I always tell people that I have a sad anniversary, then I have a happy one.
Today’s the sad anniversary. It was 7 years ago today that I said my final goodbyes to my cat Lucy. It was a rough week leading up to that point, watching her get so sick and decline before my very eyes. I was one weepy wreck that week.
But then 9 days later, I’ll have a happy anniversary to celebrate where I went to the animal shelter and got chosen by a small kitten to be her forever human. And when I say she picked me instead of the other way around, I mean it.
This side of heaven is full of both joy and sorrow. Often, they coexist. Very rarely will you have moments of complete joy untinged by sadness. Even in the midst of grief, there can still be small windows where joy that breaks in.
And one thing I’ve learned in my life is that it’s okay to grieve a pet. They take up a part of your heart, and when they cross the rainbow bridge, they take that part of your heart with them. I don’t feel one bit sorry or embarrassed for crying over my cat who passed away.
One day, it won’t be sorroy and joy co-mingled. One day, there will be only joy. One day soon, I hope.
“And with the spring comes the thaw Melting my heart reviving all It comes full circle and then It’s summer solstice again” (Wayne Kirkpatrick).
I could have sworn that summer started tomorrow. It seems like June 21 is always the longest day of the year and the official start to summer (although the weather has been jumping the gun a bit lately with the heat and the humidity).
It’s always interesting to me that this particular summer equinox falls almost but not quite at the halfway point of the year. I’ve mentioned it before, but summer used to be my favorite season as a kid. Mainly that was because there was no school and basically no responsibilities for two months.
Now that I’m a fully mature adult (mostly), summer is basically just like every other season but with more sweating. I tend to be less and less a fan of super hot weather as I get older. I’m growing to love fall more and more.
But I appreciate that each season has its place. God made winter, spring, summer, and fall each with a purpose in the cycle of life. Each season has its own set of holidays (though fall has the best, even if you don’t count Christmas that technically falls in winter). After all, most of Advent season is in the fall.
Seasons remind us of the faithfulness of God. Just as summer follows spring, so will the promises of God come to pass. It will not always be summer or fall or winter, and you and I will not always be stuck in our own current season, whatever that may be. One season prepares us for the next.
So long as my air conditioning stays strong, I can survive this summer. Hopefully, I can take a few lessons with me into the fall season.
I have a confession. I did something that I’m not all that proud of. It wasn’t anything spectacularly dumb or bad, but it was a reminder that all my synapses don’t all fire at the same time sometimes.
I made my usual Wednesday afternoon trek over to the North Wind Manor to hang out with the other Rabbit Room enthusiasts. And for the uninformed, it’s a place where you can go to drink coffee, eat snacks, read books, have conversations, or just sit and think. It’s just like Elrond’s last homely house in Rivendell. Except I’m pretty sure napping is frowned upon.
So I got there and realized that I was the only one in the parking lot. I thought that was a bit odd, but still nothing too out of the ordinary or unusual. So I waited a bit.
Then I noticed that it seemed a bit dark inside the Manor, so I went and peeked through the window. No one inside, no lights on.
Then I remembered. Oh yeah, it’s Juneteenth. They’re closed.
Thankfully, my brain lapse only cost me 20 minutes of driving time and maybe 30 minutes of my day. Plus, I got a primo parking spot for the 5 minutes I was there.
So you see, kids, getting older and less mentally acute is what you get to look forward to when you’re my age. I think at this point, the transition to senility is going to be a fairly smooth one for me. Not a lot of adjustments, plus I already have practice at being feeble-minded.
It’s easy to be intimidated and discouraged by the size of the mountain, isn’t it? Real mountains can be a pain, but those metaphorical mountains can seem impossible to overcome.
I was reading recently about Mount Everest and all those who have attempted the climb and died in the effort. They thought they were smart enough, strong enough, tough enough, etc., but the mountain proved to be too much.
Some obstacles in your life can seem like that. When you look ahead, all you can see is that mountain in the way. There’s no way around it or under it or over it. The thought of climbing it fills your heart with dread and fear.
But remember that every mountain has a maker. Jesus said that if we had enough faith, we could say to the mountain, be cast into the sea and it would obey. Basically, Jesus said that it’s not big faith that gets past the mountain but faith in a big God.
So don’t look at the mountain, but cast your eyes on the One who can move that mountain. Talk to the One who has already overcome all of death, hell, and the grave. What is it that you’re facing that is stronger than what Jesus has already overcome?
Mountains are scary, but remember that the taller the mountain, the better the testimony at the end.
I found out today that Joe Elmore passed away. He was the host of a program called Tennessee Crossroads, a show that covered interesting tourist attractions and restaurants across Tennessee. But to me, he was more than just a host. He was like that friendly uncle who everyone was always glad to see on Thanksgiving and Christmas.
He brought a homespun warmth to the segments that made me want to go to different parts of the state and try out new places to eat or visit a landmark I’d never heard of before. I can’t imagine getting to travel around and see a variety of places (and get paid to do it).
I’m sure the program will carry on, but it won’t be the same. To me, he was Tennessee Crossroads. Someone else will probably step in and do just fine, but it will be like going to your favorite restaurant and ordering your favorite dish only to find out they tweaked it a little and it’s not quite the same.
At least we have all the classic episodes.
Thanks, Joe, for all the great programs and all the great memories.
“Christian maturity is the distance between God’s call and your capacity for obedience” (from the Growing Deeper class this morning).
I’m reminded of something my pastor once said during a sermon. He stated that you can’t wait until you confirm the call of God on your life to start getting reading. You have to be ready. You have to develop a life of disciplines before God calls you.
I believe that maturity look a lot like leaning on the Lord. It’s a declaration of dependence that acknowledges the words of Jesus in John 15:5: “Apart from Me, you can do nothing.”
I can’t expect to recognize the voice of God if I never spend time with Him. If I rush through my prayers and Bible reading, how can I learn to discern when the Shepherd is speaking? If my prayer life is spiritual version of my Amazon wish list, I leave no room for God to respond.
Sometimes, I think the best prayers are ones where I’m silent in the presence of God, not bringing any petitions or requests or even thanksgiving, but simply sitting at the feet of Jesus for as long as it takes to come to a place of calm where I can hear Him speaking. Sadly, I’m often too busy or impatient to wait that long.
I’m also learning that it’s better to read less Bible and ruminate on it more. I tend to speed read for information instead of prayerfully meditating on what I read and turning it into a prayer. Also, it’s easy to leave the words on the page and not put them into action. Then nothing changes.
But thankfully God is more patient than I am. He still speaks when I’m less inclined to listen. He has more time for me than I have for Him. And I believe He’s making me more like Him even on those days when I don’t act very much like Him.
Lord, speak to me and all your servants, for we are listening.
As the classic worship song goes, “I am who You say I am.”
That’s the only opinion that matters. Not the world’s, not my family’s (although they pretty much like me pretty much all the time), not my friend’s, not even mine. Only God.
The One who knows the most about me and who has the most right to criticize or condemn me is the One who calls me beloved and chosen and forgiven.
“Our prayers for guidance (or for anything else) really begin here: I trust him. This requires abandonment. We are no longer saying, ‘If I trust him, he’ll give me such and such,’ but ‘I trust him. Let him give me or withhold from me what he chooses” (Elisabeth Elliot, God’s Guidance: A Slow & Certain Light).
That’s where surrender leads us. We come to the point where it’s not “I’ll follow You if” or “Your will be done unless” or “I give You my life as long as You.” Surrender means no ifs or buts. There can be no strings attached to the genuine petition of “Thy will be done.”
At the heart of it is this: do I trust that God is truly good. Do I believe that God’s glory is my greatest good or is there something else that God might be withholding from me that’s better? Is God enough? Can I still worship in the face of silence?
One of my favorite songs from recent years is by MercyMe. It says that I will follow no matter what:
“I know You’re able and I know You can Save through the fire with Your mighty hand But even if You don’t My hope is You alone I know the sorrow, and I know the hurt Would all go away if You’d just say the word But even if You don’t My hope is You alone” (Bart Millard / Ben Glover / Crystal Lewis / David Garcia / Tim Timmons)
“… just slipping a note to those in the thick of it who really need to know right now how this all works out, how today ends, how this week ends, how this whole shebang ends:
SPOILER: GOD WINS” (Ann Voskamp).
“No doubt about it! God is good— good to good people, good to the good-hearted. But I nearly missed it, missed seeing his goodness. I was looking the other way, looking up to the people At the top, envying the wicked who have it made, Who have nothing to worry about, not a care in the whole wide world.
Pretentious with arrogance, they wear the latest fashions in violence, Pampered and overfed, decked out in silk bows of silliness. They jeer, using words to kill; they bully their way with words. They’re full of hot air, loudmouths disturbing the peace. People actually listen to them—can you believe it? Like thirsty puppies, they lap up their words.
What’s going on here? Is God out to lunch? Nobody’s tending the store. The wicked get by with everything; they have it made, piling up riches. I’ve been stupid to play by the rules; what has it gotten me? A long run of bad luck, that’s what— a slap in the face every time I walk out the door.
If I’d have given in and talked like this, I would have betrayed your dear children. Still, when I tried to figure it out, all I got was a splitting headache . . . Until I entered the sanctuary of God. Then I saw the whole picture: The slippery road you’ve put them on, with a final crash in a ditch of delusions. In the blink of an eye, disaster! A blind curve in the dark, and—nightmare! We wake up and rub our eyes. . . . Nothing. There’s nothing to them. And there never was” (Psalm 73:1-20, The Message).
It’s easy to lose sight of the end when you’re stuck in the middle. When evil seems to rule the day, it’s hard to believe that God can ever set things right. It’s tempting to fall into a cynical view of “Well, that’s it. We’re done for. There’s no hope left.”
But just as Billy Graham said, I’ve read the last page of the Bible and I know it’s going to be fine in the end. Actually, more than just fine. It will be better than the happiest ending in the best book you’ve ever read. It will be like in the last book in the Narnia series where all that happened before was merely the title page and prologue, but heaven is where the real story starts and where each chapter is better than the one before.
The Bible says for those who are in Christ that whatever the worst that we can face is light and momentary compared to the joy that’s coming. Read that again. The absolute worst we can imagine ever facing is light and momentary compared to the joy that awaits.
Not that what we face isn’t very real and very scary and very awful. But the joy ahead is infinitely greater and longer and lasting. It will be like the joy of a new mother holding her child after the pain of delivery, knowing it was way more than worth it.
It will be way more than worth it when we get there.
I love stories like this one. The man basically paid a penny for something that ended up being practically priceless. The reason the card is so valuable is because it’s extremely rare, especially in near mint condition. Also, the fact that I collected baseball cards back in the day makes it mean more to me.
I’ve always dreamed of something like that. I’d love to walk into a thrift store and find a rare record or piece of artwork. I did find an autographed first edition copy of Gregg Allman’s autobiography, though I very much doubt it’s worth anything close to $25 million. Still, it makes for a cool story to tell.
I’m reminded of what my pastor said a long time ago. He said that when you doubt your worth, remember who you are and Whose you are. Remember who made you. If God could flip you upside down and somehow show you His signature on you, then you would know how valuable you are. Not worthless but priceless.
Not only do you have value from God’s creation of you, but also because Jesus paid the highest possible price to redeem you. It wasn’t from anything the world values. It wasn’t your good looks or your fat bank account or your skinny body. It wasn’t because of what a wonderful human being you are. In fact, the Bible says that while we were yet sinners and enemies of God, Christ died for us. Not from any intrinsic value in and of ourselves but from the value God placed on us of bearing the image of God. Basically, it was God’s good pleasure to love us and to die for us to redeem us.
So remember your value on those days when you feel less than. It’s not your job title or your bank account or the letters after your name. It’s what God says about you and what He did for you on the cross. That’s your worth.
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