Misty-eyed

Early morning mist along the Cranberry Meadow Pond Trail.

Around here, there are lots of beautiful reasons to go “wow!” when looking out your driver’s side window on the way from here to there: A sunset. A multi-colored, rolling field. Mountains skirted by clouds. Deer nibbling on roadside shrubs. Most of the time, you marvel and enjoy but keep on going from here to there. One morning this week, though, I had to pull a (safe) U-ey. I had to go back to a “wow” scene I had seen countless times before but seemed to be calling my name.

It was the fleeting beauty of early morning mist on marshy land as the sun broke over the horizon. When you walk through it, your skin becomes moist. It gets all over you, in a very good sort of way. Scientists say mist is what happens when something warm and moist comes in contact with surfaces that are much cooler. Mist is thinner than fog, it’s more transparent, it blankets whatever it contacts with a moisture that seems to come out of nowhere, and then quickly vanishes.

God is continually speaking through His creation, even through the August morning mist. And I was sensing a confirming word: “This is your life. This is everyone’e life. Time flies so quickly. Think about it: how did we get to the end of summer so quickly—weren’t you just shoveling snow off the driveway yesterday? Make the most of each day, each opportunity. ‘What is your life, after all? For you are like a mist that appears for a brief time and then vanishes.’ (James 4:14). So, blanket wherever you go like this mist. Keep bringing My warmth to the cold of the world around you. Keep being salt. Keep being light.”

Wherever you go? 

Like many believers, I grew up in a Christian environment where if not spoken out loud, it was implied that just about everything in your life, except for your obligations, was to be centered around church. Friends. Music. Activities. All certainly helpful for growth and encouragement and discipleship, and I am grateful to this day for the fruit of all that. But there was also this sense that the outside world had become a “them” and a “that” and to have nothing to do with it anymore. Healthy discipleship cautions like “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind” (Romans 12:2) often got turned on their head to imply—stay away, it’s safer in your Christian bubble. The idea of being “in the world but not of it” felt a bit self-centered, that we’re stuck in this place for now but hold on because Jesus is coming soon to take us Home.

And He is!

But not that way. Because things Jesus really said…

“I’m not asking that You take them out of the world but that You guard them from the Evil One. They are no more defined by the world than I am defined by the world. Make them holy —consecrated—with the truth; Your word is consecrating truth. In the same way that You gave Me a mission in the world, I give them a mission in the world.”—John 17:15-18, Message

In some ways, I found it was easier and safer to live in that all-Christian, all-the-time bubble. It’s a lot harder to be the kind of penetrating mist Jesus is praying for us to be as we enjoy connecting with old friends who do not know Him (yet) and with common interests, holding on to uncompromising convictions and Truth (like Romans 12:2) while walking in love and not judgment and continually carrying the fragrance of Jesus wherever we go. But it’s the right way.

For some reason, it’s taken me several decades to feel safe about making a misty-eyed U-turn on this way of thinking—saturating, blanketing, being transparent—both inside and especially outside my church’s wonderful walls. But thank God, it is so.  And it is never too late. To be continued…

"I've got the little Bible magnets on my refrigerator door

And a welcome mat to bless you before you walk across my floor

I've got a Jesus bumper sticker

And the outline of a fish stuck on my car

And even though this stuff's all well and good,

I cannot help but ask myself

What about the change?

What about the difference?

What about the grace?

What about forgiveness?

What about a life that's showing

I'm undergoing the change?"

—The Change, by Steven Curtis Chapman

Paddling In the Thunderous Silence

Putting in at sunset at MacDowell Lake.

"It's when you take two words that are totally the opposite and you jam 'em together....like military intelligence, dark victory...thunderous silence...."

― Danny DeVito in "Renaissance Man"

The Sons of Korah who penned the lyrics to Psalm 46 got it long before we, or Danny DeVito, ever did―this walk of following in Jesus' footsteps is an oxymoron of endless and sometimes chaotic noise bubbling over a deep current of perfect peace. The same psalm that inspired one of the most famous, most majestic, and most floor-rattling hymns of our faith ― "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God"―also whispers "be still, and know that I am God." Psalm 46 is not either/or, but both. It is not trying to avoid or deny the reality of the former to escape to the latter, but rather God gripping us by the hand as if to assure us, "I AM with you in the midst of it all."

Life with the King of the universe is a wonderful "thunderous silence." If only we will look for it. If only we will take the time. If only we will look for Him. But how?

"That same day, Jesus left the house and went to sit by the sea."

―Matthew 13:1, The Voice

On the heels of a day filled with going from place to place, surrounded by people of all walks of life making requests, and demands, and challenges, and questions, and accusations, and all the while being hemmed in by so many people in great need and in impossible situations looking for answers or simply just a glimmer of hope, Jesus pursued the stillness of His Father's presence by, it would seem, slipping out to someplace quiet without anyone noticing.

With one little three-letter word, Jesus our example lives out the oxymoron of life that is Psalm 46. "Sit." Most of the time, when we go to our favorite get-away place, we're still moving when we get there. We want to walk, or hike, or jog, or restlessly go to this vantage point and then the next. All the while realizing that just because we are at our favorite place doesn't mean that the noise has gone away. Besides, some of the most thunderous noises are the ones that keep playing in our heads: "do this, you forgot that, what about this?, and what if?... and you really should have....and what a mess―how is this every going to sort itself out-ok-let-me-play-out-all-the-scenarios-and-put-it-on-repeat."

And in that one little three-letter word, Jesus seems to to be modeling:

Recharge your batteries and get a renewed Heavenly perspective.

Stop moving, even if your brain is at full tilt.

Stop completely.

Be still.

Breathe deeply.

Look up and see His majesty and presence all around you once more.

And while you're at it, don't forget to confess with your mouth what your brain knows is true but quickly forgets.

The beauty of what is known as flat water kayaking is that it forces you to stop moving your feet even while your brain is racing―when it is too busy being busy, a sort of multi-topic mental vertigo. And when all that internal noise rages, the launch from shoreline can provide a stunning counterattack. One evening not long ago, the lake was so calm, so still, so smooth as glass, it seemed like splashing the oars to move forward would be akin to being that one person who has a coughing spell in the midst of holy-hush moment of a play or concert...

What would Jesus do? What did Jesus do?

..."Sit."And so I sat. And just floated rather aimlessly, occasionally carefully dipping a paddle into the water as though I were tip-toeing. It was still rather noisy inside, but soon, the thunderous silence began to invade. Soon the multi-topic mental vertigo was drowned out by the sound of...silence. Not a breeze. Not a distant airplane or traffic. Even the birds flying around and about seemed to be on mute in reverence.

And then, as I had done a few times before but not enough lately, I pulled out my phone's bible app and didn't just think-read but broke the thunderous silence by doing something which seems a bit weird and awkward: confessing with my mouth what is True. Out loud. It seemed to echo around the lake:

“God is our shelter and our strength.

    When troubles seem near, God is nearer, and He’s ready to help.

So why run and hide?

No fear, no pacing, no biting fingernails.

    When the earth spins out of control, we are sure and fearless.

    When mountains crumble and the waters run wild, we are sure and fearless.

Even in heavy winds and huge waves,

    or as mountains shake, we are sure and fearless….

“Be still, be calm, see, and understand I am the True God.

    I am honored among all the nations.

    I am honored over all the earth.”

You know the Eternal, the Commander of heavenly armies, surrounds us and protects us;

    the True God of Jacob is our shelter, close to His heart.”

(Psalm 46: 1-3; 10-11)

Even in the silence, the noise inside didn't suddenly disappear; the realities of dilemmas and decisions and tough situations remained. But what was noticeable was this: they were put in their place, drowned out by a peace that passes all understanding. And all Creation praised the moment: The thunderous silence was broken by the distant call of an owl, and then of a loon, and then of a beaver trying to quietly sneak by without being noticed. And then most amazingly, as though God Himself was smiling through this moment of the rhythms of grace, I looked to the western sky and saw that great hymn and the last verse of Psalm 46 as a painting: a glorious mighty fortress in the clouds....

... Woah! A painting that spoke blessed assurance in the wonderful thunderous silence, "I've got you, and I've got this noise. And I always have. And I always will."

[Originally published summer of 2017]

Fullness at Turn Two

Heading toward Turn Two earlier this spring.

Sometimes, you can be minding your own business and the oddest things happen.

Yesterday morning’s run at the high school track was like that—loop after loop, gulps of cool air, an incredibly beautiful cloud cover, the nearby shouts of the football team at their first workout of the season, waking up and feeling fine, and having the lanes all to myself. And then as I rounded turn two, I noticed a car had pulled over and someone was approaching the fence with a camera. 

First thought: “You lookin’ at me? And who-the-heck are you?” A little creepy at first, but as I kept running, I chose to believe the guy was taking a photo of the football team in the distance instead. But just maybe, he stopped because he wondered “why do people do this—running around and around on a track in the early morning? It looks… boring.” 

And the guy would have a point. But he’d also have no idea. Because though making time to run was the last thing I should have been doing to start an incredibly busy day, and though it may have seemed boring and routine to others, that weird little photo incident was a reminder that what I had taken time to do was the most important thing I should be doing. Every day...

“People sometimes sneer at those who run every day, claiming they'll go to any length to live longer. But don't think that's the reason most people run. Most runners run not because they want to live longer, but because they want to live life to the fullest.”

I have never met marathon runner Haruki Murakami, who said that, but I can relate to him. He is a career writer and has spent many hours behind a desk. Check. He did not start running until later in life. Check. He began as a way to stay healthy and counter his sedentary every day working position. Check.

And most of all, because he wanted to “live life to the fullest.” Check. In my case, it was to take seriously the words of Jesus,

“I have come in order that you might have life—

life in all its fullness.” (John 10:10)

Because there is a thief that is constantly trying to rob us all of the goodness of life, both in this world and the promise of the world to come. Running in endless circles on a track can seem crazy to people driving by, but yesterday was a reminder that no matter how much stuff there is to do and process, living life in all its fullness begins by starting the day right on the right foot (whether you are a runner or not)—with prayer, with gratitude, with thankfulness.

Three things easily forgotten or taken for granted.

And as I often do on a run, the mish-mash of thoughts going through my brain on that boring-looking track yesterday looked something like this…

Today is another day that the Lord has made,

And before doing another thing, even before that first sip of coffee,

Before planning and scheming the day ahead,

Rejoice, even if just a little bit—which means don’t just feel gratitude, express it.

Give Him praise from whom every single blessing flows! (James 1:17)

Including that your life is a gift and the giver is God alone,

Because He alone “gives us life, and breath in our lungs, and everything else.” (Acts 17:26)

This day may seem full or it may seem like just another day, but don’t be fooled;

Remember that every day is His day, and for His glory, and how I walk—even run—through it really matters.

“OK, then, let’s do this!”

Wait…first, don’t forget to pray at all times, and as you go (1 Thessalonians 5:17), and especially for these:

Pray for wisdom on how to proceed, for what you know about already and the unplanned.

And “if you don’t have all the wisdom needed for this journey, then all you have to do is ask God for it; and God will grant all that you need. He gives lavishly and never scolds you for asking.” (James 1:5, Voice)

And pray, too, for an undivided heart (Psalm 86:11) that stays soft and pliable in the hands of its Maker throughout the day.

Especially when it is prone to wander or become hardened by the things and voices of this world that continually scream (lie) that they are more important or desirable.

And don’t forget to pray for others…family, friends in need, and how you will interact with all the people that come across your path today:

“Pray always. Pray in the Spirit. Pray about everything in every way you know how! And keeping all this in mind, pray on behalf of God’s people. Keep on praying feverishly, and be on the lookout until evil has been stayed.” (Ephesians 6:18)

And even if (and when) I veer off course on this day’s journey, or my heart and flesh fail,

Remember to end the day as you’re doing now, even out of breath:

Give Him praise from whom all blessings flow!

From beginning to end, today is another day that the Lord has made, so keep on running…

“Let us be full of joy and be glad in it!” (Psalm 118:24, NLV)

This is living life in all its fullness.

The Reunion and the Ring

“And the son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’ But the father said to his servants, ‘Quickly bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him, and give him a ring for his finger, and sandals for his feet.”—Luke 15:21-22, Mounce Interlinear

All week long, my bible app’s verse of the day seemed to be stuck on this: “You are the light of Christ to the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden; Let your light shine before men in such a way that they may see your good deeds and moral excellence, and recognize and honor and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” (Matthew 5:14,16, Amplified) Maybe there was a glitch in the app, maybe my cell reception was bad—who knows? But when something that looks like a coincidence is maybe not, I’m learning it’s best not to ignore it. And so it became a daily whispered prayer for wherever I went—to carry the light into every room and situation and store and to look for Jesus in everyday faces and places.

Even at my 50th high school class reunion.

I honestly don’t know how well I carried His light into that room last night, but it and He surely felt everywhere. And why not? Jesus, the gospels tell us, liked parties and wedding receptions but most of all, He liked hanging out with people and being where people were at in their lives. He didn’t always hang out with “church people,” except maybe His disciples, but walked through the most unlikeliest of villages and neighborhoods and had dinner in the most unlikeliest of homes. In the world but not of it. Follow Me. And man, was He speaking!

It began with John Travolta.

I got roped into being part of a line dance for the theme song of Travolta’s famous 1970s movie, “Saturday Night Fever.” All these years later, I remembered being part of those line dances at college, mainly because I ain’t got feet rhythm and I actually “got” this one. But when the instructions were reviewed with us last night, though vaguely familiar, it all felt like a foreign language and cows walking on ice. Missteps. Tripping up. Going the wrong way. Going nowhere, or so it seemed. The DJ, however, was very patient and kept encouraging us, repeating the same steps over and over, slower and then faster, until we “got it.” (Well, almost anyway.) 

Can’t really explain this but in the midst of the embarrassingly funny exhibition in front of old classmates, I was reminded by the Man who had walked into the room that this is what this Walk is like, too. There will be missteps, and tripping up, and going the wrong way, and seemingly going nowhere, but keep persevering. Your Leader is patient with you. Practice the Word, step by step, day by day, knowing that repetition builds strength and confidence so that the steps eventually become a natural reflex. You begin to “get it.” Hallelujah! (And while you’re at it, stop being so serious about everything and enjoy the moment.)

Enjoy the life and breath He has given…and never forget to be grateful. That was another thing the Man who had walked into the room seemed to be reminding me through the names and faces and voices of classmates I could barely remember. Over and over, I kept hearing the same thing: through all their hardships and disappointments and losses...

“I’m grateful. Every day is precious.” Bark less, wag more. Amen, and amen (and never forget it).

And then a friend from the basketball team at my table stunned me with a heartfelt toast for being thankful for all we’ve been through in our lives and for “what really matters,” and for one another’s enduring friendship even if we have not seen one another in years. It was hardly a churchy blessing but it was almost better—it pierced my heart in a wonderfully strange way because the words were dripping with the warmth and sincerity of the exhortations found in Paul’s letters to the churches to be continually thankful for each day and each breath, and to love one another and encourage one another through thick and thin. And the Man who had walked into the room of the class reunion seemed to say, “make a note of that.”

And another thing: “Pretty cool how after all these years you still remember all the lyrics to ‘Brandy, you’re a fine girl’ and ‘Bye, bye Miss American Pie.’ Now, remember that the next time you think ‘I can’t memorize scripture.’” Zing.

Zing…Bling. The Man who had walked into the room also followed me home (thank, God) when I pulled out my class ring from 1972 to admire it. Doesn’t fit now but I remember wearing it proudly on my right hand (except for that season when my girlfriend proudly wore it around her neck during my freshman year at college)—a thing of achievement, of belonging, a statement, a remembrance of where I started and how far I had come. A little chipped, a little dinged, but still beautiful.

And as I dozed off to sleep, I remembered another ring—the one the joyful father gave to his prodigal son in one of the greatest reunion stories ever told. (Luke 15:11-32) That ring could have symbolized a lot of things but it was definitely making its own statement loud and clear. As one bible scholar explains: “When the father places the ring on the hand of his son, he not only welcomes him back home as a son, as was indicated by the robe, but he welcomes him back to responsibility and authority. The young man is not to sit on the bench; he is to play on the team!…when any person comes back to God, He invites us to be partners together with Him in the work of His Kingdom.” 

And the Man who had walked into the room at our 50th high school class reunion and followed me home last night seemed to smile as I admired that ring:

“Age is just a number. C’mon, let’s keep going. Remember, John Travolta.”