left behind. All of those things added together leads to good memories mixed with regret, to happiness mixed with sadness. Something will happen, or someone will say something, and emotions will be triggered. Certain dates become more important than others.
I am thankful that my heavenly Father knows all things, and is gracious and loving. I am thankful for the knowledge that our parents are resting with him and are not suffering. I am grateful for the good memories we have, and for what we can learn from the not so good ones. I can look back and see how things in my past have, in some way, shaped who I am today. As I go into this season, I can look back and see how God is truly working all things for my good and for his glory. I am grateful for that.
Remembering a Dog
When we brought him home from the shelter, he was a 2 month old puppy named Chester. We immediately changed the name to Charles Chaplain because he was black with white markings and reminded us of the Little Tramp. We shortened it to Charlie. Charlie was a cute little puppy, with ears that went up and out, looking like the Flying Nun. He was quite a handful at first, very active and curious. He used to follow us down the hall, nipping at our heels, and it was a job to keep him from digging under the fence to attempt to escape. When he did get out, it was play time for him. Eventually we would get him back in the yard, although there was one time when we thought he was gone and wouldn’t come back.
We finally took Charlie to a place to get him, and us, some training. Charlie picked up on things very quickly because he was a very intelligent dog. The trainer said she thought he was part border collie, because of his looks and intelligence. That explained the herding behavior and his constant need to be outside running around. We never had to take him anywhere for exercise, because our back yard is large and fenced. He was able to run to his heart’s content. Because we live on a corner at the beginning of our neighborhood, everyone got to know Charlie.
As we were in the process of becoming empty nesters, Charlie was a wonderful companion. He always greeted us at the door with his whole back end wagging. In the mornings we would go out together and get the newspaper. I would ask Charlie if he wanted to go get the paper and you could see the absolute joy course through his entire body. He was already to play and never seemed to tire. We enjoyed watching him chase squirrels in our back yard. After a while he simply chased them to the tree and let them run away, and then seemed to grow bored with even that because it was too easy.
During Charlie’s life, no one ever came to see us. They all came over to visit Charlie. At least that’s what he thought. Everyone who came to visit was an instant friend, and he greeted them with total affection. The only person he didn’t seem to like was the poor man who came to read the electric meter every month. For some reason Charlie thought he was a threat to our house.
For the past few months, as Charlie aged, he slowed down a fair amount. When he did go out and run, he was just as fast as ever. He had a new friend who used to run up and down the side fence with him and Charlie had no problem keeping up with him. In between running, he began to sleep a lot. He developed arthritis in his joints, and it got hard for him to get up and down. It seemed like all of a sudden, Charlie had become an old dog. He still liked to run and play at times, but those times were shorter and fewer.
Last Friday, Charlie stopped eating. We had been given some medicine for his arthritis, and we don’t know if that suppressed his appetite or not. He continued drinking water, so we thought if we stopped the medicine that would help. On Tuesday, Jan called the vet and told him what was going on. He was going to prescribe another pain medicine for Charlie. During those last few days. he threw up a few times and had very little interest in any activity. Tuesday afternoon, Charlie’s buddy came by and they ran up and down the fence a couple of times. Charlie didn’t run far and was limping. The other dog’s owner said that Charlie’s bark sounded weak.
That evening, we went to bed. Charlie was in the front hall, where he had been for a few hours. In the middle of the night I heard him throwing up in the bedroom next to ours. I cleaned up after him, told him I loved him and went back to bed. A couple hours later, Jan got up and cleaned up after him again. When I got up at 6:15, I went into the room and saw that Charlie had left us, not long before. We buried him in the back yard later that morning, and said our goodbyes. A life full of happily running and playing was over. He was no longer in pain, now it was our turn to hurt. While we are glad that Charlie is no longer suffering, there is a hole in our hearts. There will be no more walks to get the paper, no more greetings at the front door. I walk out of our bedroom in the morning and look to see where Charlie spent the night. Then I realize he is no longer there.
I don’t know if dogs go to heaven. I do believe that there will be animals in the new creation. Perhaps God will create a Charlie. Then again, maybe not. I do know that I am grateful for the thirteen years we had with a canine companion who brought a great deal of joy into our lives. We loved Charlie and we will miss him. I don’t think we could have asked for a better pet, and I know he can never be replaced.
Forty Years and Counting
It was a different time. The nation had experienced some healing from Vietnam and Watergate. The economy was not in very good shape. Iran held Americans hostage. The Reagan Revolution was just a soon to be realized dream for the Republican Party. The Miracle on Ice was a recent memory and the Summer Olympics would take place without the United States, as well as a number of other countries.
We were different as well. We both were much younger and both of us had more hair. Jan’s hair is simply shorter, while mine is simply gone and my beard is now white. We were both teachers then, and while Jan has kept her hand in, I have bounced around among a variety of jobs.
During these last forty years, we have lived in a number of different homes in three cities. We began life as a couple in the Washington, DC area, spent some time in the Cincinnati area, where our family grew from two to four. For the last twenty five years we have called the small city of Rock Hill home. Our son and daughter grew up here, and left the nest to pursue their own path. In the ensuing years, we buried our parents, moved on to new jobs, and found a community of faith that has become a family.
Through the years, much has changed. We have been on the heights, and we have been through the valleys. This journey together has not always been an easy one, and the road has always been winding. There have been times of plenty, and times when we struggled financially. We have never been “wealthy” in the usual sense, but God has always provided. We have argued and been angry with one another, and made up and moved on.
What has never changed is our love and commitment to each other. As our lives took the twists and turns, we knew that the other one was with us and we were on this journey together, come hell or high water. We learned to communicate and that has been a major factor in our marriage. We still face the challenges of life. Both of us are growing older and dealing with those issues. Jan’s HD is a big challenge. But we are facing these things together, as we have always faced life. We are trusting our heavenly Father to take care of us, as he always has.
Forty years. It seems like a long time, over half of our lives, yet it somehow feels like a blip on the screen of time. We may celebrate another forty years, we may not. No matter how many more years God gives us, I know that I am truly blessed to be married to a beautiful woman who is a wonderful partner.
Jan, I am so thankful to the Father for bringing us together and allowing us to spend these years together as one, and I pray he gives us many more years to journey through this life.
I love you more than yesterday, and less than tomorrow.
A New Year
Today we enter into a new year. Not only a new year, but also a new decade. Yes, I know that technically the new decade begins next January. But it is the 20s now, so I’m going with calling this a new decade.
I’ve seen a lot of talk about reviewing the past decade, ten year plans, etc. I think it’s a good idea to look back over the last few years and see the changes that have occurred in our individual lives, in our families, and in our world. As I look back over the time since 2010, I can think of a number of things that are different as I enter 2020.
Ten years ago, Jan and I were parents of two unmarried young adults. Now we have added a daughter-in-law, a son-in-law, and three grandchildren. In 2010 I was working as a teacher’s assistant and Jan was working at an assistant living facility. As this decade begins, I am a driver at a retirement community and Jan is semi-retired and tutoring. During this time we have lost Jan’s father and oldest sister.
Ten years ago, we were helping plant a church that met in a bagel shop. In the past ten years the church plant ceased to be and we are now part of a small Presbyterian church that seeks to serve our city. Since 2010, I have lost about 25 pounds and been able to keep it off. My hair has become grayer, and my joints creakier. When the last decade began, we had never heard of Huntington’s Disease. As the new decade begins, we are dealing with the reality of Jan having HD, and all of what that means.
As I look back on the last ten years, I see some happy times and some sad times. I see times of accomplishment and times where I wonder what in the world I was thinking. Sometimes life seemed relatively normal and sometimes it seemed like a long, strange trip. There were times when my faith was strong and there were times when my usual prayer was, “Lord I believe, help my unbelief.”
As I look ahead to the 20s, I don’t know if they will be roaring or calm. I am not even going to attempt a ten year plan and my crystal ball shattered long, long ago. The only thing I do know (and have to constantly remind myself of) is that my Father in heaven loves me and my family with a furious, inexhaustible love and will bring everything about for my good and his glory.
Check back in another ten years. Maybe.