Sticking With It

An early morning February fog on Grove Street.

"Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in You. Show me the way I should go, for to You I entrust my life."—Psalm 143:8, NIV

In a classic Monty Python sketch, actor John Cleese explains his uneven cadence upon entering the Ministry of Silly Walks: "Good morning. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, but I'm afraid my walk has become rather sillier recently, and so it takes me rather longer to get to work. Now then, what was it again?"

It's how a person can feel greeting God during those seasons of the Walk when even though a new sunny day dawns, it is often, like February in New Hampshire, obscured in clouds. Not horrible, but lacking that certain sweetness and clarity.  And like Cleese, not free-falling backwards but nevertheless sometimes feeling stuck in neutral, or for every two steps forward, one step back or even sideways. What's with that? It's called being human. It's called the Walk of faith. And the solution, it seems, can be found by taking what some might consider another kind of silly but beautiful walk: Very early in the morning on a Saturday in the late winter when most sane people are still cozied up in their beds. Walking and observing and remembering...

"Hey, what's that aroma?" It's not the usual wood smokiness accenting a frigid day. It's...it's the fragrance of the south wind! — the same one that hits you in the face during t-shirt and shorts weather. It's coming!

"Hey, what's that sound?" It's not the usual wintertime cackle of a blue jay. Nope, it's a robin! OK, so it's a Canadian Robin, eh? But it's still the same sound that sings in your ear when kayaking on a still lake on a warm evening. Kayak...open water...warmth. It's coming!

"Hey, wait, what's that thing growing in February?" It's not the usual wintertime shrub, like the one right next to it still covered with protective burlap, but a lilac bush with some very fat buds — the same bush that every balmy spring explodes in all-too-short-lived color and fragrance. It's really going to come!

Not just an early morning walk in late February. Instead, one where it was good to remember that whether feeling sunny or in a feels-like-I'm-stuck-in-neutral fog, God's faithfulness and promises for another Spring and for every season of life are unshakeable. And when you don't really know what's going on or feeling a bit "off," it's good to remember that the Walk of faith often means going into a land you do not know, and like millions of saints before you, God will be with you still. It's good to know, too, that occasional forgetfulness of God's faithfulness and goodness every step of your way is not a sin but a frequently off-course rudder that requires an occasional early morning walk of remembrance to get back on track.

And out of His great, unfailing love for us, and how that He knows so very well how we tick, God will use whatever means at His disposal — everyday things like aromas, sounds, and sights from a walk — to remind us that His faithfulness never changes and His promises have no "sell by" date. Most especially, God will often drive it all home with His Word, even one that hit home so hard many days ago that you wrote it down and tucked away for future reference because you knew you'd need re-reminding in the future. Like now...

 

"Barricade the road that goes nowhere

I choose the true road to Somewhere

I post Your road signs at every curve and corner

I grasp and cling to whatever You tell me

God, don’t let me down!

I’ll run the course You lay out for me

If you’ll just show me how.”

—Psalm 119:29-32, Message

"The strongest kind of faith is not mountaintop faith but one that says 'I won't quit.'"

— Steve Boyce

Snapshots In the Stands

 That night when the older locals from my youth became me. (Photo: Heather Whipple-Simard)

Back in the day, when I roamed my high school’s gym wide-eyed and full of youthful enthusiasm, the younger me would look up into the stands and shake my head but smile at the older locals—regulars at the games who still enjoyed watching the hometown team’s game like they had watched it or played it many years ago. I imagined them beginning every sentence with “Hey, remember when?….” That younger me would think, “Geez, stop living in the past, you guys. Times have changed.” Because all smart-aleck me could see was a bright future ahead, full of who-knows-what surprises and goodness.

This week, the tables turned.

That once younger me was one of those older locals in the stands cheering on the hometown team. And in between the action, right on cue, one of the guys next to me leaned over and launched into, “Hey remember when?…” And it was beautiful. Because he described a childhood experience of growing up in our small town—a time when grade school kids excitedly raced downtown after school to buy snacks and then raced back up to the athletic fields to watch the big kids play soccer or baseball. A time when every grade was in one sprawling building on High Street and when there was no social media but when little kids really followed and looked up to someone—in awe of being in the same hallway with those huge high school kids on their way to class, and wanting to be like them someday.

A time when your heart raced when you walked into the gym for the first time in your life on a Friday night and saw teachers and classmates and a lot more of those high school heroes, and even the man who sold you the snacks downtown, and neighbors sitting and standing together to root for the hometown team. And out in the hallway, an unforgettable aroma of freshly popped popcorn, stale cigarette smoke on clothing, and a hint of spearmint gum or breath mints in the air. To this day, the aroma of popcorn at a sporting event takes me back like incense to those wonderful Friday nights.

The older me went to bed that night wondering why that is so, and why that “Hey, remember when?…” story had triggered something so deep, something beyond basketball games and growing up in a small town. It was not so much wishing I could go back in time, but it was realizing that it was a marker God had used in a young, impressionable mind to remind me later on in life of something greater and incredibly important—His undying faithfulness love and goodness through the thick and thin of childhood, youth and adulting, and the importance of community. Something so easily taken for granted.

That night in the stands was a marker of remembrance that was not unlike the stones that Joshua’s men pulled from the Jordan River to serve as a monumental reminder of how God had faithfully led His people across it and into safety… 

“Then Joshua explained again the purpose of the stones: ‘In the future,’ he said, “when your children ask you why these stones are here and what they mean, you are to tell them that these stones are a reminder of this amazing miracle—that the nation of Israel crossed the Jordan River on dry ground! Tell them how the Lord our God dried up the river right before our eyes and then kept it dry until we were all across! It is the same thing the Lord did forty years ago at the Red Sea! He did this so that all the nations of the earth will realize that Jehovah is the mighty God, and so that all of you will worship Him forever.’”—Joshua 4:21-24, Living

Markers like that, if only I will notice them, tend to show up in lots of other everyday settings, like basketball games, time and time again to drive a point straight to the heart where it belongs—to, as one pastor has said...

“Remember not to forget…Don’t forget to remember…

Remember to remember!”

Pay attention to the snapshots and photo albums from the past that parade through the memory bank—many fun, but some not. Because these are permanent markers to remind you that you need one another, and of God’s faithfulness in provision, guidance, love, grace, mercy (oh man, lots of that!), and getting through long desert seasons. As author Mark Batterson puts it: “The primary reason we lose faith is because we forget the faithfulness of God. Maybe that's why the word 'remember' is repeated 250 times in Scripture.”

By the way, I still have a something in common with that younger me (hopefully, a lot less snarky) because even though I often sit in the stands now, there is still a bright future ahead—one so bright, in fact, it has no end. But now, what that younger me didn’t know back then but was reminded of after being in the stands the other night, the way ahead while roaming this planet will have many more markers of remembrance that God will use like stones to inspire gratitude for life, and faith-building perseverance, resolve, hope, encouragement and joy for the road ahead. Markers that will shout:

“Just remember, you often won't realize you're making progress on the Journey until you pause to look back at how far you've come.”

Looking back after this week's snow, Old Dublin Road.

[ADAPTED FROM PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED, JANUARY 2020]

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.

Parable of the Old Chair

One day, an owner of a wonderful homestead was admiring the beauty of Creation all around it and decided that it needed a chair upon which he could rest and enjoy.

And the chair came out of the womb of its box and into the world, and it was beautiful indeed.
But as soon as the chair emerged, something strange happened.

Though it enjoyed many days of beautiful sunrises and sunsets and moonlit skies, fierce storms and harsh winds began to wound the chair, inside and out.

The storms were mean and relentless and came from every direction.

They tried to knock the chair over.

They blew branches onto it and pelted it time and again with many, many acorns.

Soon, the chair that the owner loved very much began to decay.

The owner knew his beloved chair needed rescuing, and when the sighing and creaking of the chair cried out for help, he was ready to get to work.

He knew that there could be no shortcuts.

No dusting things off and hoping the chair could hold on for a few more years.

No spray paint that is uneven, takes several coats, and easily misses the chair’s finer details.

Instead, he bought the finest brush that ever was made and he bought the finest paint that ever was applied...

Lovingly but ever so completely, he dipped the brush into a can that was labeled red but resulted in something amazing:

The decaying chair that the owner loved so dearly somehow turned pure white!...

His brush did not miss a crack, sliver, hidden corner or rough spot. 

Everything about the chair was beautiful,

And it was not just skin deep but from the inside out.

It was the same chair and yet it was without question brand new, and the owner loved it so.

And the chair no longer sighed and creaked and the owner danced over it with joy.

He could have kept his new-new chair out of harm’s way after that, but then it wouldn’t have been a very good or useful chair.

So the owner put the new-new chair back out into his yard where it belonged.

And just as before, there were many days of beautiful sunrises and sunsets and moonlit skies.

And there were still many fierce storms and harsh winds and tree limbs and sharp acorns that were mean and relentless and came from every direction, all trying to knock the chair over.

But no matter how hard they tried, they could not.

The owner had made sure of that.

In every season, the new-new chair stood strong. Nothing could kill it.

And it all brought not just many days but endless days of joy to the chair and its owner…

"For I am convinced and continue to be convinced—beyond any doubt—that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present and threatening, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other created thing, will be able to separate us from the unlimited love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

—Romans 8:38-39, Amplified

Down in My Heart

“The Lord Jesus is a deep sea of joy; my soul shall dive therein…”—Charles Haddon Spurgeon

What do we do with the word "joy"? There must be something important and good about it in God’s eyes because joy is mentioned more than 200 times in some translations of the Bible.

But well-meaning Sunday School teachers and authors down through the years have made it sound like joyful Christians are to be serious-faced about God’s joy, and have said not to confuse natural happiness with joy because happiness is a fleeting emotion—it comes and goes. Only joy lasts. On that last point, there is Truth. But on the whole, this handed-down teaching needs revisiting because the root words for joy in both the Hebrew and Greek do not imply serious-faced expressions and lifestyles at all, but instead speak of an inner happiness or gladness that cannot be contained or deterred. 

And if you’ve experienced that kind of joy, you can’t really explain it, but you know it's true.

It’s better than the fleeting joyful feeling of getting a new car or going on vacation because God’s joy (or, joy in God), is rooted in knowing that no matter the ups and downs of life, if you have Jesus, you have everything, and He will never abandon you and He loves you through the ecstasies as well as the hells of life. And most of all, because unlike any other god, our God is not dead but fully alive and reigning still and forever over this crazy world in ways that are totally beyond our imagination or understanding. And not only that, He is interceding—praying—for us all…the… time. (Hebrews 7:25).

And oh yes, His joy is unspeakable because unlike that new car, He never rusts or breaks down, and unlike that vakay, you never need a reservation to be with Him.

And that’s only a glimmer of what joy in the Lord looks like. Or, it’s about all our (my) feeble brains can handle at one time. But somehow you know and believe that there is so much more depth, width and height to the kind of happy joy God is talking about. I’m thinking of that campfire song right about now: “I’ve got that joy, joy, joy down in my heart. Where?…” Deep down. Just as Spurgeon says.

I was thinking about that when putting up the tree yesterday, and of all the lights and shiny objects, one three-letter word (pictured) was magnified….

Remember, the Word shouts: “Rejoice in the Lord always, again, I say rejoice!”

But look at our world—there isn’t much to rejoice about. Joy to the world? Really?

And what about all the hurts and pains that have somehow concentrated in Decembers past? Joy to the world? Really?

The Word shouts louder: Remember to live each day not through your lens but through Heaven’s lens. Remember…

“Be full of joy always

Because you belong to the Lord!

Again I say, be full of joy!

And let all people see how considerate, compassionate, unselfish you are.

The Lord is coming again soon!

Do not worry.

Learn to pray about everything.

Give thanks to God as you ask Him for what you need.

The peace of God is much greater than the human mind can understand. This peace will keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.”—Philippians 4:4-7, New Life Version

Our problems and painful memories may be real, in December and the other 11 months as well, and many are no laughing matter. But that little three-letter decoration is a loud reminder that the Word of God has never failed and won’t stop now: the joy of the Lord is indeed our strength still, and very deep and very wide, no matter what. It's all about choosing to look through the right and heavenly lens…

…“Begin to rejoice in the Lord, and your bones will flourish like an herb, and your cheeks will glow with the bloom of health and freshness. Worry, fear, distrust, care — all are poisonous! Joy is balm and healing, and if you will but rejoice, God will give power.” 

— A. B. Simpson

Thankful

Photo: Hannah Skelly @unsplash.com

"To be grateful is to recognize the love of God in everything."—Thomas Merton

Outside, the air was November-brisk. Inside, all was warm with good food, conversation and gales of laughter. Friday was another wonderful Friday night in my little hometown. Until I suddenly realized it was more than that.

I think I first noticed it when the happy vibes of the restaurant became so vibey that our server had to lean in to hear what we wanted to order. And to the left, a large table of friends had gathered to happily celebrate someone’s special occasion, although I couldn’t tell what exactly. It didn’t really matter. What struck me was…a sudden wave of thanksgiving, gratitude and an answer to a strangely-worded prayer. It wasn’t all that long ago, really….

…While taking an evening walk in my little hometown in late March of last year, I remember being so struck with the sadness of seeing neighbors avoiding one another and crossing to the other side of the street when they saw you coming. Everything was on COVID lockdown and safety awareness. No dining out, no gathering with friends at the game or in church—for days, for weeks, and sometimes for months—and every feeling within had a very deep, mournful “this ain’t right” sigh to it. And I remember writing afterwards: 

“I want my community back—my hometown and its neighborly sidewalks, my co-workers, my friends at Nonie’s and at church….When this is over, I know there will be nothing sweeter than being able to stand shoulder to shoulder with the hometown crowd cheering and shouting at the basketball game, or…

...going to the loudest restaurant I can find just so I can hear people laugh with one another…”

 

And here it was! It had happened! This thing may never be fully over, but we have come out on the other side after all. And not only that,  just as I strangely prayed, I got to stand shoulder to shoulder with the hometown crowd cheering and shouting at a soccer game (basketball hasn’t started yet), and now here I was delighting in “the loudest restaurant I can find just so I can hear people laugh with one another.”

What seemed impossible 18 months ago, and even only dimly possible this spring, all came together in thankfulness in that hometown restaurant on Friday night. And those sidewalks of avoidance? They have been replaced by friendly nods or a “hello!” (miracle alert—New Englanders just don’t do that), and while there are still face coverings, there are more frequent unveilings of  “hey, I remember you now!” smiles of neighbors and friends.

The meal and service and friendship in “the loudest restaurant I can find so I can hear people laugh with one another” were fantastic. But the best part may have been the Thanksgiving take-out menu I reminded myself to carry with me this week and all the other weeks to come, to remember to be thankful for all blessings huge and small, and especially to remember the Source of them all…

…Thank You that “I lay down and slept safely; I awakened, for You sustained me.” (Psalm 3:5)

Thank You that no matter what the headlines say, “This is the day that You have made, so I will rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118:24)

Thank You for family, friends and the air I breathe, that You alone “give life and breath to everything, and satisfy every need.” (Acts 17:25)

Thank You that no matter what others may think of me or what I think of myself, that in Your eyes, “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” (Psalm 139:14)

Thank You for the “incredible quality of love You have shown to us, that we would be permitted to be named and called and counted the children of God! And so we are!”  Wow. (1 John 3:1)

Thank You that even on those days when I feel alone—even in a crowd—I’m not because Your name is “God with us” and You have promised “never will I leave you, never will I abandon you.” (Hebrews 13:5)

Thank You that though truthfulness is lacking in a big way all around us, I know I can trust You because “it is impossible for God to lie.” (Hebrews 6:18)

Thank You that in a world with too much deception and lack of integrity, You alone are “not a human who changes his mind. Whatever You promise, You do; You speak, and it is done.” (Numbers 23:19)

Thank You that no matter how chaotic and out of control this world may look, “The earth belongs to You, and everything in it — the world and all its people.” (Psalm 24:1)

Thank You for the reminder that being thankful “strengthens my faith.” (Colossians 2:6-7)

And thank You especially that no matter what, You never quit on anything or in the midst of any bleak situation, that “You are good and Your love endures forever.” (Psalm 106:1)

“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.—Meister Eckhart

Contentment

(Photo: The Nigmatic @unsplash.com)

“Trust in the Lord, and do good; dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness. Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will act.”—Psalm 37:3-5, ESV

The Kingdom of God is like the man who set out to take a photo of the early summer full moon. He had all the right equipment, a beautiful field in which to capture the moment, and not a cloud in the evening sky. The tripod was set. His compass pinpointed on the horizon where the moon would rise. And he waited and waited, patiently at first, but then grew fidgety as the appointed time of the rise came and went — he had forgotten that here, it had to emerge over mountains and trees first. There was much impatience and restlessness. And then the moment finally arrived.

“There it is!,” said the man. After much experimenting and adjusting, however, only a few of the many photos came close to capturing the majesty of it all. And then the much-anticipated moment quickly passed. A rush of joy but then a sinking feeling of closure so quickly…until the man began to put his camera away, and he noticed something wonderful.

Long before the moon made its appearance, during all the waiting and waiting and waiting, he had forgotten about how he had surveyed the field of gently blowing grass and wildflowers and fireflies, and how he had found incredible peace and joy in that moment and tried to do the impossible — capture it all on film — knowing that a picture only tells half the story. And he looked at the photos of the moon and he looked at the photos of the field and he heard a voice speak deep within:

“Never take for granted the beauty of the Journey and the joy of the moment, or to be in such a hurry to get to where or what you think you really want when the best and most satisfying moments of the Journey can be in the routine along the way, of waiting, of learning patience, of turning down your inner volume and being still so you can not just hear but listen.”

It was not unlike the same voice that often rose up in the man while running and looking forward to the finish line, when the best part always seemed to be not the finish line at all but all the processing and dreaming and clarity amidst confusion that often took place in his brain and heart along the way.

There is a saying that goes “trust the process.” But in the Kingdom of God, the saying is better: “Embrace the process.” Because it is here, in the fields and back roads of life, where the man with the camera and everyone else who Believes can hear best and where God often seems to speak loudest and to the deepest needs within, where real growth puts down roots, and where the eyes of the heart get their much needed and right perspective.

Where it’s good simply to be in His presence.

Inner Circle Joy

(Photo: dreamstime.com)

Dear brothers and sisters, pattern your lives after mine, and learn from those who follow our example.—Philippians 3:17, NLT

Reading Romans 16 is not unlike attending your child’s school awards ceremony and clapping for a bunch of people you know nothing about. It can be a little awkward: “I don’t know who these people are, but ‘yay for them’ anyway.” For the first 16 verses, the Apostle Paul encourages the fledgling gathering of believers in Rome, who like us,  “are beloved of God … called to be saints (God’s people) and set apart for a sanctified life; that is, set apart for God and His purpose,” to be sure to “greet” a whole lot of folks who they apparently know or have at least heard of, but who are total strangers to us.

But maybe they shouldn’t be.

These are mostly everyday people, with no special qualifications other than that they all seem to not just talk a good game, but consistently (not perfectly) walk the talk. These are men and women whose lives are marked not just by good deeds but by:

Faithfulness in both sunny and rainy seasons

Perseverance when everything inside screams to quit

Integrity even when compromise is everywhere

Hard work, very hard work, whatever it looks like, for the sake of spreading Good News

For being family to one another...encouraging, building up, loving

For random acts of hospitality

And, especially, whose very lives have been “tested and approved in Christ.”

When Paul says “greet” these folks, he’s implying a whole lot more than “Tell ‘em ‘hi’ for me.” The Greek word implies a very intimate greeting—to hug, to kiss with honor, to embrace. That may all sound rather uncomfortable if you’re not a particularly greeting-demonstrative person, but God chose a strong word for a very good reason:

In this journey on the Great Adventure, with deceptions, lies, and temptations lurking around every corner 24/7, it’s vital that we find and walk with those who have lived like the just-a-regular-guy saints in that Romans 16 list. And not only to find them and walk with them, but to go a bold step further and “embrace” them into a very tight circle of joyful influencers. Not at the exclusion of all others, but as Solomon penned many hundreds of years earlier—perhaps pointing to that early gathering of believers in Rome as well as to we who are called to be salt and light today—

"Walk with the wise and become wise;
    associate with fools and get in trouble."—Proverbs 13:20, NLT

“Show me your friends and I will tell you who you are."

(Author unknown)

[ADAPTED FROM 4-10-16]

Good Words Handed Down

“What you leave behind is not what is engraved on stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.”—Pericles

Three lessons for a lifetime, from a life well lived…

1. Be Joyful

These difficult days, I walk past their smiling photo on my bureau and will once in awhile ask mom and dad, “all right, what’s going on Up There?” And all they do is smile back. For dad, it was part of his "good tools handed down." But today, I am focusing on the one on the right...

For mom, it wasn’t a plastic smile—it was genuine, and kind, and an overflow of what she felt about Jesus and life. Even in the pain. I remember it took mom a long time to get over losing a daughter shortly after childbirth, and she also often carried the weight of other people’s burdens as her own. But that smile. One of her friends at Summerhill said she smiled even when on her way to a doctor’s appointment on a cold day. Mom’s genuine smile was simply contagious. She might tell us today that her smile reflects 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18: “Be cheerful, no matter what; pray all the time; thank God no matter what happens. This is the way God wants you who belong to Christ to live.”

2. Be Selfless

Mom was continually giving herself away to benefit someone else, or meet them at their point of need. There are countless examples, but one that sticks in my mind was when we were at the burial service for my nephew Jason some 15 years ago. Mom noticed a group of Jason’s friends who had gathered off in the distance—and she set aside her own sorrow, traipsed through the dirt in her high heels, and went over to the group with a smile and invited them to join us. Her legacy of a self-less life is summed up in Philippians 2:3-5: “….with an attitude of humility, regard others as more important than yourselves. Do not merely look out for your own personal interests but also for the interests of others. Have the same attitude in yourselves which was in Christ Jesus…”

3. Be Wise

Mom was the wisest person I’ve ever known. She was often a woman of few words, but then she’d say something so profound that it cut to the heart of the matter. Wisdom listens before it speaks. Wisdom does not judge. Wisdom doesn’t enable. It’s just right, it’s what you need to hear, and always comes at the right time. I cannot tell you how many times mom’s quiet, profound wisdom helped me to see, or got me back on course. She was filled with wise words for life—something we all could use more of these days. As it says in James 3:17 (Living Bible), “Wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure and full of quiet gentleness. Then it is peace-loving and courteous. It allows discussion and is willing to yield to others. It is full of mercy and good deeds. It is wholehearted, straightforward, and sincere.”

These are just some of the things mom would have wanted to be woven into the lives of those she loved and knew, because our world surely needs more of them. And so, not to just have them woven into our own lives, but then to “pass it forward.”

And by all means, with a smile.

From the Celebration of the Life of Patricia A. Smith (October 27, 1929 to January 10, 2019), with love and encouragement to all who are missing their moms on this day.

Head to the Heart

Photo: Warren Grieve (pixabay.com)

"I open up to You, this Love that makes me new; Oh may my heart receive this Love that carries me..."—United Pursuit

Mind shift: Sundays were never meant to be the sighing end to another too-short weekend. They were never meant to be just another day among seven. Sundays were meant to be glorious, no matter the weather, because Sundays are God's weekly reminder to our world-numbed souls of the Resurrection that changed, and still changes... everything.

"It's Friday...but Sunday's coming!"

A weekly reminder that on that first glorious Sunday morning many centuries ago, a bunch of men and women who walked closely with Jesus for about three years were running frantically to and from an empty tomb trying to wrap their brains and hearts around what was going on, and the angel's words of shock and awe, "He is risen, just as He said."

Resurrection power is like that. It is mind-blowing and beyond comprehension, no matter how often you spout the words "He is risen!" aloud, or nod your head to the many times Jesus said it was going to happen.

Until it happens to you—when God awakens you from the dead of your own thinking and way of life and calls you to step into the glorious known yet unknown, where life is full and alive and has no end, and is totally upside down to all that you've been led to believe.

Some people have pretty dramatic resurrection experiences, and these friends stir my faith like few others can. But the Gospels indicate that some of the most resistant ones to come alive were often those who grew up going to synagogue, were pretty decent people overall, and who "got it" pretty well up in their brain. But that's where it was entombed, never connecting to the heartbeat of life...

...."The religion scholar said, 'A wonderful answer, Teacher! So lucid and accurate—that God is one and there is no other. And love Him with all passion and intelligence and energy, and loving others as well as you love yourself. Why, that's better than all offerings and sacrifices put together!' When Jesus realized how insightful he was, He said, 'You're almost there, right on the border of God's kingdom."

(Mark 12:32-34, The Voice)

For 27 years, I was that guy. "Right on the border." But not for much longer. Because even though I didn't know it at the time, someone was praying. Several someones, in fact. (Rabbit trail: never give up!)

And then there was that strange moment when some "voice" or loud impression or whatever within spoke to me while out on the town one night: "You are at a crossroads. Which road will you take?" And all of that at about the time I was singing in the church choir because I liked to sing but far from God and yet being strangely drawn like a magnet to a simple gospel song: "Because He lives, I can face tomorrow..." Because it was my grandmother's favorite song at the time, and I really loved her, and she wasn't well, and she was the first person I knew who loved Jesus like He was more than a historical figure.

And then one day, just a few weeks before another Resurrection Sunday, all those seemingly random elements came together: Love broke through the roadblock between the head and heart. It came unannounced, almost quietly and yet with a burning, unexplainable something-something inside. I wanted, like those first men and women, to run like the wind. It was resurrection power that was shocking and beyond comprehension at first, and then altogether amazing and wonderful. ....

"From the head to the heart, You take me on a journey of letting go and getting lost in You..."

But Sundays are a reminder that resurrection isn't a one and done thing. Some 16 years later, resurrection power reached even deeper. It is one thing to be on the outside looking in, to try to be a good person yet being "almost there, right on the border of God's kingdom." It is another thing entirely to have Love break through culture's tomb of performance, even in a church: A deeply engrained lie that to please people and even God, you just need to do good stuff and more of it.

Ministry burn out.

I had never been "one of those hand raisers," but in a single moment of desperate surrender, up they went. It felt like being in one of those wooden barrels where the bands began to snap off one by one. A new resurrection: Relationship, not performance, won the day and won my heart. And for the first time, I began to understand what real worship, even beyond a song, was all about.

I was reminded of all of that while reading these words from the late Brennan Manning in "The Furious Longing of God"...

"How is that we've come to imagine that Christianity consists primarily in what we do for God? How has this come to be the good news of Jesus? Is the kingdom that He proclaimed to be nothing more than a community of men and women who go to church on Sunday, take an annual spiritual retreat, read their Bibles every now and then, oppose abortion, don't watch x-rated movies, never use vulgar language, smile a lot, hold doors open for people, root for the favorite team, and get along with everybody? Is that why Jesus went through the bleak and bloody horror of Calvary? Is that why He emerged in shattering glory from the tomb? Is that why He poured out His Holy Spirit on the Church? To make men and women with better morals?

The Gospel is absurd and the life of Jesus is meaningless unless we believe that He lived, died, and rose again with but one purpose in mind: to make brand new creations. Not to make people with better morals but to create a community of prophets and professional lovers, men and women who would surrender to the mystery of the fire of the Spirit that burns within, who would live in ever greater fidelity to the omnipresent Word of God, who would enter into the center of it all, the very heart and mystery of Christ, into the center of the flame that consumes, purifies, and sets everything aglow with peace, joy, boldness, and extravagant, furious love. This, my friends, is what it really means to be a Christian. [It] never begins with what we do for God. It always starts with what God has done for us."

For all who come this way on not just another Sunday, and in between all the other resurrection Sundays to come, more of that...and more of You, from the head to the heart.

[Adapted from 4-16-17]

"There’s no shame in looking like a fool, when I give you what I can’t keep to take a hold of You."