Another Sunday Come and Gone

It was a very pleasant Sunday. No, it wasn’t what I think of as an idyllic Autumn day in October, but it was good enough for me.

The fact that I woke up this morning trumps a lot of little negatives. Being alive makes every day a great one. Waking up each day is a privilege and a gift that too many take for granted until you lose someone close to you.

Today, I was in charge of the slides for the worship songs and sermon notes for The Church at Avenue South. I’m always nervous when it’s my turn, but I always get through it. I try to make it my spiritual act of worship and hope that I will do a good enough job so that no one will notice. That means that the service goes smoothly, in case you’re wondering.

I love to sit at the back and hear so many voices joined in collective worship. It’s one of the most beautiful sounds that rises like incense in the ears of Almighty God.

Blessings are found by those who are paying attention and not constantly looking down at their smart phones. It all starts with the right perspective.

So it was a good Sunday. Was it a little warmer than I like it for October? Perhaps. Still, it’s a lot better than sweating through 95 degree heat with ridiculous humidity. See? It’s all a matter of perspective.

I’m still hoping for more crisp days with temps in the mid-60’s. I can’t wait for opportunities to wear flannel and stand in front of bonfires with hot dogs and s’mores. Still, I take what I can get as long as God gives me more days to be alive.

Hey, even Mondays can be good if you have the right outlook.

 

Something Completely Borrowed

I’ve loved this story ever since I first read it a few years back and thought I’d share it with you in its entirety:

“Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.

One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.

His bed was next to the room’s only window.

The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end.

They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on vacation..

Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and colour of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite detail, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by.

Although the other man could not hear the band – he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with descriptive words.

Days, weeks and months passed. One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.

She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window. The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window besides the bed.

It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this window.

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.

She said, ‘Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.’

Epilogue: There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled. If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can’t buy. ‘Today is a gift, that is why it is called The Present .'”

My Prayer at 11:08 PM on a Friday Night

“I thank God for most this
amazing
day; for the leaping greenly
spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky;
and for everything
which is natural, which is
infinite, which is yes” (e. e. cummings)

On this Friday, I give thanks for the following:

  1. Fridays, which have never gotten old, even when I was unemployed. I can’t remember when Friday didn’t make me extremely happy.
  2. Another overcast Autumn day to remind me of why I love fall.
  3. An oversized mug of hot chocolate from The Well to remind me of why I love hot chocolate. Or anything at all from The Well. Or just hanging out at The Well in general.
  4. Geriatric cats that still curl up in my lap and fall asleep there (well, just the one geriatric cat named Lucy who would probably kill me in my sleep if she ever found out that I referred to her as geriatric).
  5. Doctor Who (particularly the episodes with David Tennant and Billie Piper). I’m late to the party, but I’m now officially a fan. And I still at some point would like to watch all the existing episodes, starting at the very beginning. Put that on my bucket list.
  6. Netflix on my iPad, which is way cooler than the portable TV I used to tote around back in the day when I thought I was the cat’s pajamas (again, don’t tell my cat Lucy I said that).
  7. A comfortable bed at the end of a long day.
  8. Not having to set the alarm for 5 am for tomorrow morning.
  9. God’s grace at the end of the day and God’s new mercies for the beginning of the next new day.

So what did we learn today? Gratitude still pays dividends. That and it’s a really good thing my cat Lucy doesn’t read my blog posts.

 

Bob Dylan, Ray Charles, and More Musical Magic

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Let it be known for the record that I was a Bob Dylan fan BEFORE he was a Nobel Prize recipient. I actually can’t remember when I became a fan, but it’s been at least ten years.

i geek out whenever I find one of his bootleg series albums at Grimey’s. I’m still buying CDs over vinyl because the former fits into my budget much better than the latter. Plus, I don’t really have a record player.

Periodically, I go back and revisit the older stuff, like Blonde on Blonde or The Times They Are A-Changin’, but my sentimental favorite is still Slow Train Coming, partly because of the Muscle Shoals sound he incorporated on it and partly because of the overt faith elements.

For my commute, I’ve embarked on Pure Genius: The Complete Atlantic Recordings 1952-1959. I’m in music heaven. You really get the sense that you’re sitting in on the birth of R & B (although true musical purists will probably disagree with me). What no one can deny is that this music holds up even 60 years later.

I’m eagerly awaiting the arrival of the new Timothy B Schmit album via snail mail, hopefully by sometime in 2016. I’ve heard snippets on the radio, and I really like the old-school 70’s vibe on it. Think a dash of Eagles with some Poco thrown in, plus elements of country rock, funk, soul, and everything else in there.

I hope to continue my classic country music trend in the days to come. I hope I make it to McKay’s to supplement my already ridiculous amount of music.

I do love music. I still think one of my favorite things is driving at twilight on an overcast fall day with the windows rolled down and the perfect song playing. It takes me to my inner happy place.

That covers my musical adventures for the month of October. More to come at some undetermined time in the future.

 

Hope Is a Revolutionary Patience

“I heard a preacher say recently that hope is a revolutionary patience; let me add that so is being a writer. Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don’t give up” (Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life).

Whatever it is that you’re waiting for, never lose hope. Don’t quit now.

Remember that in hope, what matter isn’t just what you get at the end, but what you become in the process of waiting. Sometimes, the enduring is what makes you ready to receive what it is that you’ve been hoping and waiting for.

So my word to you is this: keep waiting and hoping.

God will either grant you what you desire or give you something much bigger and better than your mind can yet conceive or comprehend.

I’ve learned in all my years of waiting that the best outcome is that you find that God Himself is enough, with or without whatever you hope to get in the waiting process. God is enough.

So don’t give up. Let God have His way in you and let hope flourish in you during the waiting. It will be worth it in the end.

“Jesus leads us into a place of radical grace where we are able to celebrate the hope of experiencing God’s glory. And that’s not all. We also celebrate in seasons of suffering because we know that when we suffer we develop endurance, which shapes our characters. When our characters are refined, we learn what it means to hope and anticipate God’s goodnessAnd hope will never fail to satisfy our deepest need because the Holy Spirit that was given to us has flooded our hearts with God’s love” (Romans 5:2-5, The Voice).

More Kairos Takeaways

Something Tyler McKenzie said at Kairos has been playing on repeat in my head ever since. Basically, he said that we should see people at the very least as those made in God’s image and those loved and died for by Jesus.

Even Donald Trump? Yes.

Even Hillary Clinton? Yes.

The same goes for your gay co-worker, your Muslim neighbor, your obnoxious uncle, or anyone else in your sphere of influence.

It’s much easier to hide behind a laptop and cast stones at those who offend us. While we may claim to be a society of grace, what we really are is a society of outrage that would rather spew dialogue than seek understanding.

It’s much harder to seek to love as Jesus did, even with those who crucified Him. It takes someone who has experienced God’s love for him or her in Jesus to even be able to come close to loving like that.

When you’re more concerned about being reconciled than being proven right, you’re on your way to that kind of love.

When you stop dehumanizing those who disagree with you and hold opposing views, you’re on your way to that kind of love.

For true racial and ethnic reconciliation to take place, it will take all of us seeing each other through God’s eyes. Will it be easy? Not hardly. Will it be worth it? Absolutely.

 

Monday Surprises

“Each day holds a surprise. But only if we expect it can we see, hear, or feel it when it comes to us. Let’s not be afraid to receive each day’s surprise, whether it comes to us as sorrow or as joy It will open a new place in our hearts, a place where we can welcome new friends and celebrate more fully our shared humanity” (Henri Nouwen).

Even Mondays can hold a few good surprises if you know where (and how) to look.

Life is like that. Some of the most memorable blessings often come in disguise and the best joys can come in the guise of heartbreak. Even the most mundane moments can contain the best surprises.

Here are a few of the surprises I encountered on this Monday, October 10, 2016.

  1. If I had to pick and ideal weather climate, I think I’d pick a place where the temperature and  wind and everything else was just like today. It was picture perfect.
  2. A friend of mine forsook our normal Starbucks meeting place in favor of some fantastic Thai food at Siam Pad Thai in Cool Springs. I can’t recommend their pad thai highly enough.
  3. We went for a walk as the sun was setting. I don’t know what it is about twilight and dusk, but they are my favorite part of the day, especially on crisp autumn days,
  4. One of my favorite simple pleasures is sitting in my Jeep with the windows rolled down at any time of year other than the hottest part of summer and the coldest part of winter.
  5. Even as an adult, nothing beats good chocolate milk. Well, very few things, anyway.
  6. Even now, I’m counting down the days to the start of Advent and all things Christmas, not forgetting Halloween and Thanksgiving (which too often gets the retail shaft but is one of my personal favorites).

The old hymn gets it right when it tells us to count our many blessings and name them one by one. It’s the counting of blessings which makes gratitude possible and it’s the naming of them that releases the joy.

I almost forgot one. Soft beds with warm covers to huddle under with the ceiling fan on high even in the dead of winter. That’s also one of my favorites.

Don’t Panic

“Don’t panic. I’m with you.
There’s no need to fear for I’m your God.
I’ll give you strength. I’ll help you.
I’ll hold you steady, keep a firm grip on you” (Isaiah 41:10).

There’s a wonderful series of books called The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, in which all sorts of sci-fi shenanigans occur and in which one electronic book features prominently, the book after which the series is named, On the cover in big friendly letters are the words “Don’t Panic!”

I think that’s very good advice for these uncertain days.

No matter which way you lean politically, the end is not nigh if the opposition wins. America is not done for if “they” win.

No matter how out of control you feel right now, despair will not have the last word.

No matter how much you avoid looking in the mirror because you detest the image looking back, those voices in your head will not have the last word.

God will have the last word. Jesus already had the last words when He cried out on the cross: “It is finished!”

For those who have clung to the cross as their last desperate hope, victory is the final word. Peace is the final word. Joy is the final word.

I have read the last word of the last page of the Great Story. It is Amen. The Bible ends with the promise that the final victory is for all those who will simply drop their pretenses and come.

That’s the invitation. Come to Jesus just as you are, not after you’ve cleaned yourself up and pulled yourself up by your own bootstraps and vastly improved your morality. Just come, you and your scars and regrets and shame. He will never cast out anyone who comes to Him in earnest faith.

 

 

Going Old-School

I’ve been on an old-school music kick lately, and the trend continued over the weekend. Among the music I had playing in the Jeep as I travelled were George Jones, Marty Robbins, Chet Atkins and Les Paul, Earl Scruggs, and Kris Kristofferson. That’s real country music.

I’m not opposed to new music. I’ve simply discovered that 99.9% of it doesn’t speak to my soul the way the old stuff does. Honestly, I really can’t find anyone who can emote heartbreak in a song the way George Jones did. Or sing cowboy songs the way Marty Robbins did.

Most people will be content to turn on the radio and go with whatever’s playing. That’s all fine and wonderful, but that’s not me. I’m a little more deliberate when it comes to my music.

As always, I’m open to suggestions about what I need to add to my musical playlist for my lengthy commutes. The older, the better. Also, I’m all for finding the artists that aren’t as well known.

Thanks again for reading these blog posts, even when they’re last minute, “couldn’t think of anything else to write about” posts. As I’ve mentioned before, it’s not always easy to come up with something fresh and original when you write these posts every day. Plus, you do know that my mind works in strange and mysterious ways.

 

 

State of Affairs

I’m offering up an additional candidate for President of the United States of America– my cat Lucy. I think she’s as qualified and fit to lead the country as either of the two major party candidates.

I continue to see how people are hypersensitive to the faults of the opposing candidate and equally blind to the faults of their own candidate. The other side can’t merely be wrong. They must also be stupid and evil. There can be no dialogue and no understanding between the two sides, according to this so-called logic.

I also continue to see how people justify character assassination and hate in the name of politics. After all, the other side really isn’t human, is it? They have no feelings with which to hurt, right?

Too many people still believe that there are political answers to spiritual questions and that laws and policies can fill the God-shaped hole in each of us.

Contrary to popular opinion, the world will not come to a screeching halt on November 9, regardless of who wins. As I’ve mentioned before, we are electing a President, not a Savior. That position remains filled and will be so long after last President leaves office.

Our battle as believers is still not against flesh and blood, against the liberals (or conservatives) and the Democrats (or Republicans). It is against spiritual forces in the heavenly places. That remains true.

So think before you take a jab at a candidate or those who support him or her. Remember that in the Kingdom of Heaven, love is the currency we spend and the language we speak. Hate does not become us.

By the way, my cat Lucy’s platform is More Naps for Everyone. It’s something I fully endorse. She’s much less high-maintenance than either Clinton or Trump, plus she’s much cheaper on the economy. Vote for Lucy.