The Grace of a Day

I had the privilege of getting to attend the Southern Baptist Convention in Baltimore, Maryland last week, and from there my family and I traveled to New York City. We returned home early Tuesday morning, and began making preparations to return to normal life. We were greeted by the excited meowing of our cat, Gandalf, as we entered the house. He then proceeded to pester me for attention.

We got Gandalf when he was a kitten. Although he was several weeks old, he hadn’t had much human contact and had a bit of a wild streak. In order to tame him, I would hold him for long periods of time. This level of attention forged a bond between him and me that he never outgrew. Anytime we would go away for an extended period, I was certain to find him happy to see me and desperate for my attention.

I could always count on him to stalk me for days (often weeks) after every trip. If I sat down, he would sit near me (or on me). If I got up and went to the next room, he would follow me. He would lay by me when I went to bed, and get up when I got up. If I was able to escape his constant presence, he would begin to meow in a deep, mournful way that seemed to say, “Where are you? I’m lonely.”

Over the course of the last twelve years, this pattern had been repeated on numerous occasions. Gandalf was most affectionate the days following a return from an absence. There would be days of nudging and nuzzling and stalking. During a normal day, it wouldn’t be unusual for Gandalf to rub his face against my hand or leg once or twice. Experts say this behavior is a cat’s way of marking the object they are rubbing as their own. Yet in the days after I had returned from a trip, he would rub against me countless times. I always understood it to mean, “Mine! Mine! Mine! Now you can’t leave again.”

Although we had affection for one another, we didn’t always get along. Gandalf was, after all, a cat. He wanted attention when he wanted it. He bit me on more than one occasion because my feet crowded “his space” on my bed. Gandalf didn’t meow much on a normal day, unless he wanted food or snacks. But when he did meow, he just wouldn’t quit. I never enjoyed his nagging.

When we returned home Tuesday, nothing surprised me about Gandalf’s behavior. The noise, the stalking, the rubbing—it was all normal. He even kept with tradition and pestered me to pet him while I was trying to go to sleep (which I obliged because I was, after all, happy to see him too). When I got ready to leave for work Wednesday morning, there he was meowing in my shadow as he traced my steps from room to room. As I closed the door, I imagined he would pass the long day napping as he awaited our return.

We returned home from church a little later than usual. Sophia sprang into the house as I opened the door blazing past a sleeping Gandalf. But something wasn’t quite right. He didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. He was still as a stone. And I knew. I hoped I was wrong, but I knew. He was gone. His body was cold and stiff to the touch. Gone. Just gone. No notice, no warning. As full of life and energy as a 12 year-old cat can be in the morning, and 12 hours later he was gone.

As I reflected on our time together, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Why now?” Why couldn’t he have lasted a little longer? But as I thought about it, I realized God had given me (and Gandalf) a day. A day to renew our affections. A day to share. Had I realized that Tuesday would be our last day together, a weary traveler would have found obsessed cat’s nagging less annoying. I would have lingered a little longer while scratching him behind the ears. And in that realization, I knew the grace of a day. Reflecting on that day, I have learned a few things:

1. Time is short. People (almost) always assume they have more time. We plan for futures we are not promised.

2. Make the most of every day. Yesterday is gone. We might be left with good memories or regrets, but we can’t change the past. Tomorrow isn’t promised. Live today like it is the most important day of your life.

3. There is no shame in crying. Whether tears of joy or tears of sorrow, there is no shame in shedding tears.

4. Enjoy it while it lasts. The circumstances of our lives are always changing. The old saying warns, “Don’t blink or you might miss it.”  I was reminded by a man recently to make the most of Sophia’s childhood, because it would pass before I realized it.

5. God’s grace is sufficient for all our needs. Whether we are dealing with loss—of a family pet, a family member, a job, etc., He is enough. He is even enough when we are dealing with the outpouring of his favor. If our hopes and fears are anchored in Christ, we have more than we can ever need.

 

Finding Life

What is your life? That is the question at the heart of James 4:13-17. James was addressing a group of people who had lost sight of God's role in their life. They were making plans without seeking the will of the Lord, and James sought to correct them. No, the Lord is your life--its source, its end.

James reminds us of the temporary nature of life. We are but a mist that rises and is gone. Time can get away from us quick if we are not careful. We need to be mindful of the time we have and invest it well.

The best way to make the most of our time is to entrust our lives to the Lord. We need to seek the plans he has for us and be prepared to do that which he calls us.

As followers of Christ, we are to do what is right. If we fail to do the things we know we should do, then we sin against God. Making the most of our time means that we do the right things, not just the things that feel right.

It is foolish to live our lives outside of the will of God. Life in Christ is the only life that will last. Jesus is the source of life here and in the age to come. Never lose sight of that truth.

The Seasons of Faith

The cool somber gray of autumn has started to descend. The damp morning air clings to body and soul. Once proud leaves droop as greens fade to orange, yellow, red, and eventually, brown. The gentle breeze no longer offers its sweet relief, but sterner warnings of winter's coming. Things are changing, always changing.

Life, like the world it lives in, is always changing. Seasons come and seasons go. The seasons are life are no different. Some have equated the developmental stages of life to seasons: birth (spring), youth (summer), middle age (autumn), old age and death (winter). Yet even in those stages of life we go through cycles of seasons.

In my experience, spiritual life has its cycles of seasons. It's rare to move to the renewal of spring without going through the "death" of winter. Think of it this way: when we come to faith in Christ we are in the "spring" of our faith. Life is new and eager, yet not fully matured. With the passing of time and testing of the individual, they blossom into the maturity. In the summer of faith, life grows and matures. The autumn of faith is harvest time. Even as the believer experiences productivity, things begin to slow down. Winter, then, is a time when things cool off.

In this analogy, spiritual winter is not death. Like actual winter, it is more of a time of hibernation. Spiritual passions cool. Growth appears nonexistent. However, life is below the surface awaiting the right moment to ignite renewal.

Maybe you have just come through a particularly difficult spiritual summer. Maybe you feel withered under the hot sun of persecution or tribulation. You have prematurely browned into the autumn of faith. You are tired and uncertain.

What do you do? You endure. This, too, will pass. The seasons of faith are not like the seasons of the year. They don't have regular time periods. They can be cycled through rapidly, like in a time lapse video, or they may stretch out over the course of years.

The Lord renews those who wait upon him. Isaiah said, "But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint" (Isa. 40:31, NIV).

Lessons from a Funeral Procession

Where I grew up people pulled over when they passed a funeral procession. There was an unwritten rule about respecting the dead and contemplating mortality. I fear things are changing.

As a pastor, I have been in several funeral processions. I'm usually between the police escort and the hearse, so I get to watch as people approach the procession. For some, as soon as they see the hearse, they move to the side of the road and patiently wait for procession to pass them. Others, begrudgingly follow the example of the those drivers, and pull to the side of the road. Some try to creep passed the procession unnoticed. Today, I witnessed a car keep driving as if everything was normal. Maybe they had an emergency. Maybe they were talking on their phone and didn't notice the police lights and the hearse with its flashing lights or the dozen cars crawling up the road with their lights on. But the sight saddened me.

It saddened me because it demonstrated a lack of respect for life (and death). It saddened me to imagine that we live in a world so busy we don't have time to pause a few moments and contemplate the deeper things of life.

Just because things change, doesn't mean respect has to die. We can keep a tradition of respect alive and well. I hope you will pull over the next time you see a funeral procession. Here are somethings you can do while you wait for the procession to finish passing:

1. Thank God that you are alive and well. Even if you are battling a serious illness, you are not in a box headed for your final resting place. God has given you the grace of one more day.

2. Resolve to make the most of the life you have been given. None of us knows when it will be our turn to die, so make the most of every opportunity.

3. Remember those you have lost and the ways in which they impacted your life. 

4. Contemplate your mortality and make certain you are prepared to stand before your maker.

5. Pray for the family and friends of the person in the back of the hearse.

The simple truth is that even the longest funeral procession will be passed you in a matter of moments. Life as you know will resume, but a new life is dawning for those in the funeral procession. It is a life with a hole in it. Your moments of discomfort on the side of the road serves as a silent reminder that their loved one truly mattered. Your display of empathy will also remind them that life in this different world is possible.

Numbering Our Days

"LORD, reveal the end of my life and the number of my days.  Let me know how short-lived I am.  You, indeed, have made my days short in length, and my life span as nothing in Your sight.  Yes, every mortal man is only a vapor" (Ps. 39:4-5, HCSB).

"Teach us to number our days carefully so that we may develop wisdom in our hearts" (Ps. 90:12, HCSB).

Time is something most of us assume we have.  Under normal circumstances, we operate without a sense of urgency.  A sixteen year-old assumes that there is another fifty or sixty years to come.  A thirty-five year-old assumes that there is another thirty or forty years left.  A fifty year-old assumes there is another twenty or so years left.

The reality is that none of know when life will end.  All we really know is that life will end.  It might be different for humanity if they came out of the womb with an expiration date.  David  (Psalm 39) wanted to know his expiration date.  He wanted to know the number of his days so that he could squeezes the most out of them for the glory of God.  It seems he knew how prone people can be to assuming that time is on their side.  David didn't want to be lulled into a false sense of security, he wanted to make the days he had count.

Moses (Psalm 90) also wanted to know the best way to go about numbering the days.   Moses reasoned that the right numbering of our days leads to wisdom.  If we are going to walk in the way that pleases the Lord, without turning to the left or right, we need to focus on the end.  The end must always be in sight.

Living with the end in sight allows us to major on the majors.  It keeps us from chasing all the time consuming rabbits that devour the precious moments of our lives.  It teaches us to maximize every opportunity.

It is dangerous to drift through life thinking that we will never run out of time.  That kind of thinking keeps us from fleeing to Christ for salvation.  We assume there is time for us to "live a little," and then come to Christ.  We fail to see that today is the appointed today, and that tomorrow may never come. 

Thinking there will always be more time, keeps us from fully devoting ourselves to Christ once we have trusted him.  "Tomorrow, Jesus," we say, "I promise I'll get on that first thing in the morning."  Time is ticking away, but we don't seem to hear it. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.  How long before the trumpet sounds?  We don't know.

I'm not suggesting we mope around worried about the day of our death.  Rather, I am suggesting we live as if our days are numbered and as if we want them to count.  Are you counting your days?  Are you making your days count?

Keep Your Feet

In the movie, The Fellowship of the Ring, Bilbo is quoted as saying, "It's a dangerous business, going out your door. You step onto the road and if you don't keep your feet...there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."  Life is like just that way, it is easy to be swept away by the moods of a moment.

There are always destinations in life that are more necessary or more exciting.  There are place we would rather be.  It is easy to get distracted, and find yourself a thousand miles from where you intended to be.

The trick isn't staying in doors.  The trick is keeping your feet.  Determine where you are headed, and what needs to be done to get there.  You can't let wonderlust, boredom, or a sense of urgency, sweep you off the road you have determined to travel.

Sometimes, we miss a greater adventure, because we aren't engaged in the one we're on, we're dreaming about the one we're not.  Life presents a multitude of opportunities to grow and learn.  Experiences abound on every side.  It is just up to us to seize the moment, and enjoy where we are.

The next time you are tempted to veer off course, give thought to your feet.  Why are you on the path you are on?  Why do you want to change it?  Stay your course and move forward in the Lord.  Take your journey, don't let it take you.

Leave Them with Regret

"And he departed with no one's regret" (2 Chr. 21:20b).

These are chilling words.  How bad does a person have to be if no one regrets their death?  I realize that not regretting someone's death and rejoicing at their death are two different things, but I doubt that they are that different.

Jehoram, king of Judah, executed his brothers (and probably some of his cousins) when he ascended his throne (2 Chr. 21:4).  He followed "the way of the kings of Israel, as the house of Ahab had done" (2 Chr. 21:6).  He extended pagan worship throughout the kingdom of Judah, angering the Lord.

Because of Jehoram's great wickedness, God sent a plague on the people, he stirred up the anger of the Philistines against Judah, and struck Jehoram with an incurable disease of the bowels.  His death was slow and painful.  His power and wealth were diminished. In spite of all his pain and suffering, no one cared.

I can't imagine being such a horrible human being that no one grieved my passing.  I would like to believe that my death would be mourned by several (for one because they deemed it untimely, and two because they thought I was a descent fellow).  Of course, I don't really want find out who all would come to my funeral.

As I am thinking about this passage, it occurs to me that wisdom dictates that we choose the best course in which to walk.  Jehoram was very foolish. There was no reason for him to execute his brothers, to extend false worship, etc.  It also teaches me that a life devoted to ignoring God will not be remembered in the long run.

If you want to be remembered, don't devote yourself to self-veneration.  Labor for the glory of God and the good of your neighbor.  People always remember kind people. Live in such a way that you leave people with regret over your loss.

I'm Down with UP

Today, I watched the Pixar/Disney film, Up.  While there were several themes woven together throughout the movie, one really stuck out to me: life is the adventure.  Sometimes, we get caught up with wanting to see far away places, and doing amazing stuff.  We want to blaze trails, climb mountains, etc.  These far away places and amazing events dull the hues of every day life.

If you aren't familiar with the movie, it is about an old man, Carl, who ties thousands of helium-filled balloons to his house so he can travel to South America in order to keep a promise.  A young boy, Russell, accidentally stows away on the floating house and tries to help Carl fulfill his mission.  Although Russell is a "Wilderness Explorer" (think cub scout), he hasn't really had any experience exploring the wilderness.  Carl spent his lifetime loving his childhood sweetheart, and after losing her fears he failed her.  The life they loved so much seems incomplete with one of their (her) biggest dreams unfulfilled.

I spent much of my adolescence watching adventure movies, and yearning to taste some of that excitement.  Family vacations were never exciting because we weren't finding pirate treasure or capturing some notorious outlaws, or stopping the end of the world.  Yet, my parents tried to take us to far away places, and show us things we couldn't see in our world. (Thanks Dad and Mom for the effort, even thought we were usually [always] ungrateful and hateful).

Up reminded me that the life we live is the adventure.  Everyday we write another chapter, experience another caper, laugh and cry, grow and change.  Everyday is an adventure filled with many lessons and memories.   Some of our destinations are not exotic, but they're real.  Some of the events in our lives aren't exciting, but we experience them.

If we are always looking for the next adrenaline rush, we might just miss out on the amazing, albeit, humdrum adventure that is our life.  I'm not saying it is wrong to look for adventure.  What I am saying is don't miss the adventure around you, because it isn't as exciting as the "dream" adventure you want to go on someday.

In the movie, Russell reflects on the time he shared with his dad doing exciting stuff, and then explains how the ended their adventures by sitting on a bench eating ice cream and counting cars.  He says, "It may seem funny, but the boring parts are the ones I remember the most."  It wasn't really the boring things he remembered, it was the time he shared with someone he loved that he remembered.  In those simple moments of mutual love and bonding, a lasting impression was made.

By the grace of God, I have got to see parts of this world I never thought I would see.  I remember bits and pieces of each adventure, but they aren't the images that fill my mind night and day.  Everyday when I look at Delia, my lovely wife, my mind jumps back to our wedding day.  She was, and is, so beautiful.  Or when I hear Sophia laugh or call me Daddy, or when she holds my hand.  My heart is lifted.  I have stumbled into a treasure for which I would have never thought to look.

Although it may sound corny, I am living my greatest adventure. Each day we experience a lot of the same old things: love, laughter, tears, joy, sorrow, hope, trust, etc.  But it is still an adventure, and we pray for many years of adventure to come.  I pray that you, too, will be content to enjoy your adventure.  Life is an adventure, live it to the glory of God.