Driving Slowly

October 7, 2017

If my memory serves me correctly, (a dubitable hypothesis at best), Indian summer is that mild weather following the first frosts of Autumn. We had a mild frost about a week ago, so I guess technically we are in it. Either way, the mild weather is enjoyable. At 6:30 pm, Linda and I are sitting on the patio in shirtsleeves, talking and watching the leaves drift to the earth in lazy pirouettes, cat and dog lying contentedly by our sides.

Degree by degree, the thermometer descends as the sun sets, bringing a chill that soon will have me looking for a sweater, and perhaps even lighting a fire in the chiminea on the back deck. To look at us, we are the epitome of relaxed contentedness, but it has been a busy day and week. This is the first time we’ve relaxed in quite awhile. Contentment however, is alive and well within. Like any couple, we’ve experienced a few bumps in the road along the way, a couple even this past week that briefly made the wheels of contentment shimmy as we gripped the wheel a bit more firmly. 

We are at that stage in life where we know there are more miles behind us than before us, but the road has leveled out, and we drive a bit more slowly so as to enjoy the scenery along the way. Anyone who knows us realizes that I am speaking solely about the road of life. Enjoying the scenery in a literal drive is not one of Linda’s graces. She has however, many others that more than make up any impatience with a long drive. 

I’ve been thinking often about the road that lies ahead; what it will mean for one of us when the other has reached the end of the road. Neither of us can imagine what that will be like, despite having witnessed it in the lives of loved ones. And if we cannot imagine it, I don’t see how we can prepare for it, except by continually reaffirming our faith and confidence in our God who gives life to the lifeless and hope even in the night. But until that day comes, we sit side by side, content just to be in each other’s presence, thanking God for the gift he has given us for all these years. As the shadows lengthen, the cords of love that bind us together remain strong.

NO!

October 6, 2017

It’s possible to have too much of a good thing. Ice cream occasionally is nice, but a steady diet of it would not be good. Exercise is good, but there are those who are so body conscious that they have little time for anything else. The same can be said of eating and dieting, making money and leisure. The adage “all things in moderation” is not far off the mark. We humans have a propensity for imbalance that often threatens our own well-being.

Linda and I had a conversation about this earlier today. The challenge I’ve taken on to help lead the Dunkirk church has stirred something within me that is good unless it goes unchecked. I learned a long time ago that church work can take over the pastor’s life. There is always more that could be done than is being done, and the temptation is to tackle whatever lies before us, irrespective of whether or not it is a necessary task. Bill Hybels, pastor of the Willow Creek church, one of the first national megachurches, said to pastors, “Be careful that you don’t let the work of Christ destroy the work of Christ in you.” He knows wherein he speaks; a high energy person himself, he admits to having danced on the edge of disaster by not taking the time he needed to feed his own soul.

I can see much that needs to be done, and it gets the blood flowing. I want to do more, but I know that if I bite off too much, instead of chewing, I’ll be choking. The only way I can spend more time with my Dunkirk family is by letting go of some responsibilities I have elsewhere. It’s not easy saying ‘no,’ but as my friend Willie says, “We need to learn the power of ‘No.’” So tonight I am thankful for the wisdom of years under my belt, a wife who senses before I do when I’m reaching my limits, and for faithful Christians who instruct me with their wisdom. It’s not easy, but I’m learning to say, “NO!” It’s the only way I can say, “yes” to what’s most important.

Awake at 4:00 am

October 5, 2017

Every so often, I awake in the middle of the night to find the other side of our bed empty. Every so often, it’s not until I get up in the morning that I realize the other side is not occupied. If for any reason Linda wakes up in the middle of the night, as likely as not, she can’t get back to sleep. Unless she turns the TV on. I’ve told her it’s OK to do that, but she knows that the flickering screen and the sounds will wake me and keep me awake, which is somewhat odd, since I can’t hear much without my hearing aids. Once she’s awake, her mind starts racing, which isn’t too surprising, since most everything she does, she does at double time. She goes downstairs, turns on the TV, lays down on the couch, and is soon fast asleep. I don’t know how she does it.

I was wide awake at 4:00 am this morning; I don’t know why. Usually if I wake up, I can go right back to sleep, but not last night. After lying in bed for half an hour, I got up, showered, and went downstairs. Our men’s prayer group wasn’t until 6:00, so I had plenty of time. I hope it doesn’t happen again, but if it does, I’ll take it as a Samuel call. The young man Samuel was sleeping one night when he heard someone call his name. Thinking it was Eli, the priest and his guardian, he got up and went to him. Only Eli hadn’t called him. This was repeated, and finally the third time, Eli realized what was going on and told Samuel to say, “Speak, LORD, for your servant is listening.” 

I really like my sleep, but if this happens again, I’ll take it that God has something to say to me. When that happens, it’s a good idea to listen.

Bass-ic Blessing

October 4, 2017

That it might be a bit dicey later in the day was a given, but the morning was so inviting that taking the chance was worth it. I strapped the bass onto the sidecar, tossed my work satchel and bassoon into the tub, and took off up the road. The sky was somewhat overcast, but the air was fresh and cool; just right for a leisurely ride through the countryside. 

Stopped for the light at the intersection of routes 60 and 20, a guy in a pickup truck pulls up beside me and starts talking excitedly about my bike. We converse till the light changes, and he pulls away. The next three hours, it sits in the parking lot behind the church while I work. At 2:30 when I leave for my jazz improvisation group, it’s just starting to mist, but I arrived and unloaded before any serious rain hit. For the next two hours, I didn’t care how much it rained, and when it was time to come home, the skies had cleared, and the ride home was as enjoyable as my early morning jaunt. I wouldn’t have minded riding in the rain; I’ve done that before, but I sure don’t want my 1936 bass to get wet!

Tonight, my thankfulness is for the small blessing of a break in the rain just when I needed it most. No big, earthshaking miracle, but when so much tragedy has been played out before our eyes for the past three weeks, even small blessings are more than welcome; they are wisps of hope in a dark and dreary world.

Averting Tragedy

October 3, 2017

Every mass shooting in recent history has been followed, usually within hours, by press and commentary calling for more gun control on the one side, and by rebuttal on the other side arguing that criminals don’t obey laws, and that as the NRA says, “the only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun.” Conflicting statistics get bandied about and politicians posture while real people are still grieving. We struggle to understand why someone would commit such a horrific act, psychologizing and jostling for position in the debate. People inevitably talk about race and religion, but I’ve never heard anyone in a public position of influence address a common thread that almost always winds its way through the narratives. 

The Las Vegas shooter was by all initial indications, older than the usual perpetrator; he was white and apparently rich. His age and economic status contradict the usual profiles, but in one major way, he was just like all the others. He was raised in a fatherless home. He didn’t even have a poor male role model; he had none at all, and apparently in his adult life, moved from place to place, never building real and lasting friendships. 

Our prisons are filled with men whose fathers were absent or abusive. A fatherless child is the one almost foolproof predictor of poverty, social maladjustment, violence and crime that we have, and yet it is the one social issue we as a society are failing to address. In our desire not to stigmatize a child born to an unwed mother, we have inadvertently fostered an entire cultural subset of fatherless children who are for the most part doomed to poverty, dependency, and often crime. Add our welfare state that essentially makes male presence superfluous, and we have the perfect breeding place for the society we have created. 

The Christian Church and Jewish Synagogue are unique institutions that in addition to their religious training, elevate the role of men in the family. To be sure, one doesn’t have to be Christian or Jewish to have healthy family life, but it is in these traditions that our American society has been rooted, to the benefit of all. But even in the Church, the secular worldview is under attack as male leadership in has been seen as oppressive and demeaning to women. An unintended consequence has often been further erosion of the presence of strong fathers in the home. While I do not believe for a moment that this is intentional, even a cursory glance around the typical Christian congregation on any given Sunday morning will bear our my contention that we have emasculated Christian culture to the point where most men see the Church as an institution for women and children. 

I do not usually bring these matters up in public conversation, but believe it is high time that we addressed this issue in a meaningful way. I am grateful for those congregations that have taken seriously the call to our men to stand for righteousness and faithfulness in their homes, and to call them to commitment to their wives and children for the sake not only of the Gospel, but of our very culture. I’ve been privileged to be pastor of such a congregation, and am grateful that our present pastor is taking this kind of leadership even more seriously than I did. I am hopeful that others will do the same, and perhaps even unknowingly intervene and prevent what could be the next national tragedy.

A Repeat

September 26, 2017

It wasn’t exactly a David and Goliath match, but watching them face off did remind me of the Karate Kid. I was standing by the ropes watching my friend and his opponent as they circled, looking for the advantage. They were in a championship ju-jitsu match, and my friend Cameron looked like he was in for a hard time of it. His opponent swaggered, muscles rippling, while Cameron calmly sized him up. Cameron isn’t pretentious about his skills. Looking at him, he doesn’t appear buff and ripped, which may work to his advantage. He knows his stuff, and showed it that afternoon.

Suddenly, Cameron was on his back, his feet planted on his opponent’s chest while he had a firm grip on his gi. To the uninitiated, his opponent had him down, and we were just waiting for the final move that would put him out. In fact, Cameron had pulled guard on him and had his opponent right where he wanted him, in a grip that was wearing him down, making him use up his energy in a wasted effort to get through to him. Cameron was almost relaxing on his back while his opponent struggled to break free so he could maneuver. As the match wore on, his opponent wore out, and Cameron emerged the clear victor.

The devil swaggers through this world, muscles rippling as he makes an impressive display of might. To the uninitiated, he has Jesus and the church on our back, and is just awaiting the right moment to deal the death blow. To the casual onlooker, we are losing badly, but the saints and angels know better. Jesus knows exactly what he is doing, has a firm grip on old Slewfoot, and is calmly letting him wear himself out. Unlike ju-jitsu, we don’t know how long the match will last; we don’t know when the buzzer will sound, but when it does, God the Father will stand, raising high the hand of Jesus the Victor, to the triumphant cheer of all the faithful ones whose praise to God echoes throughout the universe for all eternity.

The Final Word

October 1, 2017

Look around you. It may not be any worse than in the past, but one thing for sure: the world isn’t getting better. There was a time when thoughtful people believed that we were finally ready to put war and grasping ambition behind us and invest our energies in peace. Our nation is divided, our enemies determined to destroy us, and our communities are inundated with drugs, violence, and corruption. If that weren’t enough, there’s not a one of us who can look within our own hearts without finding sin, regrets, even despair. Even in the places where we expect to find guidance and help, there is only confusion and contradiction. Schools, politics, even churches are often places of greed, corruption, and dark desires. Whenever I feel this world closing in, I remember the words of John Bowring:

In the cross of Christ I glory, 

Towering o’er the wrecks of time; 

All the light of sacred story 

Gathers round its head sublime.

When the woes of life o’ertake me,

  Hopes deceive, and fears annoy,

Never shall the cross forsake me,

  Lo! It glows with peace and joy.

When the sun of bliss is beaming

  Light and love upon my way,

From the cross the radiance streaming

  Adds more luster to the day.

Bane and blessing, pain and pleasure,

  By the cross are sanctified;

Peace is there that knows no measure,

  Joys that through all time abide.

Those words were written nearly 200 years ago by a man who could speak fluently in 22 languages, and converse in 100 more. He witnessed plenty of turmoil in his lifetime as England’s ambassador to China in the years leading up to the Boxer Rebellion. I’ve sung this song countless times over the years. It is based on St. Paul’s word, “God forbid that I should glory except in the Cross of Christ.” 

Today in worship, we sang a more modern version of the same theme:

The cross has the final word

The cross has the final word

Sorrow may come in the darkest night

But the cross has the final word

The cross has the final word

The cross has the final word

Evil may put up its strongest fight

But the cross has the final word

There's nothing stronger, nothing higher

Nothing greater than the name of Jesus

All the honor, all the power

All the glory to the name of Jesus

The cross has the final word

The cross has the final word

The Savior has come with the morning light

The cross has the final word

Tonight I am thankful for these words of hope and encouragement. I sit tonight in comfort and security; countless people tonight sit in grief, fear, suffering, or uncertainty. I’ve been there, though not to the extent of many, and I know the hope these words give. We may not always see it from where we sit, but God’s promise is sure, and the Cross has the final word. The day will come when every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.