High-Low

November 30, 2016

On the way home from granddaughter Izzi's basketball game tonight (her team won!), Nate asked their normal suppertime question: "What was your high today?" and later, "Did you have a low?" It is something he started years ago to get the girls to open up about the things going on in their lives, and to help them focus on the good things in their lives. The rules are simple; when someone is talking, the others listen, and you have to have a high, but not necessarily a low.

The question finally came to me. It was hard, not because there was nothing good in my life today, but because there were so many good things. I was able to help my friend Harry split and stack a load of wood, the part of my woodpile that was not yet undercover I got in the shed, listened to two different friends concerned with the direction their churches are going, got to see Izzi play basketball. That's just for starters. The only 'low' is my left wrist, which throbs almost continuously. It gets worse when I do heavy work, and limits my practice time on the bass, but all that is pretty small stuff compared to what many face on a daily basis.

It's quiet here tonight. The clock behind me is tick-tocking its way through the evening, the dog snoozes on the floor before the fireplace, while Linda checks recipes. In a few minutes, I'll write another chapter or two in this year's Advent story before turning in for the night. All of this happens within the context of the Scripture I read this morning. Paul's letter to the Galatians presses home his conviction that we live by grace, not by keeping rules. It is that grace that sets us free from worry and fear, the worrying about our past, and fear of the future. For this especially, I am thankful tonight.

Longing for God

November 29, 2016

"One thing have I asked of the LORD, that will I seek after: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to inquire in his temple." Psalm 27:4

When I left the house this morning to have breakfast with my friend Willie, Linda was slumbering quietly in bed. It's not often that happens; she has lots of friends who often want to have breakfast with her, so she's usually up pretty early. Before heading out the door, I switched on the Christmas tree, plugged in the lights to her carolers on the mantle and the creche in the hallway, and lit the lights around the porch windows. Linda loves decorating for Christmas, and has a real knack for it. Cresting Airport hill, I became aware of a physical ache somewhere inside me, and realized it was my longing just to be in her presence. Three years ago we wondered how it would be for both of us to be retired. Would we grow tired of being together all the time? Turns out, I can't get enough time together.

The Scripture for this morning speaks of a similar longing to be in God's presence, a determined seeking him out just to be with him. It is an admirable sentiment, but I have to admit, my longing for God is not nearly as strong as my longing to be in the presence of my wife. I can't ever remember wanting God so much that I literally could feel the ache inside me. So, after all these years of being a Christian and a pastor, I still have a long way to go, and much to learn. My prayer tonight is that I would long for the presence of God as I long for the presence of my wife. That would make me very thankful.

Remembering

November 28, 2016

"Remember." It's that simple. In our men's Bible study, tonight we worked through Ephesians 2, where St. Paul tells us what we were before Christ, what God has done for us in Christ, how and why he did it, and then implores us to respond to it all. You might think he calls us to do some great act of courage or faith, to demonstrate our devotion with some act of obedience or worship, but all he says is, "Therefore, remember."

Memory is a wonderful and fearful thing. Many of us have memories we'd just as soon forget;  sins committed, opportunities missed, traumas we have endured. Memories like this haunt us, dogging our path with regret, pain, and that sense of isolation that strikes fear into the soul. They evoke emotions that are just as real as at the time we went through that experience, though it be years ago. Then there are those memories that conjure up warm feelings of connectedness.

Most of us know someone who is present with us in body, but the ravages of dementia have erased huge swaths of memories to the point that they no longer even know who they are. The loss of memory can be as fearful as the presence of it. In the text we studied tonight, that simple command is arresting. We aren't commanded to do some great act of faith, nor to observe a ritual of devotion, but to simply remember.

I've found that it is when I forget that I get into trouble. I get distracted, let my attention wander, simply put...I forget to remember. I cannot think of a single sin I've ever committed, an opportunity missed, that isn't traceable to forgetting to remember what God in Christ has done for me, made available to me.

This season of Advent is a time of remembering, not merely with nostalgia, but with that active memory of what God in Christ has accomplished for our salvation and life. There is nothing missing, no shortfall of grace and mercy.

John Newton is remembered for penning the words to that most-beloved hymn, "Amazing Grace, How Sweet the Sound." He wrote of how he had learned the Gospel at his mother's knee, but forgot. Over and over, as he descended into sin, becoming a slave trader, and finally becoming enslaved himself, he forgot. Until the day he remembered, and returned to the Christt who had been pursuing him for years. As an old man walking the streets of Bristol, he would often talk with people. Inevitably, he would tell them, "I am an old man and have forgotten many things. But this I remember: I was a great sinner, and Christ is a great Savior."

Remember, Jim...and give thanks tonight.

Where Lies the Heart

November 27, 2016

How she does it is beyond me. Sunday dinner with the family is always a raucous affair when the entire crew is present and accounted for. The kids spread out to the back room and spare bedroom while we clear the table and do up the dishes. Conversations shoot back and forth, criss-crossing the room until two by two, the kids gather their children and head for home. Linda and I have a short while before it's time to head back to church to teach bass in SOTA, our school of the arts.

When I return around seven in the evening, it is to a home warmed by the fire, scented by Linda's candles, with Christmas decorations starting to take their places from the back room to the living room. It's a good place to come home to. I'm not the only one who thinks so. Guests inevitably comment on how warm and welcoming our home is. Here's a hint: it's not me. Linda has a way with decor, but I don't think it's the decor that attracts the people. It's her heart. That's what makes our house a home, a place I always want to come at the end of my day. I am grateful for it, but even more for the woman who makes it what it is.

The Rest of the Story

November 26, 2016

Years ago, Paul Harvey had a radio show called "The Rest of the Story," where he told the behind the scenes stories of famous people and events, always ending with his signature, "And now you know...the REST of the story!" It was from that era that today's story begins with a recounting of how the romance between a certain Linda and James began. We were students at Houghton college, which sponsored its Artist Series in which we were exposed to high culture with philharmonics, operas, and ballet. It was to the latter that I invited Linda to our very first date. It was Wagner's Tristan and Isolde, and at intermission as we stood on the steps of Wesley Auditorium, I asked her how she was enjoying it so far. She smiled at me, and assured me that it was the most wonderful thing she had ever experienced.

She lied.

This was a woman on a mission-she was determined to win my love, and was not about to jeopardize it by telling me the truth. Fast forward forty seven years. Tonight she is giving me an early Christmas gift, treating me to Tschaikovsky's Nutcracker at Shea's in Buffalo. She isn't trying to win my love, but is demonstrating hers. Her taste in music hasn't changed in all those intervening years, but her love has remained the same, except for having grown deeper. Normally, a lie is not something for which to give thanks, but I am grateful tonight for that lie that took us down a winding path to tonight.

Losing It

November 25, 2016

I must be losing it. Well, actually, I did. I had a Christmas gift for Linda put away, but today when I thought I'd retrieve and wrap it, I couldn't find where I put it. I've looked everywhere I can think of, to no avail. I still have time to locate it, but not knowing where to look makes it a bit difficult. I want to find it for two reasons: I paid good money for it, and it's for Linda. The Bible tells how God looks for us. I wonder if his motive is similar to mine: He paid a good price for us, and he searches because he loves us even more than I love Linda, which is a lot.

I'll keep looking for that elusive gift, and God keeps looking for his lost children. He paid the price of his Son's blood for us, and isn't about to quit looking till he finds what is lost. I hope to do the same, but I'm not as good at looking for lost things as God is. But losing something I've paid for is a reminder of greater things for which to give thanks tonight.

94 Years of Blessing

November 24, 2016

Last year about this time, my then 93 year old mother and I had a little conversation that went something like this:

Me: I've been limping around with this darned plantar fasciitis. How about you, mom? How are you doing? Does anything hurt?

Mom (after pondering a moment): No...nothing hurts.

Me: You're kidding me! I wish I could say that.

Mom: The doctor says I have a bad valve, but with these new, non-invasive surgeries, he can fix it. I asked him what that meant.

Me: So what did he say?

Mom: If I didn't have the surgery, I probably have less than a year to live. If I had the surgery, he could pretty well guarantee me another five or six years. I told him, "I can hardly see to read, I can't taste my food, I can't hear, and have trouble getting around. Why would I want five or six more years of that?"

Me: So you aren't going to have the surgery?

Mom: Nope.

That conversation was more than a year ago, and today for Thanksgiving, Linda and I drove to Churchville where she lives with my brother and sister in law. We had a wonderful dinner with her, my brother and sister in law, one of their sons with his wife and children, my sister, and one of her daughters, son in law, and their kids. Mom is mentally as sharp as ever, and for someone who can't taste her food, did pretty well with the turkey and all the trimmings. Usually we are pretty upset when the doctor gets a diagnosis wrong, but not this time. Next week, we'll go back to celebrate the Bailey Christmas. Our kids and grandkids will join us, and we will again give thanks for the 94 years mom has blessed this earth.