Category: my journey

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Blast From the Past: Fear and Love

This was first published back in 2010, There is still a lot of that around, although some of the details may have changed.

In the song, “I Will Follow You Into the Dark,” Death Cab for Cutie sings about death and following a lover “into the dark.” It’s a song that sees death as an unknown. There are many folks who see death and life after death that way. I’m not going to discuss that here though.

What struck me (and broke my heart) were the following lines:

In Catholic school as vicious as Roman rule
I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black
And I held my tongue as she told me
“Son fear is the heart of love”
So I never went back

I never went to Catholic school, but I did grow up in a religious culture that was fear based. We were told early in life that we needed to accept Jesus as our personal Savior so we could avoid going to hell. Lurid descriptions of hell, some going beyond what Scripture says, were part and parcel of the “gospel.” Movies like “Thief in the Night,” and stories of holes drilled deep into the earth and the screams of the damned coming from those holes, were designed to scare people into “making a decision” for Christ. Today, churches use things like “Judgment House,” and “Helloween” to do the same thing.

There was also an emphasis on “living right,” which of course meant following a certain set of rules and regulations. The motives for doing right included not wanting to lose rewards in heaven, not wanting to damage our “testimony,” and not wanting to be “taken home” early because of our sin. We tried to live right because of fear of the consequences if we didn’t. Even those of us who rebelled tried to make sure that we asked forgiveness before we went to bed, in case we died in the middle of the night.

While there are warnings throughout Scripture about judgment, and I do believe that there will be some sort of judgment when Jesus comes again, I think the more prevalent theme throughout the Bible is love. The Israelites were told that God was leading them in his love. They were commanded to love God with their entire being, and to love their neighbors as themselves. God presented himself to Moses as the God who is, “slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness.” All through the Old Testament, the people of God were reminded of his love for them and of their responsibility to love God and to love others.

In the New Testament, Jesus states that all of God’s Law can be kept by loving God with our entire being and loving all others as ourselves. He said that the way others would know that we belong to him is our love for each other. In John’s first letter, he writes about the importance of love. 1 John 4:18 is the verse that puts to rest any notion that “fear is the heart of love.” This verse sums it up:
“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.”

Addendum: This morning, during the Lord’s Supper, we were asked the question, ”Do you really believe that King Jesus loves you.” I think at various times in our lives, we might all answer, ”Well no, not really,” It’s something we all struggle with from time to time, but we shouldn’t. Everything God tells us, in Scripture and in our spirit, tells us that he loves us with a furious, unquenchable love that reaches beyond eternity and defeats anything that could harm us.

Believe that King Jesus loves you. Let it permeate every fiber of your being. Remind others, and show them that same love. As Jesus said, ”Fear not.”

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Hurry Up and Wait

I am beginning to suspect that the word for 2022 may be “patience.” As the year began, I was awaiting an appointment with a radiation specialist to talk about and schedule the radiation therapy for my prostate cancer. The appointment was scheduled for the Monday after we were to return from a trip out West to celebrate our youngest grandson’s first birthday.

Our flight was scheduled to leave on a Friday morning. Early that day, I received a notification that the first leg of the trip was cancelled. The airline had no flights for us to take Saturday, but they graciously scheduled us to go out Saturday on another airline. So, we’ll be able to get home just one day later. No problem. Right? Wrong! The second airline cancelled the second leg of the trip with them due to the winter storm that was to hit the east coast that weekend. They rescheduled us on yet another flight that left Sunday morning, had four legs, and put us back to our home airport Monday morning. Needless to say, that wasn’t going to work.

Saturday morning I went to the airport to see if the second airline would transfer me back to the original airline for a flight that went Sunday and put us back home Sunday night. After being informed that they could not do that, I cancelled the flight with them, walked down to the original airline’s counter and purchased a one way flight for Sunday. Even though I spent more money, ate least we were going to be home, and I was still going to be able to get to my appointment, which had been changed to virtual, due to the expected weather issues.

After a bit of a delay, we left Fresno Sunday morning and flew into Phoenix for a short layover, before landing in Charlotte Sunday night. Oh, did I mention that we planned to take an Uber home? That becomes important. When we left the plane and walked into the airport, we were greeted with an eerie silence. The airport was almost completely empty. Every flight out had been cancelled because of the storm. After we picked up our luggage, we went outside to procure our Uber ride.

Well, that didn’t go as expected. In fact, it didn’t go at all. Evidently no drivers wanted to drive the thirty or so miles on icy, hazardous roads. Who knew? No taxi drivers were willing either. I can’t really say that I blame them. After a while I got us a room at a hotel near the airport. We took a taxi there and had a night’s rest. In the morning, we dressed, packed, checked out, and walked into the hotel’s business center, where I had my virtual appointment with the doctor. We caught an Uber and finally arrived home a little after noon.

That’s not the end of the story concerning learning patience, but I’ll give you a rest and continue later.

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New Year: New Twists and Turns in the Road

2020 was a year that many would like to forget, and 2021 didn’t’ seem to be much better. As the Covid pandemic hit in March 2020, I was in the hospital with a minor heart attack. I recovered completely and made it through the rest of that year and most of 2021. Most, but not all.

First, a bit of background. My father had prostate cancer. Because of that, my family doctor has been keeping an eye on my PSA (Prostate Specific Antigen). In many areas of my life I am just like my father. Well, it turns out that this is one of them. My PSA levels went up to the point that my urologist wanted to have things checked out further. The first step was an MRI, which showed some small spots in one area.

Next came a biopsy, after a couple months wait, which seemed to me to indicate that the doctor was not overly concerned. The biopsy was performed in early December, and the day before my sixty sixth birthday, I was informed that I had joined the club. I was following my father’s footsteps and had prostate cancer. Happy birthday to me. The good news is that it is stage 2; which means it is confined to one certain area.

At the end of 2021, I underwent a bone scan and today I had a CT scan, along with a chest X-ray to check out a spot found on a rib. The spot may be from an old injury. I remember getting kicked in the ribs a few times playing soccer goalkeeper in high school and college. Hopefully that is the case. The CT scan looked good. The next step is to schedule radiation treatment beginning the third week of this month. This should last about two months or so.

I am learning a few things from this. First, I am learning to not take anything for granted, because you never know when things are going to change. I am also learning that good treatment in American healthcare is extremely expensive. Even with excellent insurance, the costs are still very high. I am learning how to empathize with those who have cancer. Hopefully I am learning to trust my heavenly Father and rest in his love for me.

The five year survival rate for this prostate cancer is pretty much 100%. After that, it’s a matter of keeping an eye on things, much like before. The outlook is good and my urologist is pretty positive, so I think I’m going to be okay. So we shall see how the road ahead goes and where this journey is going to take me this year.

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Reminiscing

It was a warm Saturday morning in 2006. The night before, my father had asked me to go with him to Summerville to watch his grandson, my nephew play soccer. After a week of dealing with middle school students, I really wanted to stay home and relax. However, it had only been a little over a month since Mom had died. My dad needed to be able to do this, and he needed me to do the driving. I don’t remember much of the conversation during the trip, except for him telling me that his sister had just passed away and the funeral was that day.

We drove to the soccer field and settled in to watch the game. I think it was a good game. I really don’t remember. We only saw the first half. At halftime, my niece and I headed to the concession stand to get something to drink. Dad had mentioned that he was hot and thirsty. On the way back, we noticed that there was a crowd of people around someone on the sideline where we had been sitting. As we got closer, we realized that the people were crowded around my father, who was on the ground. He was having a heart attack. An ambulance quickly arrived and the EMTs began to try and revive him. After what seemed like an eternity, they put Dad in the ambulance and headed for the emergency room. My sister and I followed.

I don’t remember how long we waited. Everything was a blur. Finally we were informed that the doctors had done everything they could do, but that Dad had died of a heart attack. We were escorted to a room where he lay on a table, and I immediately lost it. I had lost my hero, and in one sense I was now an orphan. I felt a sense of guilt for not really wanting to drive him to the game, and some relief that I had gone and had been with him on his last day in this life. The next few days were a blur, as arrangements needed to be made with a funeral home where my sister lived, the church here where my parents had been members, and the funeral home and cemetery in Maryland, where Dad was to be buried.

All of the arrangements were completed, and we drove to Maryland for a small service in the funeral home, followed by the burial. It was a mild, sunny day, in contrast to the cold rain on the day Mom was laid to rest. At the end of the gravesite service, when the casket was lowered into the ground and the machine was shoveling the dirt into the grave, I remember that my sister and I both thought of Dad peering down from heaven, making sure that the workers did their job correctly.

It’s been fifteen years. Our two children, his grandchildren are married, and I know he would be proud of them. There are four great grandchildren now, and i can imagine the joy he would get out of spending time with them and teasing them with his corny jokes. I’m trying to carry on that tradition, but my efforts pale in comparison. I still miss him. I think about him a lot, especially when I bump my head. I am thankful that I will see both my mom and my dad in the New Creation.

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After 20 Years

September 11, 2001. Some three thousand people awoke that morning, went about their routine, and headed off for their day. None of them had any idea that this day would be their last in this life. I was a teacher and athletic director in a small Christian school , and was in my office listening to the radio. A report broke in to the programming. Evidently, a plane had flown into one of the towers of the World Trade Center in New York City. At the time, no one knew if this was an accident, or deliberate. A short time later news came in of a second plane flying into the second tower. The word “attack” was being uttered. Then the third plane flew into the Pentagon and the unthinkable began to become very real. The United States was under attack. Shortly thereafter, we learned that a fourth plane had been hijacked and that the South Tower had collapsed. At the same time, plans were in motion to take down the fourth plane if it approached Washington, D.C. This proved to be unnecessary because some of the passengers on that flight attacked the hijackers, and the plane ended up crashing into a field in Pennsylvania. Shortly after the fourth plane crashed, the North Tower collapsed. While all this was happening, flights all over the country were grounded in an attempt to prevent future attacks.

I was in a state of shock, as was the nation. All of our might, our prosperity, our sense of safety, seemed to be an illusion. For many days there was concern that something else might happen. There was grief for those who had perished, and for those who had been left behind. There was also a determination to help those who had been injured, and those whose loved ones had been torn from them. In the days to come, the nation was unified as it had been in the last world war. It seemed that there was no longer division between groups or parties. We were all Americans. The nation had been shaken to its core, and as a result turned to God. It seemed as if America might come out of this stronger and better.

Twenty years have passed. I believe that, while we were stronger, better, and more unified at the beginning, America has let all of that slip away. We may be more divided now than at any time in our history. There are groups and individuals who believe, and proclaim that anyone who doesn’t believe the way they do is not a real American. The spirit of helping others and sacrificing for their good has been replaced with a spirit of me first, my rights, my desires. There are those that call for open rebellion, and some even call for a civil war. Some of these folks even call themselves followers of the Prince of Peace!

Many in the church have confused being a Christian with adhering to a particular political viewpoint. The idea of being a citizen of the kingdom of God is forgotten by many, or is pushed to something in the far-off future. Twenty years ago, America had a common enemy from the outside. Today, it seems that the common enemy is each other. If we continue to fight and seek to destroy that enemy, we will destroy ourselves. I hope we can wake up and look for the common ground that helped us through those days after 9/11/2001.

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Fifteen Years Already?

It’s hard to believe that it has been fifteen years since my mom went to be with her Savior. Mom had suffered from Alzheimer’s Disease for a number of years. Eventually she reached the point where my dad could no longer take care of her at home, no matter how much he tried. After a short stay in the hospital, Mom was admitted to a local nursing home to live out her final days. It was hard on all of us, but it was especially hard on Dad, who I believe thought that he had failed as a husband. Within a few months, Mom slipped away and we said goodbye.

As it often happens with a disease like Alzheimer’s, there was both sadness and a sense of relief. By the end, Mom didn’t know anyone or anything that was going on. She had gone from the sweetest person anyone could know, to someone else entirely. As her mind slipped away, negative things from her childhood came back to life. We knew that the one we were interacting with was not the wife and mother we knew and loved, so when she died we were relieved that her suffering was over and she was made whole.

I remember the funeral back in Maryland. It was a rainy day, and the song “I Will Praise You in the Storm” came on the radio. While bringing a fresh toreent of tears, the song also brought comfort. I knew that I could praise God in the midst of the physical storm and the emotional storm because the loved me and he loved Mom. She was now resting in his presence and one day all of the tears would be wiped away.

Over the years, the pain has lessened. That is only natural. I still remember all of the good times with a wonder, loving mom who would gladly have given herself up for her children. While I do remember the last couple of years of her life and the struggle it was, I can look back on it thankful that the Father carried me through that with the same loving arms with which he carried Mom home.

I believe that I will see my mom someday, and we will never have to part in tears again.

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Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – Becoming the Father

In The Return of the Prodigal Son, Henri Nouwen writes that the challenge for him is to become the father. It is a challenge that is full of difficulties. When we look again at the Father in our own stories, we can see how daunting it is.

Our Father is gracious and loving without condition. He gives us many good gifts, but the most important gift he gives is himself. The Father is reckless in giving himself to us. Jesus, who is the image of the Father, gave his very life for us, pouring out his blood for our salvation. We are granted grace and mercy without measure from an eternal, inexhaustible love. There is nothing our Father wouldn’t do for our good.

As children of God, we are called to be like him. When I look in a mirror, I see my dad. The eyes, the facial features, the hair (or lack thereof), the voice, all show whose son I am. The same is to be true of those who are children of the heavenly Father. As God is loving and compassionate, so we are to be loving and compassionate. As God is gracious and merciful, so we are to be gracious and merciful. As God gives himself, so we are to give ourselves. You get the idea.

In my late twenties my life changed as I became a father. Even though I was still a son, I was now a person with a child. That brought a change in responsibilities, and a change in perspective. As we mature in Christ, we are to leave both the prodigal and the elder son behind. We are still in need of fathering from God, but our vocation changes. We are now called to be the father. As I look at the father in the story, I see some things that will be true as we become the father. Nouwen states that the three ways to compassionate fatherhood are grief, forgiveness, and generosity.  

We grieve over those who have left home, we grieve over the injustice and abuse in the world, and we grieve over our own weakness. One aspect of grieving is realizing that we cannot save the one who has wandered away. The father in the story didn’t go after his son, but he watched and waited for him to return. So it is with us. Many times, all we can do is pray that God will turn the prodigal around. We can not go into the far country and drag them back. All we can do is wait and be ready to welcome them home.

This grieving makes us sensitive to others who are hurting, and the sensitivity leads us to forgive those who wrong us. As the father did, we forgive without question any and all who return. As Jesus said, we forgive, and forgive, and forgive, and forgive, and so on. True forgiveness also reconciles. The father didn’t say to the prodigal, “I forgive you, but I think I’ll just keep you on as a servant.” He accepted him back as his beloved son. No strings attached.

The third way to compassionate fatherhood is generosity. The father spared nothing to celebrate his son’s return. He gave the best of everything, including himself. We are called to give ourselves to others in the same way. Yes, we may get hurt. I’m sure the father was hurt when the elder son refused to join the party, and I would guess the younger son wasn’t perfect after he was restored. He may well have cause his father more pain. We are to remember the hurt we have caused our Father and the grace he gives us regardless, and do the same for others.

May the Father enable us to be as gracious, loving, and compassionate to others as he is to us.

Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Younger Son

Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Elder Son

Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Father

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Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Father

The story in Luke 15 is popularly named for the prodigal son, but it could be titled, “The Story of the Prodigal Father.” Prodigal means recklessly extravagant, and I think that describes the actions of the father in the story. Jesus told this story in response to the criticism that he ate and drank with sinners. It is a picture of God’s extravagant love toward repentant sinners.

The father granted the younger son’s request, even though it was a slap in the face. As a father, I can begin to imagine the grief he felt as his son rejected him and everything he stood for. Rather than writing the son off as a lost cause, the story seems to indicate that the father was constantly looking for him to return. In spite of his grief he kept hoping. When the prodigal returned, the father saw him coming in the distance and ran to meet him. Imagine this dignified man running out to greet his son. In those days, one who did what the son had done would be met by the village elders if he returned and officially banished. The father was not only overjoyed to see his son, he was also protecting him.

Before the son could get his speech out, his father told the servants to prepare for a huge blowout party. He covered the son’s rag’s with a luxurious robe, put good sandals on his feet, and a ring on his finger. All of these were things a beloved son would wear, not a servant. There were no words of disapproval or recrimination, only grace and compassion. When the elder brother acted like a jerk and refused to join the party, the father went to him with grace, reminding him that he was also a beloved son. Again, there were no harsh words from the father.

We have the same kind of Father. When we wander away from him, forgetting who we are, he is waiting patiently for us to return. He knows we will return because his Spirit draws us. We are told in Scripture that God’s kindness leads us to repentance. He doesn’t force us back and hold us against our will. It’s grace and love that brings us to him, and it’s grace and love that keeps us home. In the same way, when we think we somehow have to perform to cause the Father to love us more, or think our good deeds mean we are better than our brothers, the Father calls us to remember that he loves us because he loves us. He doesn’t love us any less when we screw up, and he doesn’t love us any more when we do good things.

Sometimes we forget who our Father is, and who we are as his children. God calls us back to him, not as a servant. He calls us back, not as someone who has earned his love. No, the Father calls us to return home, remembering that we are his beloved children. He is ready to welcome us with open arms and celebrate our return.

Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Younger Son

Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Elder Son

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Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Elder Son

The first post in this series looked at the main character in the story of the prodigal son; the younger son who had gone off with his inheritance and wasted it, and then came back. This post looks at the older son.

When the prodigal son returned home, there was one person who was conspicuously absent. The elder son was out in the fields, working as he had for years. In contrast to his younger brother, the older son had stayed home, working hard and obeying his father.

When he came in from another hard day’s work, the elder brother saw all the lights on in the house, heard the music and laughter, and noticed the activity of the servants. In answer to his questions, a servant replied that the younger son had returned and the father was welcoming him home with a huge party. The older son didn’t think this was such a good idea. In fact, he was pretty ticked off and refused to go into the house and join the festivities.

When the father came out to ask his oldest son to join them, he refused. He complained that during all the years he had spent doing everything the father had wanted, being the dutiful son, he had never even received one single goat to have a cookout with his friends. “On top of that, this son of yours has wasted his inheritance on wild parties and whores, and you’ve killed the fattened calf for him?”

How many of us have, at one or more times in our lives, been upset because grace has been shown to an individual who is a “worse sinner” than we are? (I see that hand. It’s mine) We just can’t believe that they got away with it! Our attitude is often the same as that of the Americans who rejoiced when Osama Bin-Laden was killed. That so-and-so got what he deserved. We want justice (usually meaning what the other person deserves) when it comes to others, yet many times we would prefer that mercy be shown to us. Sometimes, while the angels in heaven are rejoicing over one sinner who has repented, we are taking a wait and see attitude. After all, we don’t want to be played for a fool.

Sometimes we are like the elder brother when we think that because we have been good little boys and girls, God owes us. We wonder why God doesn’t answer our requests, because after all, we’ve been faithful in church, we’ve served others, we’ve had faith and claimed that answer, whatever. Then, when God doesn’t “come through” for us, we start looking around for answers. Maybe I didn’t have enough faith. Maybe I didn’t pray hard enough. Maybe I need to search my heart and see if there’s a sin I forgot to confess. Or, we begin to doubt the goodness of God toward us. “If God really loves me, why didn’t he give me what I want.”

Like the prodigal, the elder brother forgot who we was. Even though he had never left the property, he too had left home. He had forgotten the character of his father. The father was obviously a kind, loving, and generous man. He was full of grace and mercy, and wanted the best for his sons. He was quick to forgive, and to let past offenses stay in the past. Interestingly, that sounds a whole lot like our Father. He is slow to anger, and quick to forgive. He doesn’t dredge up our past and hold it against us. He loves his children with an everlasting love, and his heart is good to us.

We can not earn the grace of our Father. It is his to give freely, and his alone. We are not to look on others and complain when they don’t “get what they deserve.” Most of the time we don’t know how God is working in another individuals life. To paraphrase Aslan, God is not telling us their story, he is only telling us ours. Judging whether or not a person should receive grace is way above our pay grade. We are called to rejoice when others rejoice. Kind of like the angels.

We have all been the elder brother in some way or another. Our Abba is calling us to join the party.

Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Younger Son

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Blast From the Past: The Prodigal Son – The Younger Son

This was first posted back in 2011. There are a couple of minor edits.

Today, I’m starting a four part series on the story of the Prodigal Son. The story of the prodigal is a story of God’s grace to his wayward children when they come home. It is also a story with a number of layers that speak to us in different ways at different times in our lives. Henri Nouwen wrote a book titled, The Return of the Prodigal Son, based on his reflections on a painting by Rembrandt. My ramblings come largely from reading this book.

The first person we encounter in the story is the younger son. This son comes to his father and asks for his part of the inheritance that would come to him after his father dies. This is more than just a request to get money due him earlier than he would normally receive it. The ones who heard this story would have been outraged at the attitude of the younger son. In effect, he was saying to his father, “I reject you and everything you stand for, your culture, your religion, everything. I wish you were dead!” In a culture where rebellious children could be stoned to death, this was a dangerous and devastating statement for the son to make and for the father to hear. The father however, decided to give his son what he asked for. He handed over the money and said goodbye. As a father, I can imagine the heartbreak he went through as one of his sons turned his back on everything and left.

The younger son went off to a “distant country,” where he squandered his inheritance on parties and whores. He was completely deaf to the voice that would have reminded him of his father’s love and of what he had been taught. In short, he forgot who he was. I would imagine that most of us can see ourselves in the younger son in some way. Some may have wandered into a life of dissipation and come out of it. Others may have experimented with some things but not gone all the way in. In my own life, I was drawn in to things that were not good for me, although I never wandered completely away. Of course, there are some out there who would consider me a prodigal today.

There is another way to be the younger son, a way that many, many more have fallen into. That is the way of forgetting whose child we are and trying to get our identity from other things or other people. That is the way I most identify with the prodigal. Whether it’s from a job, a skill, a style, or a group of people, we try to prove our worth by other things than what our Father says. Our culture says that what is important is how you dress, what job you have, what kind of car you drive, how much money you make, or what group you hang out with. Unfortunately, those things become like the husks the prodigal wished to eat while feeding the pigs. Trying to find our worth and identity in any thing of this world is a futile exercise, leading to emptiness.

Fortunately for the prodigal, he did come to his senses and remember who he was. I can see him slapping himself on the forehead, and saying, “What am I doing here? I’m not a pig farmer! I’m a son of a father who has a lot of money and food! Why am I starving here?” So, after coming to his senses he returned home. He still didn’t completely remember who we was though. Or better, he didn’t understand completely the kind of person his father was. His plan was to go home and convince his father to give him a job. He didn’t believe his father would accept him back as a son. We sometimes also forget who we are dealing with when we go to our Father. We believe the lies that we can’t be his child if we do certain things, or that we have to do something to get ourselves back into his good graces. We feel we have to “get right with God.” We forget that our Father loves us and always accepts us.

The son returns and finds himself in the midst of a homecoming better than he could have imagined. He can’t get his prepared speech out before his father welcomes him back and throws the biggest party the neighborhood has ever seen. So it is when we come to our senses and remember who we are. We are beloved children of the Creator of the universe. He is pleased with us, and there is absolutely nothing we can do to cause his love to decrease, and nothing we can do to increase his love. He holds us in his hands and nothing can pull us out. Period.

Remember who you are. If you’ve forgotten, your Father is looking for your return so he can lavish his grace and love on you.