Month: May 2021

Quirky story

When I was pregnant with our children we did what all other parents do; we poured over baby name websites and books. We decided that the second name would be a family name but the first name would be one we liked. I never had the sense that the name mattered, beyond what we fancied. We needed to find a name we both liked (no small task).

Some people wait and watch their baby before deciding, feeling like the baby will look like a certain name. This never made sense to me. I was more of the “a rose by any other name would smell as sweet” philosophy. I was, however, amazed at how quickly the name took on significance as the new baby made his or her mark on our world. The name and the child soon became inseparable.

Maybe this philosophy of mine, is why I find this story from Luke a bit odd. This baby was destined to be John. Not the character and personality of John the baptist, but specifically John. I’m not sure why this matters. Why couldn’t he have been Zechariah like his dad? Or maybe Obidiah the baptist? OK, that would be awkward to say, but you get my point. In this case he was most definitely John.

It seems a strange story to include. Maybe I’m the only one who finds it strange, but well, there you are.

Luke 1: 57-66
When it was time for Elizabeth to have her baby, she gave birth to a son.
Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy,
and they shared her joy. On the eighth day they came to circumcise the child,
and they were going to name him after his father Zechariah,
but his mother spoke up and said, “No! He is to be called John.”

They said to her, “There is no one among your relatives who has that name.”

Then they made signs to his father, to find out what he would like to name the child. He asked for a writing tablet, and to everyone’s astonishment he wrote,
“His name is John.” Immediately his mouth was opened and his tongue set free,
and he began to speak, praising God. All the neighbors were filled with awe,
and throughout the hill country of Judea people were talking about all these things. Everyone who heard this wondered about it, asking,
“What then is this child going to be?” For the Lord’s hand was with him.

God is good

We have lived under the shadow of the theories written by Jean Jacque Rousseau, his ‘Tabula Rasa’ (Blank Slate). Rousseau believed that people were born ‘good’ and that they were conditioned to be evil. This view stood in opposition to the prevailing view at the time of Original Sin.

I have no interest in debating which of these theories is correct. I will not deny that circumstances do impact our development. But it’s also correct that every human is born with the forces of good and evil within their own souls. Maybe it’s too simple to adhere to one view or the other.

But I will take issue with the fruit that springs from Rousseau’s ideas. The concept that people are basically good. My generation was brought up on this. Trust the goodness in others. People are good at heart. In our society, yes this has been true. And in an general way we can say this. But…

There is behind this an idea that we are essentially good. That the goodness is found in our humanity. This idea hits us hardest when bad things happen to us. “Why is this happening to me? I am a good person.” Or we try to help those who are suffering, “Such a deserving case, they are such good people.”

This idea sits at the root of our struggle with not trying to earn our way to heaven. We know God’s gift is big. We understand Jesus died for us while we were still sinners. But, we’re pretty good too. God is going to reach out for us, cause we are the sort of good people he wants to save.

In addition, it can lead people to not see the need for God. We find justification in our own goodness and don’t look any further.

God is either lucky to have us, or we have no need for Him.

Sorry, this is wrong.

We are not enough. We are not good.

I don’t deserve grace. You don’t deserve grace. No one deserves grace.

But we’ve been given it any how. Not because we are good.

We have been given grace because God is good.

Matthew 19: 17 “Why do you ask me about what is good?” Jesus replied.
“There is only One who is good. If you want to enter life, keep the commandments.”

By grace alone

The little girl sat with her grandfather on the front porch of the old faded house. He rocked in the rocking chair while she sat on the step kicking at the dirt path that led to the house.

Why don’t we have what other people have Grandpa?” she asked. The young girl lived with her Grandparents and had since she was very young.

“Oh, what do you mean by that?” he asked as he rocked back and forth.

“The homes I pass when I walk to school, they are so large and have such beautiful lawns and cars,” she explained.

“Oh, I see,” he said rocking. “Well, when I was a boy I had to use that old outhouse behind the house. God saw fit that we have modern plumbing.”

“I don’t mean that, why does God give them big shiny things, and we just have the ordinary things?” she asked somewhat exasperated.

The old man was silent a long time. The young girl waited her face cast down as she waited for his answer. “I guess that is just the way life is.” She smirked downward not satisfied with the answer.

“Can you see through the door to where your Grandma is working in the kitchen?”‘ the old man asked.

“Yes.”

“What is on the wall behind your Grandma?”

“That old carving your father made,” she answered. “You told me he made it for you as a wedding present.

“Yes,” the old man smiled. “Such a touching gift. It’s my favourite thing in the world, beside you and your Grandma, of course,” chuckled the old man.

“What did my father so carefully carve for me?” he asked.

“Jesus on the cross,” she said.

“Ahhh,” said the old man. “Do you know why that old wooden cross is my greatest possession?”

“Cause your dad gave it to you and he’s dead now,” said the little girl.

“Yes, of course, but more than that.” The old man stopped rocking and put his head back and closed his eyes. “When my father gave it to me, he told me to remember that no matter what gifts and blessings I could gain on earth none of it will compare to the gift Jesus gave us.”

The little girl looked a bit puzzled.

“I may not have treasures here, but I have what I need. God has looked after us, look he brought us you, such a joy for your Grandma and me. But, he has saved the best gift of all. I believe Jesus died for me and all the glories of heaven will be mine one day.”

The little girl nodded. Not able to fully understand, but aware that somehow they were richer here in their little home than many of the people in their enormous mansions were.

The old man smiled as a tear rolled down his face.

James 1: 9 Believers in humble circumstances ought to take pride in their high position.

Why beauty?

For me, one of the biggest arguments against the materialist world view, is beauty. If everything on earth has a materialist purpose then why is there so much beauty?

Yes, they claim beautiful coloured flowers attract the insects and in doing so propagate themselves. Or a male birds beautiful plumage will ensure he is the one to mate. But much of the surrounding beauty is gratuitous. The flower could attract the insects by its bright colour, so why the lovely smell? Why the beautiful shape? The bird may attract a mate by his physical beauty, but why does the female have such a beautiful song in return? Or why are the eggs so perfect in shape and colour?

Why are you left with a sense of yearning and awe at the top of a mountain, as you view the great vista below?

If music has some materialistic role, why Mozart or Beethoven? Is that not overkill?

Or, is the beauty in art, music and nature a glimpse, a promise of what is to come?

There are times in this great and awe-inspiring world around us where we can see the shadow of heaven. A slice, a moment, a fleeting glance at something we don’t understand and yet yearn to achieve. An insight that gives us a glimpse of something that is more our real home than we know. If we could reach it, we would comprehend everything.

Beauty is a foretaste of heaven. God’s hand has placed reminders of his greatness. Our pursuit of the beautiful is an instinct that draws us closer to him.

Brother James’ Air (“The Lord’s My Shepherd”) – Words from Psalm 23 – YouTube

Turning over my anger

I saw a fellow today that has done work for Wes in the past. It has not been a good year for his business. He was smiling and happy to chat, but he was open about how difficult life has been. He said, “I’ve been through hard times before, but I can’t see us recovering from this one.”

My heart ached for him. I don’t think we’ve even scratched the surface of the economic hardship or the turmoil. For those of you who have been able to pivot and keep going, good for you. But many people haven’t been able to do that. This business of stop and go, stop and go economy has ruined them.

I feel helpless and angry.

But resentment doesn’t help. Anger doesn’t help. Anger and resentment only destroy. They don’t build. I don’t have within me the power to fix anything. I can’t make people see sense or heal the hurts of those around me.

But God can.

What I can do is give my anger to God. I can pray for this man and his family. I can pray for my neighbours. I can pray for my own hurts.

God is the answer.

Isaiah 35: 5 Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the
ears of the deaf unstopped.

Purpose

People are strange, to borrow a phrase from The Doors.

My dog doesn’t spend a lot of time trying to figure out what his purpose in life is, or finding the meaning in his world. He’s just a dog. He sleeps, goes on walks, chases birds, eats, poops, demands snuggles and then goes to sleep to wake up and do it all again. He’s always happy to see me. He always barks at other dogs. He never sits down and thinks, why would I greet that lady happily when she left me here all by myself? He never wonders why do I bark at that dog on the street? He just does stuff.

Humans are the ones who wonder. We are the ones that feel connected to something larger. We want motivation and purpose. Any amount of suffering is manageable if we understand the purpose. Pain without purpose is what we find difficult.

My dog doesn’t have a sense of purpose, but does this mean his life is without meaning? No! He has, in his own little way had an impact on our family. We consider him a gift from God.

When Wes was in the hospital, our dog was my constant companion. I took him everywhere, except the hospital. He was a stabilizing force. No human could have been more consistent or compassionate. He had a purpose. He distracted me, drew me outdoors, helped me keep life in perspective. All without talking, giving advice or judging me.

Perhaps, we also have a purpose of which we are unaware. Of course, we can find meaning in our relationships and our adventures. But maybe we have meaning beyond. A purpose that is part of a larger story. A purpose that will be clear one day when we reach the end of the story.

Question

“Why is the sky blue?” It’s the stereotypical question that children ask adults. The child asks this question in a naively curious way. They are trying to find a frame work in which they can understand the world.

Have you ever noticed that the way adults answer the question is more of a ‘how’ than a ‘why?’ “Why is the sky blue?” The adult will usually give some sciency answer about reflection and the atmosphere, blah blah. But that is actually a mechanical answer, that is more how than why. That is presuming the adult wasn’t a coward like me. My favourite answer was, “I don’t know, ask your father.”

Why is the sky blue? That is how God made it. Why is that not a better answer? It may not be as complicated, but without the motivation to create and shape the world there would not be a sky. I have no idea why God chose blue. One day I will be able to ask him or maybe it won’t be relevant anymore. Who knows?

Perhaps a renewed wonder and desire to seek answers from God would be a way to refresh my spirit. I can approach the ‘why’ questions I have in my own life in a more naive and curious way too.

Matthew 18: 2-5 He called a little child to him, and placed the child among them.
And he said: “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children,
you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes the lowly position of this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.
And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”

Middle

What does it feel like to be a person that the world has forgotten?

It feels like a child standing in a great crowd, unsure of whom to trust, or where to go. Surrounded by thousands but yet all alone.

It feels like a hiker half-way up the mountain side. Staring up in defeat at the hill yet to climb. But looking behind realizing he’s gone too far to give up.

It feels like a mother in the middle of the night, rocking her baby, desperate for sleep, but still protecting the sleep of others.

There is a profound loneliness in the middle.

At the start of a battle people come to help, anxious to see you through the fight. At the end, people will cheer you on, realizing you are close to victory. It’s the middle that is the problem. The middle is the hard slog through the muck. It’s not exciting or interesting. No one else can do this part for you. Step by step you plod through the middle, while the world goes on with their business.

The middle is lonely.

Psalm 25: 16 Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted.

Remember

I remember getting the seed catalogue. Pouring over its pages and dreaming about all the potential, while the snow lay thick on the ground. My thoughts catapulted to spring for a few short moments, while the pages lay open on my lap. I could forget the frozen world around me and recall that beneath it lay the promise of spring.

But I have other memories too. A long list. I store them and sort them, like the seed catalogue. I’m digging in my past for the promises buried there, like the bulbs below the layer of snow. The times God saw me through difficulty. When I felt helpless and he offered aid. Memories from the annals of my life.

There is enough there to give me courage, if I take time to read through them. Like the Seed catalogue this internal list offers hope as I sift through my memories. My past offering hope to my now, like a flower full with blooms in the summer.

I sit and I remember what God has done.

Psalm 77: 11 I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes,
I will remember your miracles of long ago.

Story

I see it in my mind. The image is saved in that special place where our treasures are stored. I can pull up the memory with little or no effort. When I am lonely or sad or in need of a friend, the memory is there.

The image is of an old woman, her white wispy hair pulled up in a bun. The younger woman barely an adult. They sit together over a cup of tea, always served in a china cup. The older woman shares her memories. Tells her stories. The young woman soaks in every word she can. She knows her Grandma won’t be with her forever.

The Grandma uses her stories to guide. But it’s deeper than that. The young woman doesn’t see her Grandma as a teacher, but as an ignition. She is braver, stronger and more determined because she absorbs her Grandmother’s story. The old woman tells of her triumphs and achievements. The young woman thinks, “She succeeded, so can I.” The old woman tells humorous tales. The young woman thinks, “I can also find the humour in life.” She tells of perseverance and trials. The young woman grabs onto her example and holds it tight for the future, when she will need it more than she ever imagines.

The old woman’s stories are like a lantern, guiding the young woman through her life. Her faith and Godliness a standard that the younger woman will work to emulate.

Our stories are alive. Live them. Share them.

Proverbs 31: 26 She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.