Very Present

Alone but never alone in a Hancock field.

He was one of my favorite teachers. When I was struggling to get my academic feet under me as I transitioned from junior high to high school, he helped spark my lifelong love for history. His teaching was rich with stories that somehow made it all seem relevant and even enjoyable to a 15-year-old kid. I got A’s and B’s in his class (can’t say the same for all the others that year). And that would have been good enough, except his influence didn’t end there. 

And many decades later, I’m just now seeing it.

Some of the wisest, most inspirational and successful people who walk into our lives have followed Biblical principles without even realizing it. I was reminded of that history teacher recently, whose winsome teaching and storytelling were, though I didn’t realize it at the time, in the footsteps of the Greatest Story Teller of all time. No wonder I loved it. But I was especially reminded of his influence on my life when reading familiar words from Psalm 46: “God is our refuge and strength—a very present help in time of trouble.” …

…“The best offense is a great defense! Defense!” 

My history teacher, who was also the varsity basketball coach, would yell that at us over and over at practice, and even in games. He was convinced it was the foundation for success and he wouldn’t let us forget it. But then moments after playing strong defense, my teacher and coach would yell encouragement, “Good! Now work the offense. Work it! Be patient.”

No wonder he became the most successful basketball coach our high school ever had. Because the psalmist reminded me that Someone else had already laid down that perfect blueprint for success before the beginning of time. All these years later, I realized that as “our refuge and strength,” God is my defense AND offense in the battles, challenges and stresses of life. Coach was right—defense comes first, just as the psalmist wrote it. And as defender, I was reminded that God is my safe place and protector who intercepts passes meant for harm and blocks shots before they hit their mark. (Thank You, Lord!)

Running to our Shield and Defender first, and again and again, as the psalmist writes, is always the first step. The next is to “work the offense. Be patient!” The teacher, the coach and the Word teamed up in a loud voice: The battles may be the Lord’s to win but not while I watch from the stands. It is His strength working through me—my trusting, believing, obeying, persevering, full-court pressing faith. God’s part and my part working together...just like a great basketball defense and offense.

And just maybe God used that classroom and basketball memory to drive home the rest of that verse from Psalm 46. Because the teacher and the coach seemed to fade from the scene as I got to the phrase I —maybe all of us — may have needed to hold onto most...

“A very present help in times of trouble.”

Whether it's times of sadness, weariness, stress, uncertainty or confusion, I needed to hear for the gazillionth time that God is not only my greatest-ever defense and offense, He is always “very present.” Things you know but things you forget in the heat of the moment. But very? How can anything be more present than present? Perhaps it was the psalmist’s “I don’t have the words for this” way of saying, of encouraging us all, that no matter what the season and unlike any other friend on earth, God is:

Always ready.

Always listening.

Always near.

Proven.

Trustworthy...

...Undefeated!

That wherever we go, there He is. That whether we are stuck inside during a snowstorm, or halfway around the world, or “If I ride the morning winds to the farthest oceans, even there Your hand will guide me, Your strength will support me.” (Psalm 139:9-10)

That the greatest gift we can open every Christmas is the “very present” one that promises:

‘Listen! The virgin shall conceive a child! She shall give birth to a Son, and He shall be called ‘Emmanuel’—meaning...

...‘God is with us.’ ” 

(Matthew 1:23)

“You know when I sit or stand. When far away You know my every thought. You chart the path ahead of me and tell me where to stop and rest. Every moment You know where I am. You know what I am going to say before I even say it. You both precede and follow me and place Your hand of blessing on my head. This is too glorious, too wonderful to believe! I can never be lost to Your Spirit! I can never get away from my God! —Psalm 139:2-7, Living

Headlights

When unexpected light on a Nativity scene becomes more than just coincidence. 

Some would call it a revelation. Others would call it an epiphany. Still others would be more down to earth and call what happened this week “a light bulb went off.” 

In this case it was all of that and more.

It was headlights.

After our team rehearsal on Thursday night, while everyone was getting into their cars to head home, I took a slight detour out to the new Nativity scene on the front lawn of the church. It was time to update the photo on our Facebook page and what could be better at this time of year? Except it was too dark. There were spotlights and streetlights at a distance, but not enough to highlight the characters at the manger. “Eh, maybe I’ll come back on a sunny day…oh, what-the-heck, let’s give it a shot.” And as perhaps all the angels in heaven had a good laugh watching, just as I focused in and was about to click, a car with those super-bright, usually annoying headlights pulling out of the parking lot “just so happened” to ever-so-briefly shed its bright beam on the Nativity as it drove out into the world.

Perfect!

And that was cool, and that was that. Until two days later when the revelation-ephiphany-light bulb really hit home. In the early morning, when all was just as dark as it was on Thursday night, I “just so happened” to be reading from Psalm 67 to get some fuel and grounding for the day ahead. And it was here that the headlights-on-the-nativity became more than just a random happening in the middle of the week…

...At the end of each Sunday morning worship gathering, our pastor sends us out by praying what is known as the Aaronic blessing from Numbers 6:24-26 (aka, “The Blessing”) over us. While the words become familiar to the ears, they never get old. And then he drives it and us all home by adding, “Bring that Light out there!” 

I had no idea that a similar blessing was sitting right there in Psalm 67—one that summarizes everything within our pastor’s message, and that shed a revelation-epiphany-light bulb on the headlights in the manger two nights earlier…

“May God pour His blessings into us

And turn His face to shine His light on us

[insert drum roll here]

So all those on earth will learn to follow Your way

And see Your saving power come to redeem all nations.”—Psalm 67:1-2

If ever I had any doubts, it answered the question of “why do I go to church, anyway?” once and for all. I was reminded that I come to get decluttered from the weights of life and this world and to see once more with the eyes of heaven. I come not for religion but for what some might call a “radical” way of life. I come not to try to become perfect but to follow that Child in the manger who grew to become the Light of the world, Who made a way to forgiveness and healing and an abundant, everlasting life when there seemed to be no way (try as I might). And I come not to hog it to myself, to selfishly be blessed and then go on my merry way. 

I come to be like those headlights—to focus on what truly matters and then not leave it behind but carry it out the driveway and into the world around me on all the other days of the week. To “bring that light out there” in word, deed, attitude, conversation, compassion, kindness, encouragement, prayer to “all those on earth” who are on my daily path. To remember, in the words of author Jeff Deyo:

"Worship is life. Every breath. Every word. Every thought. Every deed. In public. In private. Everything. Everywhere..."

“He’s already made it plain how to live, what to do, what God is looking for in men and women. It’s quite simple: Do what is fair and just to your neighbor, be compassionate and loyal in your love, and don’t take yourself too seriously— take God seriously.”

—Micah 6:8, Message

O Little Town

Sometimes, the best prayers can begin on Main Street.

It was tempting to stay inside, drink coffee and enjoy the peace and quiet of home on a dreary Saturday morning. It was better to fight temptation and head to the track. Because for every “Why on earth am I doing this?,” there was an unspoken answer deep within: “Because you process things better here and clear your mind here...and especially, get the right perspective here.”

But I was not ready for, in the words of the great Yogi Berra, “it’s like deja vu all over again.”

Because with the usual last leg sprint to the finish, a strange “where have I seen this before?” moment flashed through my mind: The wind and light rain in my face, the same dim lighting of the gray morning, and the empty grandstand. The sounds of silence…No one wants to relive the pandemic lockdown of 2020, but that is just what I was reliving on that last sprint.

And it wasn’t a bad thing but a good thing—actually, a healthy kick-in-the-behind thing delivered from Heaven as if in a “just a friendly reminder” that it’s easier to pray when in crisis mode and then let it slip at other times. It was April then, not December. But the run, wind, rain, eery morning light, the empty grandstand were the same, and provided a flashback of what it all triggered that morning in 2020. Something really important and timeless—

Every prayer we make, big and small, starts right where we are…

...There is so much going on to pray about, and it’s overwhelming. 

Where to start?

Even if I can’t swallow all the world’s problems, I can always start right here, right where God has planted me.

Because God has said: “Seek the welfare of the city where I have sent you …and pray to the Lord on its behalf…” (Jeremiah 29:7)

This O little town, just like a lot of O little towns—in the middle of nowhere,

But it is still somewhere special to God, and God always notices, and as a song says, “You love this city and You love these streets.”

And I am not here at this time in history by accident, even if only to seek its welfare.

So I will start here and pray prayers of blessing over it in every way.

Pray big prayers, like Awakening—which is beyond my imagination but not too big for God.

And protection from all sorts of evil and tragedy.

And for small businesses to not just survive but thrive.

And for overwhelmed parents and teachers, and restless, stressed students.

And for the hospital, retirement/nursing homes, and emergency responders who battle giants of every kind every day.

But also, I will pray seemingly small but important prayers—the ones that can sound silly coming out of your mouth.

Like when you run past the empty bleachers at the track and yell,

“Lord, please fill them again, shoulder to shoulder, full of joy—by September!”

(And leaping for joy now knowing that prayer was answered in a big way, even if not in September of 2020)

Knowing that those are not silly prayers at all because God likes using sporting things in the Bible like running races and boxing to drive home important things in life like perseverance, faithfulness, passion, and never giving up.

Things I still cannot hear enough of on this Journey.

But more than that, also not a silly prayer at all because it is really a prayer about 

Community,

And community is not the idea of some planner or civic leader or chamber of commerce.

The inventor is God—it has been His intention from the very beginning:

“It isn’t good for man to be alone…” (Genesis 2:18) and “He makes a home for those who are alone.” (Psalm 68:6)... 

A December 2022 update...And community right now, especially during this season, is needed more than ever.

When the holidays can exacerbate triggers of loneliness, and loss of family and friends.

When a phone or the Internet can too easily become someone’s best but can’t-hear-feel-or-touch friend.

And to know that I am, or once was, or might easily become one of them.

And to start praying again—right where God has planted me.

In this O little town, in the middle of nowhere…

(To all who pass this way today, insert the name of your town here________, and go.)

“Who knows but that you were brought to the kingdom for a time like this?”—Esther 4:14

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

And Never Forget It

Sunrise in the neighborhood...grateful for another new day.

How often has a little everyday scene (like this sunrise moment from earlier this fall) in our lives stopped us in our tracks, almost as a heavenly tap on the shoulder that says “pay attention to this.” One moment would be wonderful, but when there are three saying the same thing, the tap on the shoulder becomes a grab. Three such moments from this year—one in summer, one at the start of this month, and one this week—are sticking to my soul as a theme in a very good sort of way.

And I wonder if they might be a universal call to planet Earth from Heaven’s megaphone?

First, at my high school's 50th reunion this summer, out of a ton of things to remember and celebrate, there was this billboard that God himself seemed to be pointing to most of all:

“‘Enjoy the life and breath I have given…and never forget to be grateful.’ 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.’ So bark less, wag more. Amen, and amen (and never forget it).”

And then, as October turned to November, the theme suddenly burst on the scene once more. On Twitter, no less. As I quickly scrolled through my feed one morning, there was a photo with a message posted by a friend that seemed to jump out of the phone and into my heart more than any news event of the day:

“Happy November…November is the month that reminds us to be thankful for the positive things in our life.”

And then this week, as 2022 turned the corner toward Thanksgiving and Christmas, the theme again stopped me in my tracks. It was loud and it was wonderful. It was a simple photo and message from our high school’s athletic director and his family:

“This year we are starting a new tradition, getting a tree up a little early and filling it with things we are grateful for. #thegratitudetree”… (All the decorations are gratitude reminders.)

These three simple markers seemed to be shouting the same thing: that while it is always good to be thankful, being grateful is even better. The two words are not the same. One psychiatric medical professional put it this way:

 “Gratitude is an attitude of appreciation under any circumstance. Gratitude involves being thankful, but it is more than that. Gratitude means expressing thankfulness and being appreciative of life daily even when nothing exciting happens. …Gratitude is your decision that the day is a good day even when evidence points to the opposite. You do not need something good to happen to have gratitude, and when bad things happen, your gratitude does not falter.”

So, yes, it is good (and delicious) that the fourth Thursday of every November has been set aside for simply giving thanks. But maybe God's grab of my shoulder is saying it is better to know and remember this..

Gratitude is always in season.

And so from high school reunions to a friend’s tweet and to a family’s fantastic Christmas tree, I am resolved on Thanksgiving week to once again live by a resounding theme. The invitation to join is open to all…

For every to-do list, shopping list, and priority list, add this one:

A gratitude list.

Count your many blessings, name them one by one.

All of them.

The ones you take for granted.

Like your own bed after a long day.

Or how no two sunsets are ever the same.

Or, an eagle flying low overhead as you run near a field.

Go ahead. You will soon run out of paper.

And things like negativity, self-pity, envy and irritation will run out with them...

“Therefore, as you have received Christ Jesus the Lord,

Walk in union with Him,

Reflecting His character in the things you do and say…

Becoming continually built up in Him

And becoming increasingly more established in your Faith…

And overflowing in it with gratitude.”

(Colossians 2:6-7, Amplified)

Remember that worship is my response to a revelation that everything—

Every single good and perfect gift in life, and the Life to come,

Is from Him.

Every day.

Take nothing, nothing, absolutely noting for granted.

Give thanks with a grateful heart.

Amen and amen (and never forget it).

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

—Meister Eckhart, German theologian

Field of Dreams

A summer evening visit to an old friend: the Cheney Avenue field.

Whenever I drive by it, I can’t help but take my eyes off the road for a second or two. Whenever I walk or run by it—and that is often— can’t help but gaze at its rolling knolls and tall grasses and wildflowers. And whenever I walk through it, I can’t help but stand in the middle of it all and just stand, and be in awe, and rest, and breathe deeply, and find invigoration for the journey.

Especially if you’re from around here, in a land filled with woods and mountains, there is something about a wide open field that is magnetic—something that makes you want to pause from the chaos, busyness and to-dos and pull off the road for a second and just take it all in. What’s with that? Perhaps it is as simple as God’s DNA in all that He has made—fields, creation, and we creatures that He loves—that is bubbling to the surface, and we don’t even realize it. Bubbling up and begging for attention amidst all the 24/7 noise. Not unlike what the psalmist famously discovered many years ago:

“The Eternal God is my shepherd, He cares for me always.

He provides me rest in rich, green fields beside streams of refreshing water.

He soothes my fears;

He makes me whole again,

Steering me off worn, hard paths to roads where truth and righteousness echo His name…” (from Psalm 23, The Voice)

And sometimes, those “rich, green fields” can even show up as a field of dreams…

One morning not long ago, I awoke to words from a song I had not heard in awhile:

“And all I did was pray

And all I did was worship

And all I I did was bow down

And all I did was stay still…”

Strange. I wasn’t sure where that came from or what I had been dreaming about, but I did know I had a lot on my mind and lots of loose threads to corral. And I had to wonder that if instead of mere coincidence, God, who neither slumbers or sleeps, saw that as well. Perhaps those random lyrics weren’t random after all and were simply a loving reminder that I needed to hear to start the day:

“I AM still here.”

And as I peered into them, I realized that those lyrics in the night weren’t strange at all but were the formula for getting through just about anything in life, including all those loose ends that need corralling:

Stop striving.

Stop trying to win this battle on your own.

Stop running away and run perseveringly to green pastures instead.

Stop trying to live by performance and approval and instead find God’s grace and mercy in time of every need.

Be still and remember that you have a Savior who is forever your advocate, no matter what.

He was, He is, and He always will be your defender:

“The Lord will fight for you. All you have to do is keep still.” (Exodus 14:14)

And whenever you need a reminder, go take a walk, or go for a run…

To that familiar place nearby where you can’t help but gaze at its rolling knolls and tall grasses and wildflowers. 

To go stand in the middle of it all and just stand, and be in awe, and rest, and breathe deeply, and find invigoration for the journey.

And remember once more, for the thousandth time:

“Let be, and be still, and know, recognize and understand,

that I am God.” 

(Psalm 46:10 Amplified Classic)

The Parable of the Old Bridge

All things new. (If you're from around here, no caption necessary.)

Once upon a time, in a land not very far away, an old bridge in the middle of nowhere was languishing under the weight of the world. It was uniquely shaped, just like other bridges, and its stones-and-rocks appearance was uniquely designed—each one precisely and perfectly fitting together. On the outside, the bridge was beautiful and had thousands upon thousands of friends who smiled as they went by. On the inside, though, the bridge had become tired, and beat up, and found it increasingly hard to greet each new day cheerfully.

Plain and simple, on the outside, all looked well. On the inside, the bridge was broken, and felt small and forgotten out here in the middle of nowhere. Surely, it thought, only the bigger bridges in the bigger towns and cities were noticed and cared for. So, for many years, it tried patching things up here, and trying to smooth things over there, and applying new coats of pavement to try to cover what was really wrong underneath its skin. That would always work for awhile, but soon, the little bridge would again feel tired, beat up, and broken. And the weight of carrying the cares of the world, day after day, night after night, winter, spring, summer and fall, became heavier than ever. Would anyone notice out here in the middle of nowhere? Would anyone care?

Then one very cold day while crying out for help, there was a voice unlike any the little bridge had heard before. Even in the winter chill, it was warm and powerful and wonderful: “I have come to bring you back to life!” But because it was so burdened and hardened, even cynical, from years of frustration, the old bridge wondered, “Is this really true, or is this just another self-improvement idea that goes nowhere?” But the voice, unlike any the bridge had heard before, continued...

“Where I’m from, all things are possible!”

With its back up against the river banking and nowhere else to turn, the little bridge surprised itself by saying, “OK, I give up!—and I believe you can do just what you say.”

And so it began. Immediately, some obvious surface things in the bridge’s old life changed right away. The sky never looked bluer and the air never felt more refreshing. People could tell that something wonderful was happening. But for the most part, the voice worked day after day after day on the heart of the old bridge’s infrastructure—the places most people could not see but where it was most broken. No more patching things up. Lovingly, patiently, and with great artistry, the voice brought new strength, new life, and new hope to the little bridge. Its effects were being felt all around.

Still, it seemed to take forever, and some days and weeks felt like two steps forward and one step back. But then there came that glorious time not many days ago when the old bridge looked at it itself and noticed it was still uniquely shaped with its beautiful and uniquely designed stones-and-rocks appearance, but everything felt, well, different—especially on the inside where no one could see. The little bridge was beside itself in wonder and joy and hope, even though it knew that along with days of warm sunshine ahead there would always be those days and years of storms and fog and burdens. Even so, everything had been fixed up, like never before!

Or so it thought. Until that same warm and wonderful and powerful voice came by to admire his makeover and to make one more makeover to the little bridge’s thinking: “Fix? Not at all. Look at yourself. See? I make all things new!” And best of all, the voice promised to always be ready to help in the days and years ahead, whenever it was needed...

“We are all trophies of God's grace, some more dramatically than others; Jesus came for the sick and not the well, for the sinner and not the righteous. He came to redeem and transform, to make all things new. May you go forth more committed than ever to nourish the souls who you touch, those tender lives who have sustained the enormous assaults of the universe.”—Philip Yancey