It ain’t over ‘til it’s over

Last week we enjoyed a few days of mid-winter warmth and sunshine, so I took advantage of that to walk around the Lunsford Trail at ACU after work. I was hoping for a beautiful sunset to accompany me!  Started out southbound and discovered fairly quickly that I had ensured my back would be to the sun most of the trip (i.e., mistake). We had some high clouds that were promising, but buildings obscured my view, and it looked like clouds close to the horizon were going to mess things up, so I just kept walking.  As I returned to home base, I thought sunset was over, but I decided to walk to the far side of the pond to stretch and cool down.  Then I turned around and the miracle began in earnest! First, bright red touched the tips of the clouds, then it expanded to the whole sky. Even the pond turned red as it reflected the glory overhead.  If I’d just gotten into my car and headed home, I would have missed it!

ACU's Faubus Pond, with the Hunter Welcome Center in the background

Sunrises and sunsets are like that.  They often unfold over an extended period of time, sometimes 30-40 minutes from start to finish.  There will be flashes of brilliant color, but those rarely last the whole time. Much of that 30-40 minutes will seem somewhat pedestrian compared to the times of magnificence.  Sometimes there are the cloudy days that seem colorless and endless. But even when it’s “over,” there is more glory yet to come – the beauty of a blue sky filled with cotton ball clouds, or the splendor of the Milky Way, or the rain that the clouds might bring.

Life is like that, too. Ups, downs, twists, turns - often more grey clouds than sparkling red and gold.

I think that’s why passages from 2 Corinthians resonate in our hearts. Paul must have been thinking about God’s glory and how it is revealed in the lives of women and men when he wrote these words:

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit. (2 Cor. 3:17-18)

For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. (2 Cor. 4:6-7)

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. (2 Cor. 4:17-18)

So many days I don't feel glorious! So many mistakes, so many flaws, so many dreams unfulfilled. The amazing news is that God is in charge of glory! He's the Glory-Giver, Transformer, User-of-Clay-Jars, Renewer. He sees the glory unseen to us, the final result that is hidden from our eyes for the present time. He even sees glory in what we would view as the least glorious parts of our lives - the things we would rather hide - because He knows that those things, too, are part of what is bringing us to glory in reality.

So if you're having a hard time seeing the glory in yourself this week, take hope in the glimpses of glory in the world around you. God's work isn't over in you, and His purposes for you will prevail.

Evening lullaby

In that stillness that comes but rarely to the land of wind,
     a blue heron stands like a statue,
          pondering the universe from the shallows of the lake,
               nature mirrored in beautiful symmetry
                    beside the paralleled images of man-made giants
               stretched out across the water's surface.
          As the deepening shadows move from gold to pink to blue,
     Father tucks us in with a soft blanket of color
and gently sings us to sleep.

The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
He will quiet you with his love,
He will rejoice over you with singing. (Zephaniah 3:17)

The road less traveled

In 2012, I had more than my usual share of travel. Whenever I have business trips away from Abilene, I like to tack on a day or two on my own dime to see the local sights.  I had the chance to explore Boston, Gloucester, and Rockport in Massachusetts, then just a few weeks later went to Minneapolis for the first time, taking a side trip to the north shore of Lake Superior, and down through Wisconsin and over to Red Wing, Minnesota.

Here’s my motto for road trips:  It’s not a good trip unless you get lost at least once, and that usually involves me ending up in the worst part of town!  Technology has made travel easier, though not always better.  This is my third trip to Boston, and I really hoped that the nice GPS lady would talk me through successfully to drop off my rental car….but she failed me at the last moment.  Then came the words of death:  “Recalculating…recalculating.”  Twenty miles and a round trip of Boston later, I found out that the southern approach is much easier!

My experience in Minnesota was the opposite. Interstates are fine, but at some point I’d rather see some of the local color.  Since I had my trusty paper map with me, I had a pretty good idea of where I wanted to cut off the highway.  Usually once you get a few miles down the road, the GPS will get with the program and catch up with the back roads path. But this time, it did everything in its power to get me back to the interstate, including directing me to back track several miles north.  What beauties I would have missed! Rivers, flowers, cornfields as far as the eye could see and taller than my head, old churches and red barns, dairy cows and the small towns of the Wisconsin heartland – none of these were on the “planned” route.  Yes, it took me a lot longer to arrive, but the joy was in the journey.

Those two different experiences aren’t too different from the journeys you and I experience in daily life.  On the one hand, sometimes we think we know exactly where we want to go – everything’s planned out, the itinerary is in place, the timeline is tight. Then something happens – an illness, a job loss, the death of someone dear, or even something as simple as the daily, grinding burden of chronic worry and stress – and I’m left circling, disoriented, out of time and place, wondering if I’ll ever reach the destination or even survive the trip. Hope can be crushed, hearts broken, dreams seemingly unfulfilled. And, by the way, where is God in this?

On the other hand, sometimes I know the destination but have lost the wonder of the journey.  Mile after mindless mile of 6:30 a.m. alarm rings, diapers changed, reports submitted, church services attended, parents cared for – the mileage adds up, the trucks stops all look the same, the cry of “are we there yet?” is spoken by the adults instead of the children. Is God present in all these things, too?

I bet Noah could relate as he spent a year confined to the ark, doing the same things and surrounded by the same smells every day; the desert wanderers, the slaves in Egypt, the captives in exile – they, too, felt the heaviness of looking out to the horizon and seeing the same deserted landscape, day after day.  Peter, Paul, Philip, and the Ethiopian eunuch understood what it meant to have their travel plans suddenly interrupted.

I think there’s something in common we can reach for in either scenario.  Listen to the words of Isaiah 42:5-6a, 16:

This is what God the LORD says—
the Creator of the heavens, who stretches them out,
    who spreads out the earth with all that springs from it,
    who gives breath to its people,
    and life to those who walk on it:
“I, the LORD, have called you in righteousness;
    I will take hold of your hand.”

“I will lead the blind by ways they have not known,
    along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;
I will turn the darkness into light before them
    and make the rough places smooth.
These are the things I will do;
    I will not forsake them.”

Isaiah helps us circle back to the basics:

• God created me and breathed life into me – a deliberate act that speaks to His love and care.
• God created the beautiful world, and it shows the great extent of His power, might, and generosity. Looking at God’s creation helps me see God.
• God is present with me, whether I comprehend it or not – personally holding my hand.
• God can see the path when it is obscured to me, and He knows how to get me to my destination.

The road less traveled is one where my eyes are open to God’s work, God’s creativity, God’s presence, God’s direction.  I hope I’ll see you there!

P.S.  Here’s a few of the things I would have missed if my eyes weren’t open!

 

 

 

 

 

Balsam Lake, Wisconsin

O hush the noise

Yesterday, I finally was able to take the photography class in Dallas that Brian bought me for my birthday (the last one was rained out).

We met at White Rock Lake in Dallas.  I hadn't been there in years, and we were blessed with lovely weather to enjoy it.  Our teacher, Henry, is a soft-spoken man who has been a commercial photographer for 25 years.  He spent the first portion of the class discussing composition techniques and showing us photographs to illustrate.  Then he closed the book, looked around the group, and smiled.  "Your first assignment," he said, "is to walk around for the next 5-10 minutes. Do not take any photographs. We live in such a fast-paced world that we miss so much. Instead of letting your feet set their usual pace, let your eyes set the pace. If you see something interesting, go look at it, from all angles, and only move on when you are satisfied. Then meet back here." 

This might be a good time to mention the condition in which I arrived to class.  After enjoying a delightful morning with my grandmother, I left Grand Prairie with what I considered to be a generous amount of time to arrive (an hour). Zipped along on I-30, and then things stopped about 3 miles short of the mixmaster.  Wreck?  Yes, I saw one. SMU football game?  Probably. It's been a while since I pounded on the steering wheel in frustration, but that happened, too.  Finally made it to White Rock 30 minutes late for class and in quite a state.  Talk about your feet setting the pace.  Let's just say Henry's instruction was timely.


We spent the next 90 minutes meandering around the shoreline, letting our eyes set the pace. It's amazing what you see when time and obligations are taken out of the equation, and when you're given some guidance over what to look for - a kite in a tree; the shadow cast by a leaf; the man who spent all afternoon sitting and enjoying the sunshine; plants with fluffy seeds glowing in the sun; ripples in the water made by an unseen object underneath the surface; the texture of a tree's bark; the S-curves of a goose's long, sinuous neck. 

You hear things, too - the man playing bongo drums; the cacophany of geese and gulls and ducks and grackles; the lapping of water; the laughter of a child along the shoreline; the whir of an approaching bicycle; quiet conversations between friends walking the path.

As we regathered to share photos and unpack the experience, Henry observed something important. He said it never fails to be true that when he brings people here and they let their eyes set the pace, they are changed - changed physically, in posture, in demeanor, in spirit.  I felt it myself.  The gift he gave me extended far beyond learning to take a better photograph.

This morning at Minter Lane we shared carols and readings about the birth of Christ as we continue celebrating the Advent season.  It's easy to roll past those lyrics that we know so well, but we sang one of the lesser-used verses in "It Came Upon the Midnight Clear":

Yet with the woes of sin and strife the world has suffered long;
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled two thousand years of wrong;
And men, at war with men, hear not the love song which they bring:
O hush the noise, ye men of strife, and hear the angels sing.

May I make a confession?  I know Christmas is supposed to be my favorite time of year....but it's generally not.  It is stressful, loud, tiring, with schedules out of whack. And as I get older, the dissonance in my mind between what is expected (buying presents, decorating), the person I want to be (filled with the shalom of Christ), and what the world dishes out as "Christmas" is somewhat appalling.  I feel like a spiritual failure, seemingly unable to get past all of this to hone in on the heart of the season.

This morning as we sang this hymn, written over 160 years ago, I was struck by what a timely message it contains. Sometimes I think it must have been easier back in the good old days.  But composer Edmund Sears felt the tension, too.  Each generation has its version of sin, strife, wrong, suffering, war, and deafness to the love song the angels sang to the Bethlehem shepherds.

Father, please help me hush the noise so I can hear Your song, in Advent and always.

Standing on the promises

You know how God sometimes arranges a sequence of events so that you’re bombarded with a particular theme from a variety of sources? That’s recently happened to me. Our kids on Wednesday nights are studying this whole year on the covenants of God; last month we studied about Noah, this month about Abraham, so I’ve been looking at clip art to help the children associate their memory verses to God’s promises. Last week Jonathan Storment from Highland spoke in chapel about the Noah story, though in a somewhat different context, and this week Justin Hatfield spoke on the covenant with Abraham. OK, OK, I get it!

The big attention-getter for me came about ten days ago. Brian and I took a quick trip to Angel Fire, NM to rest, read, and rejuvenate. The scenery there is lovely and teeming with wildlife. We experienced everything from sun to thunderstorms to snow during our four days there. I had the opportunity to see the “signs” of God’s promises in nature. Here are a few examples:

 

And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and you and every living creature with you, a covenant for all generations to come: I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. Whenever I bring clouds over the earth and the rainbow appears in the clouds, I will remember my covenant between me and you and all living creatures of every kind. Never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all life. (Gen. 8:12-15)

Then the word of the Lord came to him: “This man will not be your heir, but a son who is your own flesh and blood will be your heir.” He took him outside and said, “Look up at the sky and count the stars—if indeed you can count them.” Then he said to him, “So shall your offspring be.” (Gen. 15:4-5)

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?..... But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. (Matt. 6:25-27, 33)

The same God who keeps those promises is faithful to keep them all. There are days I need to remember some more than others! Here are a few of my favorites – I hope you’ll add yours to the comments below.  

God's constant presence:  Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.” So we say with confidence, “The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can mere mortals do to me?” (Heb. 13:5-6)

God's plan for our future:  Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going. (John 14:1-4) 

God's rest:  Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. (Matt. 11:28-29) 

God's grace when I'm weak:  But [God] said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. (2 Cor. 12:9) 

God's protection: Jesus said, "My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one can snatch them away from me, for my Father has given them to me, and he is more powerful than anyone else. No one can snatch them from the Father’s hand." (John 10:27-30, NLT) 

God's peace:  I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world. (John 16:33, NIV) 

God's help when I am afraid: 

Don’t be afraid. I am with you.
Don’t tremble with fear.
I am your God.
I will make you strong,
as I protect you with my arm
and give you victories. (Is. 41:10, CEV)

Remembering what God has done in the past gives us a quiet confidence in what He will do in our present and future. Thanks be to God!

Saying Kaddish

On Saturday we buried my grandfather, Bun Bun. I wrote about him earlier this summer - he made the last leg of his earthly journey on Wednesday. Family and friends from far and near gathered to mourn our loss and celebrate his gain.

The service was unlike any I had ever attended. Weeping, yes. Sadness, too. But we had church - and not some boring monologue. Bun Bun loved music, so we sang several songs he loved, including Holy Ground. A friend and community pastor sang He Touched Me, which was his hands-down favorite, and rightfully so - he was a man who had been touched by the Lord and was never the same. We laughed hard as stories were shared. There were amens and clapping punctuating the remarks throughout.

The best part, however, came as Pastor Skaar shared about the last few hours of Bun Bun's life. His long-time cardiologist, Dr. Bode, went by for a visit and asked Bun how he was doing. The answer surprised him: "I'm going to my reward." Later that evening, my uncle noticed him struggling to sit up. As Dan went to his bedside, Bun Bun raised both of his hands in the air, saying "Hallelujah! Hallelujah!" He then entered his eternal rest. I can't imagine a better ending to the life he lived.

Recently I read the book Night by Elie Wiesel. Wiesel speaks toward the end of the book about the Jewish custom of saying Kaddish for the dead.  I know very little about the liturgy of Kaddish and its place in Jewish theology, but what I have read fascinates me.  Here is an English translation of the mourner's Kaddish: 

Glorified and sanctified be God's great name throughout the world which He has created according to His will. May He establish His kingdom in your lifetime and during your days, and within the life of the entire House of Israel, speedily and soon; and say, Amen.

May His great name be blessed forever and to all eternity.

Blessed and praised, glorified and exalted, extolled and honored, adored and lauded be the name of the Holy One, blessed be He, beyond all the blessings and hymns, praises and consolations that are ever spoken in the world; and say, Amen.

May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life, for us and for all Israel; and say, Amen.

He who creates peace in His celestial heights, may He create peace for us and for all Israel; and say, Amen. 

It's noteworthy that the mourner's Kaddish says nothing about the dead! It instead magnifies the character and qualities of our Creator God. What better way to give mourning the appropriate context? Saying Kaddish is a deliberate act in the face of grief, an acknowledgement of God's eternal existence that is so briefly punctuated by a human life, a reorientation much like Habakkuk's determination to praise God whether the fig trees fail or the stalls lie empty. And all of the "amens" call the community to stand with the mourners in agreement.

The next day at church was an extension of the worship begun on Saturday. My grandparents' church has been through hard times lately, including the sudden death of their minister just about a month ago, and now one of their elders. As I stood beside my 91-year old grandmother, with tears streaming down my cheeks, she joined the congregation in singing these words:

So listen to our hearts, hear our spirits sing
A song of praise that flows from those You have redeemed.
We will use the words we know to tell you what an awesome God you are,
But words are not enough to tell you of our love,
So listen to our hearts. 

So, though we are not Jewish, we say Kaddish - for Vernon Jackson, for Larry Keirn, for Dorman Vance, for so many gone before and those yet to come.  May God's great name be blessed forever and to all eternity. Amen and amen.

A still, small voice

This week I've had the privilege of traveling to Minnesota and Wisconsin for the first time. I had a conference in Minneapolis, but I decided to spend a couple of vacation days exploring before the conference began.

This part of the country is quite beautiful.  It ranges from land that's pretty flat around Minneapolis (though very green!), to hills and falls and rivers, to amazing Lake Superior, to agriculturally rich farmland.

However, for some reason I was captivated on this trip by the sounds I heard. And the sounds reminded me of the story of Elijah's flight from King Ahab chronicled in 1 Kings 19. After 40 days and nights in the wilderness, Elijah had a lot of questions for God.  The response?  An amazing offer to stand in the Lord's presence as He passed by.  You may remember how this transpired:

Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.  When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.

I don't know exactly what it was that Elijah heard, but he gained clarity from watching and listening, even to the sights and sounds that the Lord was "not in."

Not sure how it is with you, but I am perpetually surrounded by a cacophany of sounds - TV, Spotify or Pandora, the dinging of text messages or Words With Friends, phones ringing, background conversations, traffic noise, even things like the sounds of  the air conditioner cycling on and off, the dishwasher, the washer or dryer. These aren't bad things. But I often have a hard time hearing the gentle whisper of God in the midst of it.  It's good to have a change of environment occasionally - it throws me off balance just enough to notice things that I've stopped noticing.

I had forgotten the song the aspens sing when the breeze blows, almost like a tiny wind chime in the distance, swirling and whirling around the trees.  

The roar of water over Gooseberry Falls spoke of the power and persistence of God.  

Lake Superior was a study in contrasts, a huge almost-ocean that lapped quietly and gently against the rocky shores.  

The little skitter in the woods always made me stop in my tracks in hopes of seeing a bird or squirrel or chipmunk, holding my breath, waiting in stillness to see what would happen next. 

Even something recorded - Handel's Messiah - out of the official Christmas season, spoke the word of the Lord to me:  "For since by man came death, by man came also the resurrection of the dead.  For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ shall all be made alive."  

So many messages from our Father!  Here are a few:

• I AM the breath - the holy wind - of life, ever present, ever speaking, ever refreshing.
• I AM the Living Water - life-sustaining, cleansing, bringing a steady pressure that erodes sharp edges and carries debris away.
• I AM the only being who is enormous and small at the same time - enormous enough to create the universe, while choosing to become small enough to dwell in the hearts of people.
• I AM revealing Myself in tiny ways that you will miss unless you stop, just for a moment, to listen and observe.  You think that's just a squirrel?  Take a minute to marvel at its tiny hands, to watch the way the sun makes its furry tail glow, to see its industry and enthusiasm for the work I made it to do ... and be thankful that I AM present in all the details, squirrel details and people details.
• Behold, I AM making all things new!

I hope in the next day or two that you can take a few minutes to listen to God's still, small voice.  Take a walk.  Sit in your backyard and watch the sunset.  Do one thing at a time and be fully present in that act, whatever it may be.  You might just get a chance to hear God's whisper in the ordinary ... if there is really such a thing as ordinary.