Rejoicing in goodness

“let thy priests, O LORD God, be clothed with salvation, and let thy saints rejoice in goodness.” -2 Chron. 6:41

What does a volunteer firemen’s fundraising dinner, a day at Dollywood, and a Christmas choral concert have in common? All three represent a picture, in part, of what’s right with the world.

We were overnight in Walden Creek, Tennessee, (population: 50 something?) and didn’t feel like going in to town for dinner. A large sign was set out just down the road promising in big letters a home cooked meal and auction as a fundraising event for the local fire hall. We bit. At the appointed time, the place was packed. Food was in abundance, and dinner was a great deal, just $8.00. This group of volunteers had been cooking 200 pounds of turkey and fixings all day. Home-made desserts covered two tables. A local musical group of middle aged men were playing guitars making some pleasant enough music, easily pleased with themselves. I scanned the rows of lockers and fire hats adorning the long wall. Each one represented a man who took his place in the line out of a sense of pride and honor. Volunteer firemen; must be a rare breed. The ladies who supported them by baking cakes and cookies and serving up 200 pounds of turkey certainly must come from good stock as well. Listening to conversation at the table revealed a local politician who just loved to work the crowd out of a genuine love for God, country, and Walden Creek. There was little other apparent reason for seeking office in such a place. Another was a retired man who had come to find his truest and best calling in life working in a nearby home for special needs children. It was small-town community life at its best; men and women coming together to work for the good of all. It kind of made me proud to be an American again.

Just a few weeks earlier, there was this special day at Dollywood. Dollywood is a slick package of commercial kitsch at its worst, but on the other hand it holds up and embraces so much that is good, even if it is pretend for just a day. Families stroll together hand in hand making a memory for their children or even grandparents. This is not a place where rebels, drunks, and the wild folk would even want to come. It is all about roller coasters and funnel cakes and carved baseball bats; good stuff where kids of all ages can come free of embarrassment. Talent, skills, and crafts are all showcased to inspire us to maybe create or achieve something lasting, something beautiful, something of value, all by ourselves. Costumes took us back to a time when clothes were worn to connote station and to please others. The fun came in small, clean packages of rides and cotton candy and ice cream all without the greasy, carny types who look like sinister, tattooed, fugitives from justice. The hired help were actually helpful. The gospel music flowed freely, without stricture or embarrassment, and pulsed with joy. This was life as it could be, should be; except, of course, for the high priced lunches.

And this week, the area Home School Christmas choir concert put on by 60 young men and women showed yet another picture of life as it could be, should be. The songs poured forth in rich variety demonstrating the incredible abundance of artistic and musical fascination with the story of Christmas over the centuries. Every land, every era has produced musical praise in majestic and memorable manner; all taken by the amazing advent of God in flesh. And that is as it should be. It is impossible to sing these songs of Zion and be mad at the world, or your neighbor. Beautiful as well was the sight of young men and young women, acting in concert, complimenting each other in bold unison or subtle harmony. No room for gender animosities or exploitive manipulation here. Peace reigned as all were held thrall to a director’s lead, a clue for how to find peace when all follow after the Master’s will. And just to have a concert is proof that the world is temporarily, anyway, safe for the arts that warm the soul but serve no real, practical purpose.

In a world gone sour in so many ways, isn’t it grand we can still catch glimpses of the image of God in his goodness in day to day existence? May we keep looking for it, and find it, and cherish it.

Mercy and Truth, Mr. Moe

Bad News, Good News

“How blessed is everyone who fears the Lord, who walks in His ways.” -Ps. 128:1

Here it is, not even two weeks into the new school year, and already I’ve seen tears; and not from young kindergarten students on their first day away from home. These are moms, and probably there are some dads as well stifling the emotion welling up within them. The carefully nursed expectations of the new year are suddenly dashed as students come face to face with the brick walls of reality. School can be tough. Friendships fragile. Shortcomings revealed. And the grass on the other side of some imaginary fence all of a sudden is ablaze with a vibrant green.

For those with struggles straight out of the gate, I am moved with compassion. Hard starts are discouraging. But if the book of true confessions were written, there are plenty of doubts hanging out in everyone’s anxiety closet. Yes, every family in school, every parent, every student, every husband or wife has one. I have one. It is part of our nature to dwell on the dark side at times, and when we do we see nothing but warts and wrinkles, imperfections and weaknesses, mistakes and fears.

Is the future ahead one of promise or peril? Given our propensity for bad news, we generally fear the worst. The daily news seems to just reinforce our preconception of things sliding down a slippery slope into the abyss of no return. Just thinking about where we are headed can conjure up depressing images something akin to John’s Revelations. But how much of that is fed by a media cycle that feeds upon the bizarre and the sensational? And is there any good news?

I was pleasantly surprised to find that there is. A Christian sociologist from the University of Connecticut, Bradley Wright, has come out with a book entitled, “Christians Are Hate-Filled Hypocrites …and Other Lies You’ve Been Told.” He has explored some modern, commonly held conceptions and found them to be more urban legend and myth than truth. Myth#1: Christians have a higher divorce rate than non-Christians. He did the research and found that evangelicals and those who have greater rates of church attendance are not as likely to go through divorce. Myth#2: Young evangelical youth are leaving the faith in droves. He compared youth of today with the youth of their grandparent’s era and found roughly the same trends. The young are always less religious than the old. In fact, church attendance in the 20th century was greater than in the 19th century. Myth #3: Abstinence programs don’t work. Prof. Wright found that there is a significant correlation between church attendance and abstinence among unmarried youth. Myth #4: There is more poverty and hunger today than ever before. Actual case is that hunger has decreased, but our immediate awareness of what does exist is up significantly. Myth #5: Totalitarianism is on the rise. Truth is that democracy has significantly increased over the past 50 years and is still growing. Besides the obvious tabloid journalism, Christians are partly to blame for our tendency to pick up the black flag of world demise and point to end times near at hand.

We have an enemy that loves to do the same within the looped memories of our minds. He loves to replay my failures and projected fears which are many. But Ps. 128 arrested my attention this week with its beautiful promises of blessing for those who fear him. My marriage and family are far from perfect, but I can unquestionably see how these promises have come to fruition in my life. All of a sudden I am looking at good news instead of bad. My wife has been a fruitful vine, my children like olive plants. I have eaten of the fruit of my hands, and I have lived to see my children’s children. The Lord has blessed from Zion in spite of tears, stumblings, mistakes, and numerable shortcomings. Perhaps we fail to see the prosperity of our Jerusalems because we fail to look for it. May we look for the good news and find cause to be grateful.

Mercy and Truth, Mr. Moe

suicide

“Therefore, since through God's mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart.” 2 Cor. 4:1

Summer is all about fun in the sun and all that good stuff. I hate to spoil the mood, but I come to you with some good but somber reflections regarding suicide. It is the 11th most common cause of death in the U.S. and takes the life of an American on average every 17 minutes. The highest toll is among the elderly over the age of 60 who account for 40% of the statistics. Being in that age group, I speak to myself first of all. But the most disturbing trend is among our youth. It is the 2nd most common cause of death among teens.

I have been studying 2 Corinthians, chapters 3 &4, and I think I see an antidote and a way to suicide-proof our children and grandchildren. Paul writes at length about the indwelling power of the Spirit of God to transform a life and to empower it for the work of the ministry. Moses had a ministry that was glorious in his day yet it faded and only worked death through the Law. We have a much superior ministry of the Spirit that produces righteousness (3:9) and liberty (3:17). It is the same ministry of the Spirit that empowered our Lord to “…preach good tidings unto the meek; … to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn; to appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.” (Isa. 61:1-3). Paul makes it quite clear that we are not adequate in ourselves for such things (2:16, 3:5) but that this is the work of the Lord; that our adequacy comes from God.

“THEREFORE, since through God’s mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart.” (4:1) Suicide claims as its victims those who have totally lost heart. They have lost sight of any purpose for living and certainly of any role in God’s kingdom as His royal agents and ambassadors of Christ. We have this treasure, the ministry of the Spirit of the living God, in earthen vessels that brings purpose to life and hope to every circumstance. Those who have a clear understanding of the ministry and mission that they have been given by God may be afflicted but will not be crushed, may become perplexed but will not despair, may be persecuted but will not feel forsaken, and may even be struck down but cannot be destroyed (4:8-9). They are immune to the despair that breeds thoughts of self-destruction.

I am picturing three little boats in History that were built with very humble purposes in mind but ended up shaking the world. One was a small and simple sailboat that sat neglected for years in an old cabin in Russia. A young prince named Peter discovered it one day, retrieved it, and learned a love for sailing. His dreams escalated from there as Czar of all the Russias to seek for his country a warm-water port on the ocean that would bring Russia into the modern age and make her a world power. Another simple fishing boat sat on the shores of the island of Elba in the Mediterranean where it served no major purpose until Napoleon Bonaparte appropriated it one night and escaped his exile to return to the mainland where he went on to force the world to a bloody showdown at Waterloo. Another simple rowboat here in America went on to great fame as the boat that carried General George Washington across the Delaware, a critical and victorious turning point in the American Revolution. In each case, the boat was nothing, but the personage it carried was everything.

If we can instill in our children (as well as the aged) a sense of destiny as to the personage of the Holy Spirit they carry within them and the grand purposes He is about, we will not have to worry about them becoming another grim statistic. They will not lose heart. Nor will we.

Significance

“Thou tellest my wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book?” - Psalms 56:8

Just how special are you? A clue comes from modern pathology science which has discovered the unique, special mark that each person carries within their DNA. A recent crime story took this simple fact one step further as investigators solved an abduction and murder case involving a 5 year old girl by analyzing the tear stains on the passenger side of her killer’s car. There, within those stains, was found the unmistakable proof of the little girl’s DNA identity. How poignant that this little girl’s tears solved her own murder case. How incredibly powerful is the knowledge that our tears are uniquely laced with our own one-of-a-kind personhood.

In ancient times, we are told that mourners at funerals would collect their tears in little bottles and place them with the body upon burial. Evidence of this has been found in tombs in Rome and Palestine sometimes in great profusion. From this we can flesh out the picture of Psalm 56:8 where God is said to collect our tears in His bottle; or as the indelible stains upon the pages of our record. Our tears are uniquely our own, and our God knows them all.

Two lessons come clear to me upon reflection on this truth. One, each one of us is completely different from all other persons who have ever walked on the earth or will take breath in this world. When the Scriptures talk about a victim’s blood crying out from the ground for justice, we know now that every drop of our blood has our name on it. We are imprinted from birth with a mark that sets us apart from all others. When lost in a large crowd of thousands or imagine ourselves swallowed up amidst the millions of China, we need never lose track of our own unique significance in the eyes of God. And, in fact, He has numbered the very hairs of our head. He sees the sparrow fall but proclaims we are of far greater worth. Such knowledge is too high for me. I cannot attain to it. Yet it is sweetly comforting.

Secondly, God has ordained that we live such lives where tears are inevitable. Sorrow and grief follow in our steps as surely as death follows life. Ever since our expulsion from the garden, pain and suffering are an endemic part of our lives. At one time, my immature thoughts considered pain as either the result of my own poor thought processes or someone else’s. If we were just smart enough, pain could be avoided altogether. Either that or pain was just a result of some bad luck which, like lightning, strikes without cause or warning: a twist of cruel but random fate. I see pain and suffering now as more a constant part of the fabric of our lives: as destined for us as earning our bread by the sweat of our brow.

Yet God, Himself, stepped into our world and took on the limitations and pain of man. Dorothy Sayers wrote, “For whatever reason God chose to make man as he is – limited and suffering and subject to sorrows and death – He had the honesty and courage to take His own medicine… He has Himself gone through the whole of human experience, from the trivial irritations of family life and the cramping restrictions of hard work and lack of money to the worst horrors of pain and humiliation, defeat, despair and death. When He was a man, He played the man. He was born in poverty and died in disgrace and thought it well worthwhile.”* We, too, can walk this vale of tears and find it all worthwhile. Especially as we know we are uniquely significant. Not only that, but we are hovered over by the lover of our souls, one who has experienced all the limitations of the flesh, who keeps a record of all our tears until the day when all sorrow shall cease; no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying when He will wipe away every tear.

*Dorothy Sayers, Creed or Chaos? (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1949), 4.

Completely Loved

“Henceforth I call you not servants; … but I have called you friends;” -John 15:15

A visit to Mrs. Miller’s 4^th gr. class was on my agenda the other week, and so I went to just observe and be as unobtrusive as possible. Before I could enter the room, however, a display of student work on the door arrested my attention and held me riveted by what I began to read. It was just one of those simple fill-in-the-blank exercises that elementary teachers use to get to know their students and elicit some creative expression. Under a photo of themselves, students filled in the blanks with statements about themselves that ranged from the humorous to the profound. A girl wrote: The important thing about me is that I love God. I love my family and my friends. I love my enemies but not working outside on a very hot day. Oh, that all of us found loving our enemies preferable over working outside on a very hot day. Wow! Another wrote: I like ice cream and vegetables but not mold! The most important think about me is I love Jesus, the Christ. Without a doubt, this most important thing is the most important thing. May we do as well to remember.

While these stabbed me to the heart (all the while standing there with a door half opened), one response brought tears to my soul that came close to seeping out the eyes. A girl wrote: The important thing about me is just being me! I like school so much! I like school because my teacher is fun, and my classmates are all great! I also like all the subjects – they are very fun but not English as much. I also like doing cartwheels (a lot) and playing with my sister! I think we play well together. But the most important thing about me is that I am completely loved, completely accepted, and completely significant!!!

I stood there stunned that any 4^th grader would be able to say that they were completely loved, completely accepted, and completely significant at that tender age. I wanted to file a letter of complaint against my upbringing and bring suit against all involved because I was never able to say any such thing let alone be able to even spell those words. How many of us could simply sit in wonder at how we might have matured, how different things might have been, and what results might have followed had we been able to say in 4^th grade, I am completely loved, completely accepted, and completely significant.

My first suspicion upon further reflection was that the parents had coached their daughter on what to say. And so I interviewed them over the phone trying to ascertain the source of these words that had so gripped my imagination. No, there was no dictation involved. The student had freely transcribed these stirring sentiments on her own. But there had been a conscious and deliberate pouring into this young heart a series of devotions taken from God’s word that underlined these very things. Though I am sure that these parents had invested much of their time in giving their children a sense of their own love and acceptance, in the end it is the Scriptures that brings the deepest and most satisfying answer to the child’s heart. For every child instinctively knows that there are secrets and closets within each of us that are known only to God. Parental love is important, but God’s love is even more important because he knows us, oh, so intimately. Once God’s love is grasped and accepted, we are free to love one another as witnessed by the positive words of affirmation towards all of life throughout this young girl’s responses.

It is my prayer that all our students may come to the full knowledge of our standing with God, the creator of heaven and earth, who stoops and deigns to call us, “friend.” Nothing shows the need more than a recent survey of Knox Co. middle school students which revealed that 17% of them had considered killing themselves, 12% had made a plan, and 7% had made an attempt. How desperate the need.

The New

"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing!” -NIV Isaiah 43:18-19

It has begun. A parent stopped me on Monday to exclaim how the first day of school is always so exciting. I marveled, somewhat, as this was coming from a former teacher who had experienced many first days of school in her recent past. Yet, she was genuinely excited in large part because of her children and their first day of a new year, a new grade, a new teacher, and a new school. She was not alone as I sensed the electricity everywhere on that first morning. Our new teachers, especially, were tuned to a fever pitch. And returning teachers were exultant over the new students they were receiving.

There is something distinctly human about all this. There is an inherent love for new things in the human heart that can’t be disguised. A new job, a new house, or a new baby all bring a certain kind of joy and excitement that is undeniable. What is it that resonates within us to rejoice in something new? I can’t help but believe that it derives from the image of God whose stamp we bear. Our God is a creative God who took delight in creation with a full spectrum of colors, infinite variety, and downright whimsy. Witness the lowly walking stick or the marvel of the hummingbird or a dog’s hind leg and you will see incredible creativity at every hand. Not only did God create the tree but, indeed, thousands of species of them each bearing its own special design, grain, and inherent characteristics that woodworkers love to explore. Creation is a riot of excess that surrounds us all.

So, too, man is not content to live out his days in tedious monotony. To do so is the very diabolical heart of incarceration and imprisonment. My grandchildren at age one and two have to find something to do, to play with, to experience anew with every passing hour much to the tired chagrin of their parents. Adults, also, must create and build and learn each day or else their souls begin to whither and die within them. It is an intense and very real force that resides within. And new challenges, new opportunities, new experiences awaken in us that God given fire to imitate in part what He has done in the whole. It is what we were born to do. I know of no other adequate explanation.

May we all keep that fire burning within us to grow and exult in the new, the novel, the fresh and to relish opportunities for innovation, pioneering, and creating. I must remind myself that this is a unique year of life for this school and each of your children, and it will never pass this way again. That thought should impel us all to remove our hum drum shoes of habit and custom for we are standing on holy ground. Let us rejoice as well in the newness of life that God is still in the process of building within each of us. He has not rested from His labors but desires earnestly that we become more and more conformed to the image of His Son. To that end, He still works and toils and, I suspect, takes joy in it with each new day.

encouraging word

“Heaviness in the heart of man maketh it stoop: but a good word maketh it glad.” -Pro.12:25 KJV

It started out as a rather routine Sunday school exercise. Attempting to illustrate the importance of words and the meanings they bear, we went around the circle each sharing an instance when someone had spoken a word of encouragement into our lives at some point along the way that had a particular impact on us. The average age in the room was near fifty which was illuminating as these secure, well-grounded Christian people began recounting episodes in their lives which, more times than not, had happened decades ago. The stories started spilling out of various circumstances and times when someone had affirmed them and brought hope to their roomful of doubts.

One mature lady reached back to her high school days when in a conference with a couple of teachers, one of them remarked how, in her opinion, this young student could do anything she wished and affirmed her abilities. It was a thought that had never struck into her young and immature mind. A lawyer in the room told of another high school teacher who had singled her out with a compliment and a challenge. “You can write,” she told her, “and I want you to take this college level test.” As a result, she did and scored exceedingly well. But after earning an exemption from English coursework at college and completing an undergraduate program in finance, she found herself in law school once again having to write. Her first paper came back with a big fat “C” on it, and she thought her world was crumbling around her. As she sat crying in the student center, a professor came along who reassured her that one bad grade does not doom a career. “I know you and have studied your admission papers. You have what it takes.” And that began a long and fruitful mentoring relationship that brought her to where she is today.

A pre-school teacher recalled how an otherwise uncommunicative parent had written a note at the end of a term thanking her and the other teachers for all they had meant to her child and their family. It was a huge encouragement in an otherwise thankless environment. A retired teacher related how a student had returned to affirm that she had made a difference in a young life. It was a huge comfort that she had not labored in vain. Another teacher had recalled a truculent band student who had dropped out much to his relief and was surprised to hear positive and grateful words from this student some years later in spite of his self-confessed immaturity at the time.

Another woman related the intense emotional and legal struggles surrounding the settling of an estate in her dealings with a not-so-lovable real estate agent. After much travail of spirit and urges to kill, she decided to give grace and allow time for the agent to do the right thing. After all the legal wrangling and matters were settled, that agent returned to offer words of thanks for her acts of deliberate graciousness. It was a confirmation that God’s ways are higher and better than our ways. A middle aged gentleman shared how he had known he had great potential as a young student but had fought with feelings of failure all his life. His wife, one day, affirmed that he was actually ideally suited for a life as a purchasing agent, and it had made a huge difference in his life.

What struck me most was the depth of doubt that each of us wake up to and walk with each day. We manage to function quite well anyway but desperately need to hear those words of affirmation and encouragement spoken into our lives by those we respect. How quickly these folks recalled instances that had happened often years and years before with such clarity amplifies for me the importance of these words of vision, affirmation, and encouragement spoken into one another’s hearts. There is no call for flattery here or for ignoring the chasm of original sin that rips through all our lives. But the power of a healing word is as strong a medicine as any. We walk among and pass by those who lie by the sides of the road having been assaulted by the thieves of insult, weariness, discouragement, or injustice. May we have the eyes to see the broken in spirit and the wisdom to minister the healing balm of a life-giving word.

Evil

"This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope. It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed" Lam. 3:21-22

Sickness, accidents, disease, sudden impoverishment, drought, crop failure, old age, betrayal, and heartache: these are the things life is made of at times. Or is it that these are the things life is made of most of the time? Is life mostly good with a few streaks of the bad thrown in for good measure? Or is life a struggle at best and only a rare, lucky few float along relatively unscathed?

Tuesday’s newspaper was especially wrenching with stories of murder confessions and convictions, bitterness and unforgiveness, headline divorces, governmental breakdowns, lawsuits, and political pandering on wholesale levels. Is this the norm that we must grow to expect in a fallen world with a few good stories that break through now and again or did I wake up to a bumper crop of especially bad news?I suppose you could entitle this essay, “Is the cup half full or half empty?” But then why does it matter?

It is my business to look at so many young and innocent faces every day and wonder just what we should tell them about life. What is it like, really? To protect and shield them from the evil in the world is every parent’s natural impulse, mine included. Why sully their blissful world with the dirt and dreadful savagery of mankind at its worst? But still there is much of the evil of the world that manages to sneak through our carefully arranged shields or, worse yet, brazenly shatters our stoutest defenses. Grandmas and grandpas get weak, sick, and die. Thieves break through and steal leaving a path of destruction in their wake. Friends fall and break their bones with a pain that is hideous to behold. And little sisters can suffer a wasting disease through no fault of their own.

So do we embrace life with dread and fear for the worst knowing that at anytime the sky will come crashing down? Or do we rejoice in each day’s mercies and celebrate all the good that comes our way being careful not to project a morbid fear of the future even if we come dangerously close to putting on the proverbial rose-colored glasses? In a thousand little ways, we will communicate one or the other to our children, our neighbors, our spouses, and the wayfaring stranger. We can easily be betrayed by our fears or our blissful optimistic obstinacy.

I choose to think of life in terms of knees. They are amazing devices, so fragile to either trauma or age, but yet assigned to carry all that body weight, bone upon bone, fitted end to end, and still they provide mobility through great ranges of motion. They seemed almost doomed to fail. A sudden jar or twist can tear the living bindings irrevocably. There is, to me, no satisfactory explanation of why they should be able to do all that is expected of them. And yet they do, year upon year, in one of God’s greatest displays of organic engineering. I have had my share of minor knee injuries, but instead of cursing my misfortune, I have learned to marvel at how well they perform in spite of the forces arrayed against them. It is not that they are so prone to misfortune that causes me to wonder. It is rather that they work at all.

So, too, life. It is so fragile, so complex, and so prone to failure on every hand. That takes little to comprehend. The greater mystery is how we do as well as we do. It is cause for rejoicing when things go well. Normality is a blessing in any form. Lack of debilitating sickness is a positive. Good health is cause for rejoicing. I see the cup half-full. Anything else is undeserved gravy. Yet my gratefulness is rooted in the acknowledgement of the evil around us. I neither ignore it nor fear it. I glory in every small mercy.

Beginnings

“Therefore having been justified by faith,…” Romans 5:1-5

It is hard to believe that another school year is upon us already. I, like you, wonder where the summer went. Looking at several students who are suddenly elevated inches in stature assures me that we had one. Some of you are suddenly looking eye to eye with your children. Most all are returning with bright eyes and excitement over a new beginning. I, too, rejoice that we serve a God of new beginnings.

For each student, there is a clean slate, new classmates, new teachers, new textbooks, new opportunities, and new challenges. Some, however, are laboring under the memories of past difficulties, old offenses, broken friendships, or even past failure. It is a common human condition. In spite of the memories of high points in the past year, many are nevertheless also haunted by the difficulties encountered, the mistakes, the doubts, the misunderstandings, and errors of judgment committed by ourselves or others along the way. Adults and students alike long for fresh starts but often find themselves nagged by bad memories. How we deal with the past is an important factor in determining success in the future.

It is a familiar story echoed in the lives of any church you have known this past year, any extended family relationships you have encountered, any marriage that continues to grow and thrive, and, yes, any life lived in the full scrutiny of God’s all-seeing eye. Failure and shortcoming are endemic to all humanity and every institution known to man, CFC among them. Being the chief manager of the complaint department is one of my many duties that I have learned to embrace with healthy respect.

Listening to difficulties teaches me about me. How do I live with failure and shortcoming? It is a question each of us has to answer to maintain our own sanity and well-being. In spite of mistakes, we must move forward. In spite of the flaws of our mate, we must remain loyal. In spite of the deficiencies of our children, we still must love and care deeply about them. In spite of our own moral failures, we must continue to run the race for the high calling of Christ Jesus. We have to learn to live with failure and error or we die, either of despair or bitterness.

How shall we then live? I get a picture of the resolution of this dilemma from Romans where Paul exults in “this grace in which we stand” enabling us to have “peace with God.” I love grace. It is blessed stuff. Preach it, brother. But then he goes on to “exult in our tribulations” knowing that it brings about “perseverance” and “proven character.” Ouch! That part I could just as soon do without.

I have stood with many of you last year that suffered through struggles and heartaches. I have interviewed many new families who bring with them stories of difficulties and distress. Every student at CFC brings with them memories of the past school year that contain elements of the good, the bad, and the ugly. Suggestion. At the beginning of every year, I believe it is good practice to (1) exult in the grace of God. Accordingly as I have received, so should I give; forgive as I have been forgiven. It is God’s preventive medicine against bitterness. (2) I need to exult in my tribulations. I must look upon all those difficult problems, discipline sessions, conflicts, protracted meetings, misunderstandings as things sown into my life from which good can result. I must not look back upon them with embarrassed resentment but as opportunities for growth.

Can you join me in rejoicing in the grace God has shown to us by bringing us thus far and giving us another new beginning? Romans 5 – good stuff.

Ordinariness

“What shall we do, that we might work the works of God?” -John 6:28

The evening of Christmas Day found us strangely alone. We are not used to that. Typically we are awash in children and grandchildren. But we were sharing them with their other grandparents and so we went to see a movie. It almost seemed sacrilegious except that we went to see “The Nativity.” It was a beautiful film, and Christmas Day made it even more special. The scriptural highlights of the story were nice enough even though I might have done a few of them differently. But the thing that struck me most was the extent and reality of the “ordinariness” of everyday life that played out between the annunciation and the birth. In between the momentous visitation of Gabriel to Mary and the night of the nativity in Bethlehem were some nine months of cooking meals, fetching water, caring for siblings, and worries about things like taxes and friendships and, oh yes, a betrothal and the appearance of a illegitimate pregnancy. Mary was picked up and hurled out of her innocent and unassuming life into an unavoidable clash with prophecies and cynical public perceptions.

The ensuing turmoil of emotions and obligations continued unabated over the months but bereft of angelic visits or heavenly visions. How often both she and Joseph would have wished for confirmation of what they had heard. It had to be hard to have your world turned upside down with a one-minute sound bite by an angel who then left without a trace or a witness. First you get enough news to stagger a trained theologian and then it is back to milking goats or whatever. Weeks followed after weeks with no further heavenly updates. Just a fading memory of words that had to live in spite of the weeds of doubt springing up and obscuring the view. In the meantime, there were chores to be done, meals to eat, and the ever-present dust of everyday life that dirtied the feet and invaded one’s house.

So we, too, must live out those mundane days of life either clinging to the fading memory of a “burning bush” moment when we heard from God or else desperately longing for another one of those “divine moments” when a light shines out of the heavens or a still, small voice confirms the holy ground of our existence. But in between, there are faucets to fix, garages to clean out, diapers to change, wages to earn, and lunches to make. But we, like the people who tried to keep up with Jesus back and forth across the Sea of Galilee, cry out for higher tasks saying, “What shall we do, that we might work the works of God?” Enough with the diapers, lawn mowing, dish washing; we want to soar with the heavenly eagles.

God is the God of miracles, but He is also the God of the mundane. In fact, if we look at His work of creation, He spent one third of the time bringing order out of chaos and another third of the time just creating the conditions for life. I take great comfort in this, for I spend a lot of my time cleaning, organizing, sorting, and building just trying to bring order out of chaos. And then there is the feeding, washing, watering, and working which provides the essential provisions for life. When we look to “do the works of God,” we really do not need to look any farther than the example of Job, one of God’s obvious favorites. Yes, Job, the farmer, who loved God, hated evil, and raised a lot of kids: exhibit “A” in God’s debate with Satan. May you find these mundane January days imbued with the magic of knowing that in the doing of the ordinary, you may be doing the very works of God.

Dear Jane

Dear Jane:

I am trying to imagine the bittersweet process with which you labored over the 40th anniversary cake you made for us last weekend. On the one hand, I know your love for us and how you would desire to rejoice with us in celebrating this milestone in our lives. That is just who you are. And you showed that through the skilled work of your hands and heart in crafting one of your signature cakes with all the flourishes. Our anniversary was one of those events we wished to celebrate with a “Jane ------” cake.

On the other hand, I know that this must have been painful to craft such a celebratory gift all the time knowing that you would never receive one. Your husband of many years has left and abandoned you. You will never experience the joy of a 40th anniversary. I hope you did not think it cruel of us to ask you to do this for us. I trust instead that you took this as a compliment of your craft and evidence of our belief that you still desire to rejoice with those who rejoice. Yet, I am searching for words to extend thanks, praise, and hope to a wounded soul.

Life comes with no guarantees other than the promises of God’s word. So I turn to that as you surely have done in these past dark days. I know you have asked hard questions. Was marriage worth the risk of such great pain? Did I make one great mistake or many small ones? How could I have known? All such questions are unanswerable, but they nag the soul like pestering flying insects that will not go away. These things we cannot know. But what can we know when standing in the midst of ruin and disaster?

First of all, we know that “a righteous man falleth seven times, and riseth up again (Pro. 24:16).” You will rise again if your heart is steadfast. Though this has been a grievous fall, you will once more become a strong tower of refuge for others. I believe this. I trust you can believe it as well. Secondly, we know that those who plant themselves by the rivers of living water will not wither and whatever they do shall prosper (Ps. 1:3). I cherish this promise more and more as I grow older for it says that whatever, yes, whatever turn I take in life or is forced upon me, I can still see fruit blossom forth and witness productivity flowing from my life. It is the miracle of a Moses fleeing a felony, an Abraham surviving his own fearful lies, or a Joshua succeeding in spite of being married to a rebellious and unbelieving people. Thirdly, I know that you have a special place in God’s heart for “He upholdeth the fatherless and widow (Ps. 146:9).” He will establish your borders (Pro. 15:25). And like the divorced daughter of the Levitical priest, you are entitled to return home and eat of your father’s bread (Lev. 22:13).

My prayer for you is that you will be able to tell your children that your journey was worth the pain, that lifetime marriage is still God’s perfect plan, and that love risks everything or is not love at all. To do so will require a heart of mercy on your part, but the promise is that the merciful shall obtain mercy. You are in line to obtain much.