Pleasing My Father

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I went out to get the mail. I knew it probably wouldn’t be there, but I needed some fresh air…and steps…always steps.

It wasn’t there.

I wasn’t ready to go back into the overheated house. (One of the challenges of living with an older person with no insulation on her bones.) I knew that older people kept their homes warmer. I just wasn’t ready to be in a house where the furnace ran most of the day. The air was warm and sometimes hard for me to breathe.

Fresh air would do my brain some good. I sat in my chair and soaked in the sun and bird songs around me. My eyes closed in a moment of sweetness.

As soon as my eyes opened the sweetness was gone. No longer did the bluest sky fill my vision. Nope. All I could see was the dirt and debris. And the song of the birds was replaced by my father’s voice. I was transported back to high school, I found Dad in the garage cleaning and grousing. Dad took great pride in his well manicured lawn and clean garage.

The image barely passed and I found myself looking for a broom and dust pan. Items found, I quickly set about the task of sweeping the garage, porch, and front walk.

Sometime around my third pile of sand and stuff, I thought, “Dad would be pleased.”

My dad died in 1989. I never felt like he was proud of me. Not proud that I was fourth runner up to Miss Teenage Columbus. Not proud that I was a First Class Girl Scout. Not proud that my class elected me to student council as I was entering High School. Not proud that I graduated in the top 10% of my class of over 30. Not proud of anything I did, or who I was.

Once he told me I’d never write anything anyone would ever want to read.

And yet, here I was sweeping out a garage in a house he never lived in…hoping he would be pleased with me, with the job I had done, that I’d even thought to care.

When I was all finished I sat back down in my chair. I felt a brief wave of sadness flow over my heart. But just as quickly as it was gone, I felt a warmth—the warmth of a smile. In that mysterious way of knowing, I knew it wasn’t a smile from my dad. This smile came straight from my Holy Father. The One who knows me, loves me, walks with me, stays right by my side. The One who created me, sustains me, encourages me, strengthens me. The One who is always proud of me.

My name is written on his hands.

So is yours.

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Second Glance, Second Chance

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I read a post this morning by my friend Tammy Whitehurst (look her up on Facebook, she’s an awesome communicator). It made me cry. Happy tears. Finally, I found someone who’s Easter experience resembled mine.

Most of what I’ve been reading since yesterday is more lament. Sadness over what we missed: big choirs, lots of celebration, surrounded by a warm sense of community, family feasts—all the good stuff Easter evokes and offers.

I had very little of that. But what I did had touched my heart deeply. Please don’t miss the blessings that came while you pine for what wasn’t.

The message that was laid on my heart to share from the Easter story was the word of the angel to Peter…including Peter. The Easter message is a message of hope and restoration. Peter’s story is our story. Peter, after his pathetic personal performance (aka betrayal) was being offered a second chance.

Don’t miss the second chance you’re being offered.

It seems to me that when the people of God have gotten too comfortable, God shakes up the pot. Ask Job. Check with David. Look at Paul. And don’t forget those wandering former slaves who just couldn’t get it right…take another lap around Mt. Sinai.

Before this current pandemic went down. Before you were ordered to stay home. Do you remember wishing you had more time to read your Bible? Do you remember wishing you could have more time to dig deeper, move deeper spiritually?

How’s that working for you? How much TV/movies etc have you binge watched? I’m not saying it’s bad but I wonder how good it is for your spirit?

Confession. I found I was reading “news” articles on line far more than I was reading things that would encourage my faith and spirit. I felt myself sliding down a slippery slope into cynicism and despair.

Fortunately, after a long conversation with a friend (face to face and safely distanced, thank you Louise Waller) I was able to pull myself out of the nose dive. But I’m going to tell you, it was like what you see in the movies when the pilot is pulling back on the control with all their strength—not sure if they’re going to make it.

I made it.

You can too.

But second chances, like what Peter got, like what God has for each of us, are a gift we have to receive. Intentionality is involved. Want to is mandatory. We may not be able to choose your circumstances or situation, but we choose our response.

Peter could have heard the message and not believed it could be true. “Yeah, right. Maybe for someone else—not me.” Or like the rich young ruler in Jesus’ story (see Mark 10:17-31) walk away empty handed, empty hearted.

If all we see is what we didn’t have this Easter…then we walk away empty handed.

What did I learn? You take away all the trappings. All that is familiar and comforting. All that I count on. And I can still find so much to be thank-full for. So much room for praise. And a joy this world cannot take away.

What blessing did you receive in this unusual, but very special holy season?

Birthday Reflections…

My birthday celebration began with my mom coming to the breakfast table singing Happy Birthday. For as many years as I can remember she has called me early on my birthday and sung to me. It was quite special to hear her in person.

After breakfast I took a 15 mile bike ride. I miss the smooth, trafficless paths back home, but I was blessed to ride under the bluest of skies with the best weather anyone could order: perfect temp and just the lightest breeze.

Now I’m playing Scrabble with Mom. We play two games in the morning and two in the afternoon. We set the limits because more than two games without a break leaves Mom exhausted.

This is not how I saw my birthday unfolding as 2019 drew to a close. I imagined eating out with my husband and having special time with friends. We would watch baseball and I would tease with my grandson. I would revel in the blessings and treasure the moments.

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Last year when I felt led to adopt  “Go further” as my mantra and motivator for 2020…I had no idea where it would take me, or what it would mean for me—or my family.

The impetus for this motivator came to me last summer when I pushed myself to ride 30 miles. For me it seemed like an unlikely, if not impossible goal. But I decided to try and I achieved what never though I could.

What else could I accomplish if I decided to try instead of believing I couldn’t? What would it mean to go further?

Do you know what the hardest part of a long bike ride it? For me, it’s not the steep hill at the end of the ride. The hardest part for me is getting out the door. I can find countless reasons to not do something. I can put up the best arguments…in my own mind. And to often, I’m my own strong excuse.

So this morning, I decided no internal argument was going to keep me from taking a birthday ride. The sky was gorgeous and the recent strong winds were completely absent. I headed to the shed got on my bike.

Recently, I increased my distance from 11 to 13 miles. In the winds lately, that was a chore! But today a voice whispered my ear, “Go further!” The battle began. Why? Why not? I was getting a little saddle sore. Would I have to walk up the hill? Why not stick to the known? Why not stretch? You can! But should you even try?

I rode right past the road that would have taken me home in 13 miles. I approached the hill I had told myself was too steep. If I had to walk it part way, fine. But I was going to try. I was going to push myself further.

That hill proved to be easier than the one I normally chose and struggled through. I used my gears. I had plenty left in my tank to finish the last mile strong.

The first quarter of this year has been a challenging time, especially with the COVID19 crisis. But the challenges for me began before I ever heard of the virus. I came to visit my mom in southern Arizona after I finished at a clergy women’s retreat in Phoenix in early January. She came down with pneumonia. I’ve been nursing her back to health ever since.

Here’s something I have learned: don’t make a promise unless you intend to keep it. I told my mom if she every felt she needed me to come and care for her I would be there in a blink. I assumed somehow that referred to a physical need. I hadn’t considered the power of an emotional need. My mom buried her second husband two years ago and subsequently went through two major health events alone. The pneumonia broke her independence. She doesn’t want to face life alone.

So I’m here.

My husband and family are in Ohio. He will be moving before the end of the year to live with his mom who needs him.

Our belongings are being sold. Our home will be sold. Our marriage will be tested by distance and change. But it’s making us aware that life is always moving further forward and we can fight it or we can figure out how to adapt and find purpose and joy.

So today I am 63. And I’m going to figure how, in this new normal, I will continue to move forward—Go further!

Strength For Shaky Times

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Psalm 121 1-2 I look up to the mountains;
    does my strength come from mountains?
No, my strength comes from God,
    who made heaven, and earth, and mountains.

3-4 He won’t let you stumble,
    your Guardian God won’t fall asleep.
Not on your life! Israel’s
    Guardian will never doze or sleep.

5-6 God’s your Guardian,
    right at your side to protect you—
Shielding you from sunstroke,
    sheltering you from moonstroke.

7-8 God guards you from every evil,
    he guards your very life.
He guards you when you leave and when you return,
    he guards you now, he guards you always. (The Message)

Negative news. Fake news. No news. Too much information. Confusing and conflicting words coming from sources that should encourage us, solidify us, comfort us…direct us. Who do we believe? Who can we believe? What do we want to believe?

If my peace, my strength, only comes from external and world-based sources, I will always be tossed about, unsettled, and lost.

My strength, my peace comes from a source that is consistent, unshakeable, and always right on time.

The One who is my strength will not allow me to stumble, not from weakness nor in the dark. None of the confusion swirling around me occurs without the awareness of the One who created everything and promises to make all things new.

This One, this creator, is also the shield providing relief and protection. The promise rings true: God is not going anywhere—whether we are close or running, struggling or resting. This One who knows us best and loves us most guards us now and always.

Find your peace there. Find your strength there.

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More Bubble Thoughts

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I love bubbles. And I love the thoughts that bubble up with them.

This morning when I closed the Dawn bottle at the end of dishwashing, I watched to see if I would be rewarded with a few bubbles. The smallest bubble I’d ever seen escaped from the bottle.

It was a baby bubble. And while some may have groused at it’s minuscule size—bemoaning not only it’s quality, but lack of quantity—I giggled. And then I became thank-full.

My itty-bitty friend reminded my of my least favorite hymn: Showers of Blessing. I loathe the chorus: Mercy drops round us are falling, but for the showers we plead.

I prefer a different hymn and way of looking at things…like my tiny bubble. In the hymn, Great Is Thy Faithfulness, we are reminded of the words from Lamentations: “Morning by morning new mercies I see; all I have needed Thy hand hath provided.”

Big or small, all good gifts come from the One who loves us and knows what we need (see James 1:17).

So today, let’s not miss the smaller blessings that come our way while beg and expect great things to happen.

 

Valley of Shadow

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So on my walk today, I was thinking back to the Living Stream service from Sunday evening. The couple that brought the message shared about their CPE (clinical pastoral education) experience. I could relate because of my own training (10 quarters in KC, MO).
 
Their words, my walk, and my current situation, brought to mind the words from the Shepherds Psalm: Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. (Psalm 23:4)
 
Until my walk this morning, I always associated this verse with someone getting ready to die. Or for the family of someone who just passed.
 
But what if, we see it more as a verse that stays with the theme of provision. What if when we feel like we’re walking in the dark, into the unknown, we choose faith over fear, trust in the provider instead of our own wits and abilities?
 
Or…what if our training and experience prepares us to walk with others into their dark valleys. What if we are called to be their light and their comfort. Not everyone can do it. But if God calls us, he will equip us, and he will use us.

Finding Community

When I stop in at my favorite local coffee shop I see a group of women huddled over the newspaper working the daily crossword puzzle together. While searching for words they share stories and coffee. Their laughter is sweet music. Their focus on each other blesses me. So I finally stopped enjoying them from afar and went to their table.

“Hi. My name is Tina. I write about the things I see, and I have watched you each time I come in. And I want you to know how much you bless me by faithfully meeting together. May I take your picture? And would you mind if I wrote about your little coffee shop community?”

They agreed on all accounts.

During Super Bowl LIV, Facebook paid the big bucks and had a commercial highlighting their different groups:

Why is Facebook and all the other social media sites (Instagram, Twitter, SnapChat, et al) thriving? Probably for the same reason it’s sometimes hard to get a seat at one of our local coffee shops, or why McDonalds is packed out before the sun comes up with seniors drinking coffee and chatting—and trust me it’s not about the coffee!

Whether it’s coffee, beer, or the daily crossword, we all crave a sense of community: we want to feel like we belong. We need to know that if we reach out someone will be there. That someone will care.

Now before the introvert and hermit crowd get all in a huff, and mumble something about not needing anyone: the bottom line is we really do need each other. Even introverts need people…just in small, controlled, selective doses. 

I believe that human beings were created by a loving God to be in relationship: relationship with the creator…and with each other. That’s why in the manual for living (aka, the Bible) there are so many instructions to work on the relationship with the creator (Love God), and to love one another. It’s both and. Love God—vertical relationship. Love each other—horizontal relationships.

So I’m wondering, how are you, how are we, doing at creating and maintaining healthy relationships, holy connections?

More thoughts on this will follow…let’s stay connected. 

Last Words…

(Once again going through writing files. Finding this the day after the tragic helicopter crash that killed nine people in California, including Kobe Bryant and his daughter, just seemed serendipitous. That and realizing how sick my mom was last week, well, I just want to encourage us to say those things that need to be said to find healing, comfort, and closure.)

My dad died in August 1989. He had cancer of the bladder that metastasized to his lungs, kidneys, and finally the brain. In July, he had a seizure, and while his body kept functioning, my dad was gone. I came home while he was still in the hospital. I was sitting with Dad, giving Mom a break, when the fog in his brain lifted. He began speaking clearly and using familiar hand gestures and expressions. It was so good to see him. He started to make me a diagram on the tablet I was writing on. About thirty seconds into what he was explaining his writing and his speech began to slur, and he was back in the fog.

A few weeks later, we received a call from Mom. The hospice nurse had told her to gather the family. They didn’t know if he would even make it through the day. It was the quickest trip from Kansas City to Columbus we ever made. That was Friday. Dad lingered until Wednesday. Each of us had our time by his bedside. We all said lots of things, but I don’t know what he heard. More than anything I said, what I wanted was to hear him say he loved me…one more time.

Last words. They hold such power and weight. Jesus knew that. As he came to the end of his time, he gathered the disciples close, and gave them his undivided attention and teaching. As I think through those lessons I’m thankful Jesus’ last words to Peter weren’t about his betrayal, but were an instruction to feed Jesus’ sheep.

Last words. Here’s the problem with them. Jesus knew when he was going to die. He had the opportunity to plan out those final meetings with the people who mattered the most to him—an advantage not many of us have. We rarely have a clue what could happen in a day. This was driven home to me when the husband of a friend had a colonoscopy done, and two weeks later he was gone. Or when my fifteen year old nephew fell off a cliff at church camp and died. Or when one month after becoming friends with a precious, encouraging woman, she was killed in a head on automobile accident.

So here’s what I think the challenge for us is. We have to learn to somehow live as if all our words were our last words. As if all our lessons to our children were the last lessons we were going to give. Would it make a difference? Hopefully, there would be more love and grace. When asked if he knew he only had a short time to live if he would change anything, John Wesley replied he would not, implying he was already living with a sense of the importance of each moment. Are we there yet? I know I’ve got room for improvement.

In Ken Gire’s book, Reflective Living, he discusses the Shema. He describes how important this was to the Jewish believer. It would be the first thing they said every morning and the last thing said every night. Their last words before they died would be the Shema: “Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength (Deut. 6:5, NIV).”

If we were living this kind of ALL consuming love, perhaps we would come to say all the things we need to say while we’re alive. I believe living all out this way will make Jesus’ last words more real to us, and help our words, first and last, count more now…

…and in the end.

And Be Thankful…

(I’ve been staying with my mom for a couple weeks. She is recovering from a nasty bout of pneumonia. This morning we were having a conversation about worry, control, and acceptance of the new normal. After our talk, I found this piece in my to be finished file. The message seems timely…hope it is for you, too.)

Have you ever considered what it must have been like to be Adam and Eve? How perfect their life was. How every one of their needs was met before they could ask. How they had no questions, because there was no need. How every day they walked with God—they were completely in his presence.

How cunning of the Tempter to challenge their naïveté, their simple way of life.

He challenged them on the only front he could: their desire for more, their sense of entitlement. And they bit and bought his deception, and that introduced the problem of dissatisfaction to the whole human race.

We are entering the season of the year when we focus not only on being thankful, but a time when we contemplate the giving of the greatest gift—God himself coming as a baby—born that man no more may die.

Recently, I spent some time in my Sunday message addressing how meekness is not weakness. I suggested the definition: Meekness is therefore an active and deliberate acceptance of undesirable circumstances that are wisely seen by the individual as only part of a larger picture. 

I think Paul must have understood this. 

To the Corinthian church he wrote: Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong (2 Cor. 12:8-10, NLT).

Eugene Peterson in The Message gives us this paraphrase of the same passage: I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations. Satan’s angel did his best to get me down; what he in fact did was push me to my knees. No danger then of walking around high and mighty! At first I didn’t think of it as a gift, and begged God to remove it. Three times I did that, and then he told me, My grace is enough; it’s all you need. My strength comes into its own in your weakness.

Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. Now I could see Christ’s strength moving in on my weakness. Because of this shift in thinking, I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get—the less control I try to muster, the stronger I become.

To the Colossians Paul also wrote: And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts. For as members of one body you are called to live in peace. And always be thankful. Let the message about Christ, in all its richness, fill your lives. Teach and counsel each other with all the wisdom he gives. Sing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs to God with thankful hearts. And whatever you do or say, do it as a representative of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks through him to God the Father (Colossians 3:15-17, NLT).

And to the Thessalonians, in his final advice section, he pens: Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus (1 Thessalonians 5:18, NLT).

James got it too: Dear brothers and sisters,[a] when troubles of any kind come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow. So let it grow, for when your endurance is fully developed, you will be perfect and complete, needing nothing (James 1:2-4, NLT).

Our strength comes from being grateful that God is in control. We can rely on him. The recognition of our inability to control things is where our weakness meets up with God’s strength.

This is where I find confidence to declare with Paul, that we can do all things through Christ who strengthens us.

It’s not a matter of “doing” everything. 

I can’t do everything, or every thing.

But I can face what ever comes my way.

Because he promises in all things we are—or can be—more than conquerors.

So when the tempter slithers up beside and tries to convince you that you don’t have enough, or the best, or less than someone else—call him what he is: a big fat liar.

The LORD, he is your shepherd…and you have everything you need…

…and be grateful.

Part 2: Applying the Critique

(If you didn’t read the previous post, you might consider doing so…in case I can’t make this make sense on its own.)

Today has been a full day of blessed meetings, phone calls, and contacts…but also a day saturated with the awareness of growth. That’s all so exciting to me.

As I am typing this post, I feel lighter and hopeful. I have been able to shut the door on the negative messages I had allowed to permeate my thinking, mood, and actions.

My work with writing critique groups has been very helpful as I have struggled to understand the critique I received on my messages. Here are few important things I’ve learned about critique:

  1. When people are courageous enough to give you their perception, don’t ignore it. As weird as it may sound: it is a gift.
  2. As the receiver of critique, we have the opportunity accept or reject what is being offered. Prayerfully listening will assist in one’s ability to discern what’s best and truly helpful.
  3. This bullet may not apply to you, but it’s abundantly true for me: I do not need to be perfect. Perfection, or the expectation of perfection, can often limit our ability to grow. I will either be disappointed because I’m not measuring up, or feel defeated and just give up. My goal needs to be growth (process/journey) not perfection.
  4. There’s always something to be learn. When we stop learning, we stop living.

So how do I apply this learning from my experience with writing critique. Here’s what I know about myself.

  • I like writing devotions. I major in paring down the fat, leaving the nugget. So why should I be wounded that someone is saying I’m too long winded. Cut back on the fluff and make sure the treasure (main point) shines. Editing is our friend.
  • I teach a course to men and women preparing for leadership in the Church of the Brethren that focuses on Christian Education in the Small Church. I remember clearly telling the class that the message is not the be-all-end-all of the worship experience. Yes, I put enormous energy and study into crafting a message plan that builds on the full word of God. I give attention to my year plan and series of messages. I focus on the things that are distinctive to Brethren. I challenge myself. I listen to the Spirit. I’m sensitive to the needs of the people. But the message is just one part of the worship experience. I had forgotten this. The weight I put on the message and myself had become disproportionate. I don’t even like thinking about what it had become.

Here’s where it gets super exciting for me. The Enemy of my soul and ministry was winning while I was stuck licking my wound. Ugh. Nelson was right. I let it go on way too long. The great and wonderful news is: I’m back! I’m ready to grow. I have a new tool and I’m not afraid to use it—to the glory of God and the help of my neighbor.

Get ready church! God’s my best editor. Here come his treasured nuggets.