Always There

"After all, God is God, because He remembers."— Elie Wiesel

For photos on every camera roll, for every audio recording session, for every player on a team, and for every suggestion or good idea proposed to find a solution, the four hardest words to hear are these: “didn’t make the cut.” Unwanted. Not quite as good as something else. Destined to be forgotten. No one cares, really.

And then one day, that idea that was met with silence becomes recognized as “wait, that’s actually brilliant,” the player who gave his all but was cut gets a call and becomes an integral part of the team, that song somewhere on the cutting room floor gets picked up and becomes just what someone needed to hear, and a photo taken but entirely forgotten suddenly speaks like a symphony’s fortissimo.

That empty park bench on a rainy fall day is one of those loud, "forgot I took this one," photos. It looks lonely and forgotten, too. Except look again: someone noticed. A person with a camera walked by and instead of seeing lonely and forgotten saw something beautiful instead. Seeing that B-roll photo this week was a reminder of the amazing way that God looks at us—never unwanted and forgotten, or never accepted, loved and remembered only when our performance is just right. But...

“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord.

    “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.

—Isaiah 55:8

"I have loved you with an everlasting love." — Jeremiah 31:3

We can't be reminded enough that we are known intimately, watched continually, and loved deeply.

“Nah, not me, though. Not today.” Well, yes, actually! 

And, as is the case more often than not, it is His Words that speak louder and better than anything we could think or say or write—but just to reinforce the truth that God's Word always extinguishes the lies, and doubts, and fears of rejection, the sound track for His Words is photos that supposedly “didn’t make the cut,” all beautiful in their own way…

"O Eternal One, You have explored my heart and know exactly who I am;

You even know the small details like when I take a seat and when I stand up again.

    Even when I am far away, You know what I’m thinking.

You observe my wanderings and my sleeping, my waking and my dreaming,

    and You know everything I do in more detail than even I know.

You know what I’m going to say long before I say it.

    It is true, Eternal One, that You know everything and everyone.

You have surrounded me on every side, behind me and before me,

    and You have placed Your hand gently on my shoulder.

It is the most amazing feeling to know how deeply You know me, inside and out;

    the realization of it is so great that I cannot comprehend it.

Can I go anywhere apart from Your Spirit?

    Is there anywhere I can go to escape Your watchful presence?

If I go up into heaven, You are there.

    If I make my bed in the realm of the dead, You are there.

If I ride on the wings of morning,

    if I make my home in the most isolated part of the ocean,

 Even then You will be there to guide me;

    Your right hand will embrace me, for You are always there.

Even if I am afraid and think to myself, “There is no doubt that the darkness will swallow me,

    the light around me will soon be turned to night,”

You can see in the dark, for it is not dark to Your eyes.

    For You the night is just as bright as the day.

    Darkness and light are the same to Your eyes.

For You shaped me, inside and out.

    You knitted me together in my mother’s womb long before I took my first breath.

I will offer You my grateful heart, for I am Your unique creation, filled with wonder and awe."

Whenever whispers of "forgotten" or "not good enough" try to creep in (and they will), it will be good to go back to that park bench photo and see things once more from God's perspective, and be amazed, and grateful, and "filled with wonder and awe." And while there, maybe practice an ancient prayer that's worth carrying in our back pocket wherever we go…

“…Breathe in, ‘You are here, Lord’ and as you breathe out, ‘And I am with You.’” 

[Updated from "Where 'Forgotten' Doesn't Exist," originally published November 2017]

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

Key of Be

Getting the right perspective down by the river, Depot Square.

"All that I am, praise the Lord; everything in me, praise His holy name." (Psalm 103:1)

A timeless prayer…

I really don’t care if the songs are the latest and greatest

Or 20 years old, or 200

Each day, just help me to choose to pick up my harp of David

Even if that harp is a shaky voice on a cold winter morning

Seated or standing

And whether I feel like it or not

In sighs, in a happy groove, or ridiculously off-key—doesn’t matter

Just awake my soul to go Vertical

Let simple words and melody draw my eyes and heart Upward

Where they belong

Each note, each word, building a crescendo of faith

In who You are and what is True

To be reminded once more of Your amazing grace and endless love

Because this stubborn heart is prone to wander, Lord I feel it,

Every 30 seconds

Words ancient or lyrics modern, doesn’t matter

So long as they are life-fueling Truth and everlasting ropes to hold onto:

Great Is Thy Faithfulness…

Your Love, Oh Lord, Reaches to the Heavens…

Your Grace Is Enough….

But the greatest of these is Love

"So amazing, so Divine—demands my soul, my life, my all"

Every day, let me fill up my heart with these and more for this Great Adventure

Over mountain tops and through potholes, in sun and rain,

En route to the finish line…which really isn’t a finish at all

Because the song within will never end

But along the way, let me remember to exhale praise in every season

So I can keep breathing in deeply

The rarefied air of Your tangible presence in every step of this Journey

The rarified, pure, refreshing air that is like a brisk January morning

That is the mysterious, jaw-dropping power of Your Name

That Name…that alone can slake every parched thirst and dry season

That Name…that alone can reawaken awareness of entirely practical yet supernatural

Faith, hope, and love—wherever I go, even here

Alive in this time, this place, for one purpose only:

To walk each day with You in Your unlikeliest of mission fields

To sing to my soul of Your mercies for as long as I have breath

So that it comes out my pores

So that I may somehow reflect the Song that’s within to someone, anyone out there

Who maybe hasn’t heard it yet

Or feels adrift and confused in 5/4 time

Or, who simply needs to be lifted out of a minor key

To just… be.

“The way we perceive Jesus affects the way we live, and how expectantly we face our daily lives. If we have a huge and uncompromising view of Him, it'll lead to adventurous and exciting lives of faith.”—Matt Redman

[ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED 1-26-14]

The Turkey Trot Parable

A chilly morning at the track, where a story comes to life.

Before sunrise two days after Thanksgiving, I had just come into the warm house after gazing in wonder at the stars twinkling away on the western horizon. Each one was perfectly in place, just as God said they would be when He put them there.

It brought a rush of comfort and peace to start the day. That would have been enough, but when I stepped back inside and warmed up with coffee and words of wisdom from good books and The Book, I jotted down four seemingly random, unconnected themes that, as I pondered them, were not random or unconnected at all.

In fact, they were an eye-opening reminder of what makes for a satisfying life and a fruitful Walk—and a daily mission of things to give, pursue and be:

Giving…not just your resources to those in need, but your gifts, talents, abilities and time.

Persevering…in every aspect of life, refusing to quit or become complacent.

Encouraging…this is huge. The Bible tells me so. What the world needs now.

Seeking…the last thing I read but really the lynch pin of all the rest; to keep seeking first the King and His kingdom, and everything else—giving, persevering, encouraging—will flow out of that. Flow out of me.

As I pondered some more, all the fullness and sluggishness from turkey, stuffing and apple pie from two days earlier seemed to be replaced by something light and energizing. Something so Heaven-sent and yet so practical for carrying God’s light within me to the people and places of every single day…

“Giving is the secret to a healthy life. Not necessarily money, but whatever a person has to give of encouragement, sympathy, and understanding.”

—John D. Rockefeller

And while pondering, I was reminded of the Turkey Trot from Thanksgiving morning, and how I also came away energized and not exhausted and wondered why. Maybe because it was where those four seemingly random themes came together. Which reminded me of a parable for this Journey from a Trot not many years ago...

Every half-mile, they were there. Cheering, shouting, encouraging, applauding.

As if you were the only one running this race. Except there are many, many others.

These teammates of encouragement are not hired hands.

They are all on the same team, and they had run this race already, and they knew its course well.

They knew where the steep hills and unexpected twists and turns were, and cheered louder.

“Great job! You can do this! Wooooooo!”

You hear that, and you notice your pace quicken, energized and less labored than when running alone.

Persevering, one step at a time.

And just when you don’t think you could gulp oxygen fast enough, there they are again:

“You’re doing great! Half-way there!” Low-five hand slaps as you run by.

Then…stretches of middle-of-nowhere... and nothing but the sound of pounding feet and labored breath.

No cloud of witnesses anywhere in sight. There’s only way one to turn: Up.

“O God, help!”

And as you seek, you find that He is still with you, cheering perhaps louder than all the rest.

And you find that it is here when men, women, youth, children, each take on their in-race cheering roles as they run alongside or pass one another. Where have I heard this before?:

"One generation shall praise Your works to another,

And shall declare Your mighty and remarkable acts." (Psalm 145:4)

But not just the older to younger, but younger to older, too. 

Hope rises.

And around the bend and into the warm sun, voices of another cheering throng:

“Keep going! One mile to go! Well done!”

The last leg of the journey, on your last legs, your mind screaming “give it up already!”

But perseverance kicks in again with an unexplainable spring in your step as you hear the cheers and feel the warmth running through your veins of running with purpose—even with a whole bunch of strangers, and yet family.

A spring in your step from coming alongside someone more than twice as young but struggling for breath: “C’mon, you and me, we can do this!” (There is no “i” in t-e-a-m.)

Giving…encouragement…hope. And getting it in return.

And then, the finish line in sight, and one more much-needed cheer—this time, an exclamation point from someone older and wiser:

“You’re almost there…now, pick up your pace! Go!”

What words of wisdom!

Then, that glorious line in the road, the stop watch, and the roar of a crowd of people you never met.

...Almost like heaven.

“So encourage each other and give each other strength [build each other up], just as you are doing now.”

—1 Thessalonians 5:11, Expanded

Strength On the Horizon

 The summit of Monadnock emerges over the horizon in Nelson. 

Adventures to desired destinations, like a favorite get-away spot or in the arms of a loved one who lives far away, can be heart-pumping and filled with anticipation and wonder. And then there are those days and even seasons of adventures to desired destinations of another kind—a personal goal yet to be conquered, a vision or dream yet to be fulfilled, a not-yet answer to an oft-uttered if not desperate prayer—that can seem like nothing in front of you but miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles.

"When are we going be there?" Even the best and strongest and most youthfully fit, as Isaiah writes, can grow weary from the journey.

On many days in that kind of not-yet-there adventure, inner resolve kicks in: "I've come too far; there is no turning back now." But that kind of fuel only goes so far. Then what? Like ancient Israel, the response can seem silly at first but it can also prove powerfully simple: a more important resolve to take our eyeball stare out of the miles-and-miles of seemingly endless horizon and choosing instead to find strength by looking up, gazing at, or even climbing one of God's most energizing type-and-shadow creations...

“I will lift up my eyes to the mountains. Where will my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, Who made heaven and earth. He will not let your feet go out from under you. He Who watches over you will not sleep.”—Psalm 121:1-3

Around these parts, it's a 24/7 open invitation. The hills and the mountains are magnetic attractions for just about everyone, perhaps because we can sense deep inside that their beauty is more than earth-skin deep. Like everything else God has created, they contain His deeply embedded fingerprint, His DNA, and He longs that all would see it, touch it, grasp it. Grasp Him. Because in a sense, the hills and mountains are displaying God's unshakeable character, reminding any and all who would look Up of His incomparable strength, faithfulness, and jaw-dropping beauty that can help the traveler on life's journey to keep going...no matter how many miles-and-miles of "not yet" are ahead.

Because whether we see it or feel it now or not, Someone greater has the perfect road map. No Siri necessary. And if there are no hills or mountains nearby, it's good to know that God still speaks to us everywhere we go through all that He has made. How often have we felt a certain God-speaking assurance about His hugeness that comes when surrounded only by huge open fields or smooth-as-glass lakes, or that unmistakable yet mysterious sense of "God's got this" majesty, power, and faithfulness when standing at the ocean's edge far removed from the gum-drop hills and 4,000-footers. His deeply embedded fingerprints are everywhere we look, if only we will.

Even so, the mountains and hills seem to speak with a different Voice. Their uniquely strengthening presence silently shout:

"Look Up. I Am faithful.

I Am not going anywhere.

I Am your God who is always there for you

And here for you,

Warm daylight or cold blackness of night;

Sunny or stormy weather

And perhaps most especially

In the fog...

Looking southeast from Mount Washington summit.

...When you can't...see...a thing.

But fear not, I can see behind you, beside you, and far ahead of you.

I Am...Solid.

I Am...Unchanging.

I Am...Immovable.

I Am...Unshakable.

I Am...Majestic.

I Am...Filled with unique facets of unspeakable beauty and delight,

No matter which angle you look up.

And when the sunset dances around just right, it's not just camera-worthy...

 Monadnock at sunset, from Old Sharon Road.

...It's declaring:

I AM the Glory, and the lifter of your head."

Blessed indeed are all who, along life's wonderful and sometimes crazy adventures, learn to "head for the hills" and remember to lift up eyes, breath, and heartbeat.

"These mountains, which have seen untold sunrises, long to thunder praise but stand reverent, silent so that man's weak praise should be given God's attention."

—Donald Miller, "Through Painted Deserts"

Walking in Peace

A late fall afternoon along the Wapack Trail.

When having "one of those days" or "one of those weeks"
When answers to prayer don't seem to be happening fast enough
Or the way you had hoped

When you are forced to slow down when you'd rather go fast...

And even on those days and weeks when all is right and good

When it's easy to trust in your own wits

When it's too easy to say, "I've got this"...
It is always wise, and never crazy, to talk to yourself

About two simple things:

"Put your hope in the LORD.

Travel steadily along His path."

- Psalm 37:34, NLT

This, too, is worship.

"The soul that loves God has its rest in God and God alone. In all the paths that men walk in the world, they do not attain peace until they draw nigh to hope in God." 

- Isaac of Ninevah, early Church mystic

The Porch Awakening

On this porch, to everything there is a season…

A time to sweep up wind-blown pollen and a time to sweep away wind-blown snow

A time to put up a Christmas tree and a time to set down some warm-weather seedlings

A time to listen to the sound of thunder and falling rain and a time to listen to the crinkling sound of snow against the screens

A time to eat a summer meal barefoot and a time to drink a steaming beverage in a hoodie

A time to stop the wheels of doing and unexpectedly doze off, and a time to hear the screen door slam on the way out to more yard work and tending the grill

A time to savor a warm breeze on a summer evening and time to feel the roar of a winter gale

A time to hear all of creation awakening the dawn and a time to to hear the deafening silence of a January night..

A time to be grateful, and never a time to be ungrateful…

Of that last one, I often wondered why that is, until one day this week, a little early morning routine awakened a discovery.

Because on this porch, in every season, no matter the weather, the early morning routine begins by prying open eyelids, coffee mug in hand, and looking out into the woods, and thanking God for another day of “life and breath and everything else” and declaring regardless of current situation, mood or attitude one of the most common praises of them all: “This is the day that the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.”

And the awakening was this: When the author of Psalm 118 first shouted that most common praises of them all, it wasn’t just to celebrate a fresh start, a new day, and “let’s go!” 

He was celebrating gratitude in the midst of life’s daily trials, stresses and battles.

How no matter what was going on his world, he felt the Lord’s love that never quits

How in his moments of anguish and fear, when he cried out to God, even just “Help!,” He answered

How that he found even the best plans and systems and ideas of the world paled in comparison to knowing the smartest Man in the room

How that when surrounded by difficulties and perplexities and battles and a mile-long “to-do” list that “swarmed around me like bees,” he found order and victory and strength to carry on by declaring the unmatched power of the Name of the Lord over each and every one of them.

How that just when he thought he couldn’t take much more, the Lord came to his rescue and became “my strength and my song; He has become my salvation.”

How that somehow, he saw the day when the Savior of the world would come and turn history on its ear, so much so that it would become “marvelous in our eyes.”

And how because of all of that and so much more, no matter his disposition or whether he was feeling “up” or “down” with his Walk at the moment, he couldn’t help but celebrate that every day through thick and thin has been a gift, and that God has been in them and with him through them all.

And so he shouted:

“This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it!”

He’s been faithful in all the rest and He will be now...

Which may be why this porch, in every season, is my favorite room in the house.

It’s where each day begins.

It’s where after this week's awakening moment that, hopefully, I will not take the psalmist’s declaration for granted ever again.

Because in every season, every day is a time to grateful, and never a time to be ungrateful.

“Gratitude can transform common days into thanksgivings, turn routine jobs into joy, and change ordinary opportunities into blessings.” — William Arthur Ward