Unity

February 7, 2020

“Verily I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever ye shall loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven. Again I say unto you, That if two of you shall agree on earth as touching any thing that they shall ask, it shall be done for them of my Father which is in heaven. For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.” —Matthew 18:18-20 KJV

“Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! It is like the precious ointment upon the head, that ran down upon the beard, even Aaron's beard: that went down to the skirts of his garments; As the dew of Hermon, and as the dew that descended upon the mountains of Zion: for there the Lord commanded the blessing, even life for evermore.” —Psalm 133:1-3 KJV

We Americans have a fascination with the myth of the rugged individualist; that sole person who against all odds achieves by himself what others have been unable to accomplish. We have an Abraham Lincoln whose single-minded determination to preserve the Union propelled him to become the Great Emancipator. John F. Kennedy’s vision for our country inspired us to send men to the moon years after his assassination. Ronald Reagan’s belief in our country reversed the myopic and defeatist malaise that had infected the previous administration, ultimately sealing the doom of the Soviet Empire. Today we have the Donald, who love him or hate him, has by the force of his will transformed the entire political landscape. There is enough reality in the power of a lone single-minded individual to accomplish miracles. What we tend to forget is the ability of these intensely focused individuals to surround themselves with a team that enables them to do what they do. Without a unified team around them, these people would merely be a flash in the pan, shooting stars that flame and burn out. Unity is at the heart of all accomplishment.

Recently I became involved in counseling a couple having difficulties with their eldest son. Early on it became apparent that although they both love him deeply and want what is best for him, they are not in agreement as to how to reach their goals. I fear that their deepest heartfelt prayers will remain unanswered until they resolve the disunity between themselves. Jesus’ words are significant. “Where two or three agree...it shall be done for them.” Disunity hinders our prayers. 

The psalm takes it a step further. “How good and pleasant it is...to dwell together in unity...for there the Lord commanded the blessing, even life forevermore.” This is no casual surrender, no abdication of one partner. Dwelling in unity is deeper than that. Such unity is hard won. But it is highly honored by God; through it he doesn’t add a blessing. He commands it. Sadly, even in Christian homes, the unity is often a mere surface coating, a veneer of accommodation that fails to meet the muster of God’s Word. It is possible only through deep prayer and commitment, through sacrifice and hard trial. But it yields the most delicious fruit, feeding the souls of all those residing in this circle of blessing. 

Floor Fasting

February 6, 2020

Tonight’s gratitude journal is straightforward and simple. Linda had a procedure today that required fasting for 12 hours prior. Fasting and Linda shouldn’t be mentioned in the same sentence. When she gets up in the morning, her feet have hardly touched the floor when she’s ready for breakfast. It doesn’t have to be a lot—an English muffin with peanut butter, coffee, and juice is all she needs, but she does need it. And if she doesn’t drink plenty of water through the day, she gets leg cramps that have literally put her right to the floor. 

So let’s see—12 hours without food or water. In the middle of the night she gets up to use the bathroom. A minute or two later I hear a thump in the night. I call up the stairs. No answer. Knock on the bathroom door. No answer. Open the door to see her lying face down on the floor, out cold. It took a couple minutes to revive her and another twenty to get her where she was able to stand and back into bed.

The procedure went well; no issues, and by the time it was over, they had gotten enough fluids into her that she was navigating pretty well. No nausea, which for her is a small miracle. She doesn’t do anesthesia well, but had no problems today. So tonight I am thankful to have her tired, but well except for looking like she was on the losing side of a boxing match from her visit with the linoleum. We are at the age that we think about what the future holds for us. We don’t particularly care about what is in store as long as we can face it together.

Contentment

February 5, 2020

“LORD, my heart is not haughty, Nor my eyes lofty. Neither do I concern myself with great matters, Nor with things too profound for me. Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul, Like a weaned child with his mother; Like a weaned child is my soul within me.” —Psalms 131:1-2

Every so often in the seven years I’ve been focusing on gratitude, it feels like somehow I’m shirking my duty. People all over the country have been obsessing for the past three years over our president. The Democrats can’t stand him, and take every opportunity to castigate and vilify him, while his supporters vow to stand by him no matter what. Our elected representatives have chosen to abdicate the business of representation in favor of internecine fighting that is so partisan that it almost amounts to open warfare. The media fuel the frenzy and we are now in the beginning stages of an election cycle that has all the earmarks of further polarizing the country, if that is even possible. 

Through all this, I find myself steadily withdrawing from the fray, narrowing my focus to the things I can at least somewhat control. As the psalmist says, “Neither do I concern myself with great matters.” Therein lies the nexus of my occasional twinges of guilt. Shouldn’t I be concerned with such weighty matters? Is it an abdication of my civic duty to let others slug it out? 

Whenever I begin to wander down that rabbit trail, I return to this psalm. I learned long ago that posting things on Facebook is merely preaching to the choir. People who agree with you will hit “like,” while those who disagree want to pick an argument with you. No one’s mind gets changed because everyone there is actually Faceless. We aren’t interacting with real flesh and blood people, with the result that we abandon civility. After all, we don’t have to face that person we’re trash-talking at work the next day.

So I write about the blessings I’ve noticed, the human kindness I see, the beauty all around me, and sometimes about my struggles with faith—not great and lofty matters, but they are what matters to me. George Washington Carver once prayed that God would reveal to him secrets of the universe. “God said to me, ‘Why not try the peanut? It’s more your size,’” he recalled. He went on to discover scores of uses for the lowly peanut. I can’t even claim that, but I can claim a calm soul and a peaceful heart, the product of directing my attention away from the worries and cares of this life and towards the heart and mind of Christ.

3 Things Found Bent Over

February 4, 2020

Today’s prompt is “3 things found when bent down.” It’s an intriguing thought that pushes me to think outside my own boxes. 

I learned a long time ago that if you want a child to talk with you, you have to bend down to their level. You learn lots of interesting things that way. Our little Gemma has been wiggling a loose tooth for at least a couple weeks. The other day, it was hanging by a thread, but she refused to let anyone pull it, and didn’t want to do it herself. I’ve never seen this kind of behavior before; when I was her age, when a tooth showed signs of loosening, I’d be at it with tongue and fingers, literally prying it out of my mouth. My kids were the same. Not Gemma. Sunday, a chance glance her way revealed a new gap in her mouth, so I called her to me and bent down to look. She smiled sheepishly and showed me the empty socket, telling me that it came out in her sleep. Fortunately, she didn’t swallow it; after all, I don’t think the Tooth Fairy leaves anything for pooped teeth.

Most of my shoes are tied loosely enough that I can easily slip my feet into them without messing with the laces. My aunt Marion was aghast one day when she saw me wiggling my heel into my shoe. “You’ll break down the heel!” she exclaimed. Raised during the Great Depression, such a pedantic travesty wouldn’t have been tolerated. We are not nearly as careful of our stuff as are those who know what it’s like to not have it. 

My hiking shoes are another matter. There’s no way I can get them on without carefully loosening the laces before slipping my foot into them. I can’t just stand and wiggle my feet into them. It takes a few seconds longer, but it’s good for the shoes. I wonder how many things in life would be better off if we took the time to bend over and take care with them? 

That’s exactly what God did for us. In Philippians, Paul says Jesus didn’t cling to his status as God, but humbled himself, taking on human flesh for our salvation. He bent down low to save us. Salvation can be lowly, dirty business. It wasn’t something God did casually standing on one foot, so to speak, wiggling and forcing his way into the shoe leather of our hearts. He bent down, carefully loosening the laces by which we were bound in sin, before gently slipping inside us by the Holy Spirit. then he binds up the loose and broken parts, lacing us securely in his love so he can walk out his life in us. I’m grateful he didn’t try to do all this from a distance.

Seeing

February 3, 2020

They slowly walked into the Riverwalk Center arm in arm. He gently guided her to a table where she sat while he ordered from the cafe. I was at a nearby table reading, but couldn’t help but notice them. They were perhaps in their late seventies, possibly early eighties, carrying themselves with an air of genteel elegance. Their meal ended, he took care of the tableware before they stood together. She took his arm as they walked quietly out into the parking lot, all the while staring straight ahead, sightlessly taking his cues from the touch of his hand on hers.

I heard not a word, but years of love emanated from them in a language all its own. The tenderness with which he softly spoke and carefully guided her steps is not the product of our instant gratification society, but was built layer upon layer, year by year, till it bore the rich patina of grace, a depth of love and kindness that sang silently to me as I watched. The heart sees a beauty that mortal eyes cannot behold. He saw her as she was when they first met—young, with smiling eyes. Her eyes no longer saw the lines in his face or the love reflected in his own, but she saw. Indeed, she saw him as he truly is. Linda and I are getting there ourselves, day by day, year by year. I hope we are able to see until the last time we shut our eyes to this world. I want to be able one more time to gaze into her eyes, to behold the beauty of her soul. But even if these mortal eyes should fail me, I will see...oh yes, I will see, and give thanks.

Wordless Prayers

February 2, 2020

Sometimes when I pray, I can’t seem to focus;; words don’t come, my mind is in a whirl. Actually, it’s more than sometimes; it’s most times. I suspect it’s not mere confusion, early onset of dementia, or anything of the sort. At least part of it I believe is spiritual warfare. The Enemy of our souls fears our prayers and will do most anything to keep us prayerless.

Recently, I came across a quote from St. Basil the Great, the 4th Century bishop of Cappadocia. “This is how you pray continually—not by offering your prayer in words, but by joining yourself to God through your whole way of life, so that your life becomes one continuous and uninterrupted prayer.” I grew up learning that Scripture is how God talks to us, and prayer is how we talk to God. Note the emphasis on words. For over fifty years (Yesterday was the fiftieth anniversary of my first sermon as a pastor. I still have the manuscript and can quote the text I used), I made my living with words. They are not unimportant; after all, the apostle John said of Jesus Christ that he is the living Word of God. 

I am thankful however, that prayer is not totally dependent on words. St. Paul even wrote that God hears wordless prayers: “the Spirit also helps our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.” (Romans 8:26). There are plenty of times for one reason or another that words fail me in prayer. When that happens, the Holy Spirit scoops up the heartache and anguish, the longings and intercessions we feel, but cannot express, and translates them into heavenly language heard by the Father. How cool is that?

Giftedness

February 1, 2020

Jeremiah said it. “The heart is deceitful above all things...who can know it?” He mentioned also that it is desperately wicked, but it’s the deceitful and unfathomable part that commands my attention tonight. It’s fashionable in Christian circles to focus on spiritual gifts as God’s key to a fulfilling life. “When we operate out of our giftedness instead of obligation or guilt, we discover the joy of serving Jesus that comes from knowing this is how we are wired by our Creator to live.” Words to this effect are common in the circles where spiritual gifts are bandied about as a cure-all for whatever ails us. “God certainly wants us happy,” seems to be much of the rationale behind such talk. We take surveys and answer questionnaires purporting to help us discover our gifts and live more authentic and fulfilling lives.

I have no doubt that people have different gifts and that if we play to our strengths, we tend to be more satisfied than if we spend our lives merely trying to shore up our weaknesses. I could spend a lifetime studying math, perhaps become somewhat adequate at it, but I would never attain the proficiency necessary to teach, be an accountant, or even keep track of how many kids are in the room at a given time. I’m good at some things; math is not one of them. That doesn’t mean I should ignore math altogether. It just means you should check your change if you buy something from me. You might get back more than you paid!

Ministering out of one’s giftedness is great, but it’s not the end-all. When doing so, it’s easy to confuse our own desires with God’s will; when I was a pastor, I was often a bit wary when people volunteered for things. It is usually difficult to distinguish between God’s desires and ours. The heart, after all, IS deceitful.

One of the ways I have learned to discern God’s voice is when an idea comes to me that is polar opposite of what I would choose to do. When it’s something I like to do, I have reason to be suspicious, but when it’s something God has to drag me into, I can be reasonably sure it’s his idea, not mine. My giftedness may play into it, but often when God leads (or in my case drags me kicking and screaming), he leads us in endeavors for which we cannot discern having any aptitude. After all, if I know I can do it, why do I need God? But if he takes me where I don’t want to go, where I don’t know what I’m doing, where I’m in over my head, and it succeeds, everyone will know it’s his doing and not mine. So I’m thankful that God speaks in ways I do not want to hear, telling me to go places I don’t want to go, and to do things I would rather not do. When I finally give up and say yes, he does amazing things. It’s called picking up a cross, and it’s at the heart of Christianity.