Category: loss

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Blast from the Past: Reflections on Ash Wednesday

This was first posted on February 21, 2010 and has been edited to bring it up to date.

Wednesday, February 26 is the first day of Lent. Ash Wednesday is celebrated by Christians around the world with a service that includes the placing of ashes on the forehead of the worshipers. The ashes are to remind that we are made from dust, and to dust we will return. In the tradition in which I grew up, Lent (like most of the church calendar) was not even on our radar. We celebrated Christmas, Palm Sunday, and Easter. I had a vague notion that other days were observed in other traditions, but we were taught that those days were not important. So, I’m a bit late to the keeping of the church calendar, and still learning.

As I go through the Lenten period, I am struck by the fact that our bodies are formed from the dust of the ground, and to that dust they will return. Because of the brokenness of Creation, we face the inevitable decay of our physical selves. As a more than middle-aged man who has tried to compete in sports at the same level he did when he was in his twenties, I can attest to that. At some point our bodies will wear out and no longer be useful to us. When they are then placed in the ground, they will return to the dust from which they came. As we look around us, we see that decay in every part of our world. Ash Wednesday and Lent are good reminders that we are broken and in need of a savior.

Thankfully, that is not the end of the story. During this time, we take a good hard look at our humanity and our brokenness, but we also look ahead to the time when our Savior will return and will restore Creation. We look forward to the resurrection and the Kingdom of God coming in all its fullness. When I think about Ash Wednesday, and the symbolism of the ashes on the forehead, I think of the song, “Beauty Will Rise.” In that song Steven Curtis Chapman sings, “Out of these ashes… beauty will rise and we will dance among the ruins We will see Him with our own eyes Out of these ashes…beauty will rise For we know, joy is coming in the morning… in the morning …This is our hope. This is the promise. That it would take our breath away to see the beauty that’s been made out of the ashes…”

As we go through this season of Lent, contemplating our sinfulness and our need of a redeemer, let us remember that we do have a Savior who has made us a new creation, and who will one day make all things new.

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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.

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Blast From the Past: Still More

When we last left our hero, he was wondering what was going to happen next.

I was without work. I thought I was going to realize the fulfillment of a long held dream of coaching college basketball. So, I sent out resumes and waited. I talked to every coach I knew. And I waited. The summer came and went and still no coaching job. In fact, there were no jobs at all on the horizon. We didn’t feel free to move to another area because my parents and my wife’s parents had moved here to be near us and they were in declining health and needed our help. The search continued. As all this was going on, we had to give our Cocker Spaniel to the pound because he was old and had too much wrong with him for us to afford to have him treated. It was not a fun summer. About a week after we gave our dog away, I was out on yet another job search. As I drove past the animal shelter, I lost it. I began to pray, cry, and yell at God. I even cussed (I know that shocks some of you, but that’s the way it is). I told God that if I had anywhere else to go, I’d chuck this whole Christian thing. I realized that, like the disciples, I had nowhere else to go, that Jesus was the only one worth following.

In September of 2005, I was hired by a tour bus company to drive. I was glad because it would give me a chance to travel. As it turned out, the majority of the job consisted of leaving the house at 4:00 AM, driving to a National Guard camp eighty miles away, and shuttling troops back and forth from the camp to a nearby army base so they could be processed for active duty in Iraq. Most of the day was spent sitting on the bus and waiting for the soldiers to get their paperwork in order. I would usually arrive back home sometime after 10:00 PM. Because of this schedule, I usually only worked three days a week, so the income wasn’t real good. The company also had no health insurance for their employees.

At first, I wondered what I had done wrong, wondered why God had “put me on the sidelines”. I felt like I was in a desert. Sitting on the bus gave me plenty of opportunity to read, think, and pray. God began to teach me about trust and patience. He reminded me that he was the most important one in my life, and that my identity was in Jesus, not in being a teacher or coach. I began to rethink even more of my assumptions about God, church, and life. At the same time, God was teaching me increasingly to trust him. Jan and I saw God provide for us again and again.

In January 2006, I walked out of the desert. I was hired as a teacher’s assistant in a self-contained special education class at a public middle school. The kids I work with all have learning disabilities, some more severe than others. Many of them are from low income families. Quite a change from the Christian schools previously worked in, although not as much as I would have thought. Kids are kids wherever you go.

Also in January, both my mom and my mother-in-law went into a nursing home. Jan’s mom suffered a stroke, and my mom was suffering from advanced Alzheimer’s. Our ministry to our parents changed somewhat, as we were visiting our moms and essentially being there for our dads. It was hard to go into a place full of people who were essentially waiting to die and visit Mom, knowing that she would never leave in this life.

I’ll give your eyes a rest and write more later.

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Some Things I Don’t Understand

A young teenage girl died this week. She left behind family and friends who loved her dearly. I know all the things that are true. She lived far longer than expected. She is no longer in pain. God is good and kind and he is in control. I know all that and I believe all that. Still, there are some things I don’t understand.

Last night some of us sat with two friends of the young lady. Most of that time was spent in silence. We grieved with them. At this time, it’s the only thing we could do. I spent some time wondering about the brokenness of this world and the pain that we humans have to endure. Jan and I have lost both of our parents in the last few years. That kind of thing is more normal. Children are “supposed” to outlive their parents.

This is different. Parents are not supposed to bury their children. Teenagers are not supposed to spend evenings grieving for other teenagers. People are not supposed to die that young. This world is not supposed to be the way it is. Even though I know the creation is broken and groaning because of sin, I still don’t understand why it sometimes works out the way it does. Even though I know God is good and compassionate, I still don’t understand why this compassion sometimes plays out the way it does.

I know and believe that my Father is loving. I know and believe that his love extends to the young lady and the family and friends she left behind. Having said that, I still have to admit that I don’t understand. The only thing I can do is try to trust my Father’s heart. I have to trust that Romans 8 is right, that God works in everything for the good of those who love him. I have to believe, not only for me, but in some way for my friends who lost a loved one. 

I  have to trust my Father because I can’t trust my own understanding.

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A Poem: Home Again

I wrote this one a couple weeks ago.

HOME AGAIN
It’s been said that you can’t go home again
I decided to see for myself, so I went back
Back to the places that shaped me
The places that for so long defined my life
They were still there, still the same
Yet somehow different, somehow changed
The house I grew up in seemed smaller
The tree in the front gone, the shed in the back dilapidated
The elementary school still stands, but it too has shrunk
So have the baseball fields where I used to play
The junior high is now a community center
The posts with dirt on top replaced by benches
My old high school has been torn down
Replaced by a new one that looks like a prison
The small town has grown into a sprawl of suburbia
Where it takes forever to drive anywhere
The chicken house has no chickens or eggs
The “giant” hogs are gone from the pen
The path up the hill through the pasture is overgrown
Just a few cows still wander the hillside
The old house has hot water now
You don’t have to heat water on a wood stove for a bath
Cell phones have replaced the old crank wall phone
Where you listen in on other folks’ conversations

The old mules are no longer around
And the smell of Paw’s pipe is long gone
The old wooden church we used to visit is gone
Replaced by a larger brick building
Family names still dot the old graveyards
New ones have been added

They say you can’t go home again
You can, but it’s not home
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Waiting

This was first posted on April 19, 2014.

“How could this happen? How could we have been so wrong?”

“We believed the kingdom was going to be restored and those pagan dogs sent back to Rome where they belong. But this ‘messiah’ turned out to be just like all the others.”

“Now here we are hiding from the priests and the Romans.”

“Why didn’t we fight back? What kind of wimps are we?”

“Fight back? Did you see how many men they had? Besides, Peter tried and he told him to put the sword away!”

“Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but as soon as all this mess dies down, I’m going back up to  Galilee.”

“Me too. Back to the old life. When the only thing we had to worry about was catching fish and fixing nets.”

“Yeah. It’s been an interesting three years, but I’m through with messiahs and kingdoms. Just give me my boat out on the water. As soon as I can, I’m getting out of here.”

And so, they waited.

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Sad, Angry, and Hopeful

Today, I lied to one of my bus passengers. She told me she had been diagnosed with ALS and asked me if I knew anything about it. After stating a couple of generalities, I told her that I couldn’t think of anything else because I didn’t want to be the one to tell her that the disease is fatal. Two days ago, our next door neighbor died from pancreatic cancer, just a few days after coming home from the hospital. A week and a half ago, friends of ours lost their twenty one year old only son in a tragic accident. I see and hear of families and friendships being torn asunder because of pride and selfishness.

I am saddened by all these things. It is heartbreaking to see parents grieving a son that is supposed to outlive them. It grieves me to know that I will no longer speak to my neighbor across the fence between our houses. I am sad to hear of someone contracting a deadly disease. My heart aches to see relationships broken and people I know in pain.

I am angry because none of these things are the way it is supposed to be, the way creation was made to be. I am angry at evil, at sin, at the things that happen to us, and at the things we do to each other. I am angry because I feel helpless much of the time, knowing that so much is out of my control.

I am sad and I am angry. Yet, at the same time I am hopeful. I believe that the Creator of the universe has stepped into this world, taking on humanity. Entering death, on the cross, the King came through the other side and defeated death. His kingdom was inaugurated through this death and has been coming to fruition in small ways ever since. This King will return and set all things to right. I don’t understand everything that happens in this life and there are many things I don’t like. But, I do believe that one day there will be no cancer, no ALS, no death. I believe that all broken relationships will be reconciled and there will be wholeness and peace.

Even so come, Lord Jesus!

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Blast From the Past: Out of the Cave, Into the…

This was first posted on February 6, 2012. The healing process had begun.

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.

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Birthday Reflections

As of today, I have completed my sixth decade on this earth. I remember, when I was young thinking that sixty was so old. I don’t feel that way anymore, except when I get out of bed in the morning.

It’s been an interesting journey so far. As a wise man once said, “What a long, strange trip it’s been.” It’s not been a story for the ages, although there have been many moments that were memorable, at least to me. As I look back I see a life that was just a little bit outside of what some would call normal. Of course, what is normal?

Like everyone, I have had highs and lows. I have been married to a wonderful woman for thirty five years now and that union continues to be a high. My two beautiful children are happily married and are making their own way in the world. Looking back I see that my family has always been the best part of my life. I have had good jobs and bad jobs. I have lost good jobs and bad jobs. While I never got what I thought was the dream job, I’ve always had the sense that I was in the right place, even if I was there in order to learn some lessons. I have had good friends through the years. Some continue as friends, others have been lost and replaced by better friends.  I have been hurt by people and learned to forgive. I have hurt people and I hope they have forgiven me. I have learned from each of them.

I have traveled through the Christian landscape, from fundamental Baptist circles where I didn’t quite fit in, to a small Presbyterian church where I feel love and acceptance. Along the way I dabbled in Reformed Baptist, non-denominational, simple, and house churches. I have been fed up with church and ready to call it quits. I have gone from being an advocate of attractional worship that uses music to bring in a crowd, to believing that it is in intimate community that we really are formed into the likeness of Jesus.

As the years have gone by, I have become far less convinced that politics can make lasting change, and far more convinced that being an agent of Jesus’ Kingdom is the only thing that can. I have grown less tolerant of those who are convinced that their way is the only way, and that those who disagree are the enemy.

I have traveled the back roads on this journey. I have not been been successful in business, have not built any empires. I have not been named man of the year, or been roasted in front of a large crowd. I’m not famous. Hopefully I’m not infamous. I don’t really care about all that stuff. I do hope that I have touched some lives in a positive way, that I have made a difference in a small way, that others have seen a bit of Jesus in me.

Sixty years. It does seem like a long time. But, it’s not enough. In many ways it feels like the start, like there’s much more out there. Maybe with all the advances in medical science, I’ll have sixty more. Who knows?