The Wave

Building waves at North Beach, Ogunquit, Maine.

Once upon a time, in fact, only a few days ago, a man had a real-as-life dream that seemed to have been triggered by something far removed from whatever he may have had to eat before bed.

This was no usual mish-mash of his day’s or life’s events, or a weird blend of the stuff weighing on his subconscious, or the panic of classes he missed in college. This was one of those rare dreams when he knew when he was in it and when he awoke that it was not trivial but perhaps weighty and Eternal. The kind you don’t dismiss with a yawn and a strong cup of coffee, but the kind that you write down—every detail—and ponder, and pray about, and wonder, and pay attention to…

…The time was late winter, perhaps early spring. I was standing on a sidewalk outside our town’s elementary school looking out on the large expanse of playing fields down the embankment. Everything was covered with water, like a large lake or an ocean. The water was heaving and gently rolling. From the south end of the field, a train of snow piles that seemed to have gathered momentum, as though pushed by a river during spring thaw, paraded on to the back of the “lake.” This seemed to cause what looked like a huge building wave that was coming toward me and other unknown faces around me, and we sensed it was coming toward the school—but not in a horrific or fearful way. There was no panic, although I felt myself instinctively running for cover to get out of its way. As I turned around to look, the building wave was very blue, as if from heaven itself. Just as I was about to reach an unlocked door to the school gym, the wave had somehow surrounded me and was coming from the other direction as well. Again, no nightmarish fear. I remember diving through it and feeling neither cold nor warm but incredibly refreshed. A friend who had been with me said he decided to ride the wave, and though he was soaked, he was beaming from ear to ear with joy. Once inside the gym, although the wave had washed over the school, all was well. Peaceful. Of note, however, was where there had been an actual slow drip of water from a leaky roof had turned into a torrent. No one was concerned. Someone who appeared to be a teacher approached with a smile and gave off a vibe that everything was going to be fine. The scene suddenly transitioned to walking out of the school and back to my car. And as I walked down a hallway, it morphed into a sprawling restaurant-like atmosphere crowded with adults who were loud and having fun but who seemed to be totally oblivious to what had just happened down the hall and outside…

You have probably heard on the news or online about a wonderful wave of spiritual awakening that is significantly impacting several college campuses and even public schools across the nation. The media isn't quite sure what to make of it. Church people in my generation have tried to define it, label it, critique it, even make it their own. But this is not about us, really. This is about God sovereignly showing love to a generation desperately in need of some. Many are, reportedly, being healed of deep hurts in the process. They are discovering or rediscovering who Jesus is, that He is not “religious” or political, and that He is more than a figure from history. And they may or may not be interested in coming to our churches or listening to sermons…yet. Shocking.

Because this is a wave of Love that does not precisely fit a mold from “revivals” of the past, it has caused some to question its authenticity. In fact, however, it looks something like this: a young man who seems troubled and weighed down by the craziness of the world around him is approached by a Believer, greeted by name, told that God loves him, and is given a hug. And a dam breaks. Simple as that. That kind of “revival.”

If the man’s dream means anything, that sort of wave can happen wherever we live, and it is not to be feared but embraced. But none of us will make it happen. It can’t be announced or programmed or event-ed. If there is a wave in our towns, it will be a sovereign wave of God. And it will be because of one thing— someone and several someones prayed, and never quit praying, for the kids and teachers in their community. And it will be because our generation embraces the wave but gets out of the way and simply stands ready to be spiritual moms and dads. Ready with a prayer, a “God loves you” and an embrace.

May my generation never be like that oblivious, “who cares?” throng in the dream’s restaurant.

That would be a nightmare. 

“But when the Son of Man comes, will He find faith on the earth?” (Luke 18:8)

Hope In the Woods

Like Robert Frost’s on a snowy evening, my woods are “lovely dark and deep” Even on a gray early morning like this.

And no matter the season, they are a window with a non-stop, open invitation to stop and pause…

And slow down and breathe deeply…

And be still…

And in the stillness, be thrilled to hear this day off in the distance the familiar songs of early spring birds.

The same ones you hear on a warm summer night!

To take time to fill your heart and soul with simple gratitude…

It’s a new day, “let us rejoice and be glad in it.”

To let your mind wander a bit to the day ahead,

And even a bit randomly, but perhaps perfectly, to ballplayers gathering under warm sunshine for spring training—where everyone is hopeful, no one has lost a game, and no matter what happened last year, all begin with a clean slate ready to be filled with dreams and goals.

So good.

But even better to find your thoughts suddenly shift to this:

That no matter how many faults and blemishes you can see in yourself,

No matter how bad your morning breath may be,

The God who made you and formed you for an abundant life loves you incredibly anyway.

(And besides, it is His breath in your lungs, so how can it be bad?)

A time to focus on that sun trying ever-so-hard to break through the cloud cover and remembering some favorite words…

“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)

Amen. Sometimes, simple prayers are the very best.

These woods that are “lovely dark and deep” at 6 a.m., and have an aroma of earth

That’s almost as intoxicating as the smell of cookies in the oven

Will likely be, according to the forecast, like Robert Frost’s later this week.

Such is the tease of late February and March in New England.

But “to everything there is a season,” even this one.

Because through all of its up and downs, this early morning pause is a reminder that life is good.

Because God is still faithful.

He hasn’t left the building.

And though the morning clouds have now covered the sunrise glow in the east,

In the stillness, my woods that are “lovely dark and deep” are nevertheless shouting encouragement:

“May the God of hope fill you with joy and peace in your faith, that by the power of the Holy Spirit, your whole life and outlook may be radiant with hope.” (Romans 15:13)

Here we go!…

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

Backyard Wisdom

On a weekend like this, we could all use some wisdom from a warmer day…

…The red lantern was one of the few remaining things from my parents’ house that, for some reason, I held onto. I’m not a huge fan of red, and its fuel-burning capabilities had been dismantled. But I kept it because it was a fixture at their front door, hanging off to the side as a symbolic beacon of welcome to all who entered there. Several times, I’ve walked around my house looking for an appropriate place to put it, but it always looked out of place. Several times, I was ready to send it to the recycling center, until I walked out onto the porch one night this summer…

“This must be the place for it. Totally rustic like the rusty old lantern.” Except even here, there was no place to safely hang it, and having it sit on the floor or a table just looked…strange. So, I took that red lantern in hand, resigned once and for all to put it in the garage next to the other recycling center things awaiting the next trip. I decided to take the more pleasant short cut to get there—out the screen door to the backyard. And there it was—the perfect spot, even though it had been probably staring at me for months:

On the top step leading to the porch. A beacon of welcome to all who entered there, even if that “all” in the backyard would be me nine times out of ten. I don’t think that was coincidence. And I don’t think family nostalgia was the story ending that God had in mind. Because as I tucked the lantern into the corner away from the elements and door slams, while there was no thunderous voice from heaven, I sensed something quite loud and familiar from within…

“Your Word is a lamp for my steps; It lights the path before me.”—Psalm 119:105

And now at home on that top bakyard step leading to the porch, that old red lantern now has a small LED within it, helping to remind me that:

• God’s guidance, protection, wisdom, discernment and direction are gifts…but I also need to walk them out every time I step out the door.
• I have a purpose every single day…Every routine, every conversation is an opportunity to make a difference because I carry the Light within me wherever I go. To remember what Jesus said and still says: "You are like that illuminating light. Let the light shine everywhere you go, that you may illumine creation, so men and women everywhere may see your good actions, may see creation at its fullest, may see your devotion to Me, and [who knows?] may turn and praise your Father in heaven because of it.” (Matthew 5:16, Voice)
• I carry a weapon of hope and praise…because that Light can break through someone’s dark and heavy mood, and through all the negativities and unknowns of life.
• I have the world’s most reliable GPS…God’s words of life and His presence within me help me to see and trust for what is ahead, even on those days when I can’t see one step in front of me.

And unlike the LED inside it, that old red lantern on the backyard step nevertheless reminds me that though I grow weary at times, my Light never goes out, never needs batteries or solar power, and never loses power—the Light of the world is always true and right, sometimes piercing but always faithful, sometimes mysterious but never wavering, and always shining for my good so as not to hog it to myself but to lovingly reflect Him in some way to those along my path.

And so, to live in such a way as this:

“We can be the Light of the world without leaving our high beams on and annoying everybody.”—Bob Goff

Swoosh

(Photo: Jon Flobrant @unsplash.com)

“When the peace of God follows the purity of God's wisdom into our hearts and lives, it will affect those around us.”—David Jeremiah

One day, on a snowy morning much like the many we’ve had this week, I was cross-country skiing through a field near my home. The freshly-falling snow seemed to muffle all sounds except for the swoosh of my skis as they moved forward. But then overhead, I heard a loud “Whooo—whooo!” A beautiful owl, blending in with the snow and branches, was observing my progress. Wherever I went, the owl’s head seemed to follow, watching over every glide forward, pause, and work-around of obstacles.

As I continued on my snowy morning journey, I realized there may have been more to the moment than just a cool encounter with a beautiful woodland creature. And while swooshing in the silence, I thought…

When I grow up, if I ever really do, I want to be wise like that owl.

Someone who somehow sees life more clearly in front, to the sides, behind, and to the front again—all the time,

Who seems to know what to do, what to say, how to move, and also how and when not to do any of those.

Is that even possible?

Maybe there is a reason that the owl’s cry is “Whooooo.” Because much more than a beautiful thing to be grasped, wisdom is a Person to know and hear and obey…

“For the LORD gives skillful and godly wisdom; from His mouth come knowledge and understanding.” (Proverbs 2:6)

Maybe it wasn’t coincidence that the owl was perched high above me so that I had to look Up...

...Because when it comes right down to it, the beginning of wisdom that can be life-changing is leaning hard into the Source of all wisdom…“Reverence for the Eternal is the first step toward wisdom. All those who worship Him have a good understanding.” (Psalm 111:10)

Start there…and then look for God’s footprint, God’s breath, God’s love, in everything—the big decisions of life and the day-to-day, the forks in the road, and in the arts and at the games, at the jobsite, out in creation, and in conservations and observations at the coffee shop and at the recycling center.

Sometimes, it’s hard to find God’s wisdom in the news, but it’s there, somewhere, too.

And if I look and listen carefully, it can come through other people, 

Even those who see life differently than I do.

It’s especially in that dog-eared book filled with wonderful words of life...

“The teachings of the Lord are perfect; they give new strength. The rules of the Lord can be trusted; they make plain people wise.” (Psalm 19:7)

Amen to that!

But He not only speaks through the pages of that book, but everywhere.

Like here in this snowy field…if only I will listen.

Is that even possible?

“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)

And I don’t even have to be grown up to qualify! Or an owl.

Just to remember, as the wisest Man who ever walked the earth said, ”follow Me.”

The world, even my own little world, will be better for it.

Swoosh….

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]

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]