Lina and the Tree

Dogs are curious creatures, they have their ways about them. This past Christmas season Lina formed an attachment to one of our Christmas trees - the Crystal Tree. In the evening, after dinner, she would go into the living room and lie down by the tree. She's been around this tree for years but had never shown any particular interest in it until this year.

"I really like this tree."

"I really really like this tree.."

"What happened to my tree? The top is gone!"

"Where is my tree? I miss it."

"This is NOT the same...I'm depressed."

Lead Back Thy Old Soul

If you could live life over again would you do anything differently? When I used to interview prospective managers I’d ask, “Tell me about two or three things that you would do differently if you could do them over again.” I asked the question because I wanted to know if the candidates were self-critical, whether they evaluated themselves. Over the years I received some very thoughtful answers, answers which demonstrated reflection and the capacity for self-critique. However, on a few occasions there were candidates who would not change anything in their lives, in their past, in their decisions and attitudes and actions. Perhaps some of these candidates were too insecure to admit mistakes, but I think some honestly could not find anything they could have done better - all of their decisions and actions had been, apparently, perfect.

I think there are times as we reflect on life, whether the past or the present, that all we can say is, “Here I am Lord, help me.” I find comfort in what the father of the demon-possessed boy said to Jesus in Matthew 17, “Lord I believe, help my unbelief.” Life can be a mixed mess, at least my life can be a mixed mess. As I have come to accept (not approve!) my own mixed mess life, the fact that at one and the same time I can have both faith and unbelief, I have become more understanding of others - I am able to give others much more room than in the past. I echo the final verse of Psalm 119, “I have gone astray like a lost sheep; seek Your servant, for I do not forget your commandments.” We see the contrast between our own lives and the Word of God; if the psalmist hadn't known God's commandments he would not have known he had gone astray. The thing is, when we are astray only our Good Shepherd can bring us back, only His Spirit and Word can draw us - the fact is we are pretty much incapable of taking care of ourselves, we just can’t “get it right”.

I am comforted to know that God can redeem our past as well as our present, that the Cross deals with every thought I’ve ever had, every word I’ve ever spoken, every deed I’ve ever performed - no matter how dark and selfish and evil. But I don’t want to dwell on the past, I want to live today, to worship God today, to be a blessing to others today. So today I ask God to teach me to love Him with all of my heart, and soul, and mind, and strength and to love my neighbor as myself. In my little sphere of life I ask God to make me a blessing, in Christ, to others.

The following are George MacDonald’s thoughts on some of the above, maybe there is something here you can relate to:

LORD, what I once had done with youthful might,

Had I been from the first true to the truth,

Grant me, now old, to do -

With better sight,

And humbler heart, if

Not the brain of youth;

So wilt thou, in thy

Gentleness and ruth,

Lead back thy old soul, by

The path of pain,

Round to his best -

Young eyes and heart and brain.

[ruth - a middle English word meaning a feeling of pity or sympathy in this context].

George MacDonald, A Book of Strife, in the Form of the Diary of an Old Soul, meditation for January 1.

George MacDonald - Ponderings

When I was a boy my mother read George MacDonald’s The Princess and the Goblin to me; it imprinted an image of “otherness” within me, giving me a sense of a world and dimension beyond my own little neighborhood and unpredictable family. That sense was likely the first tug on the rope of Divine grace and drawing. While we sporadically attended church, other than the occasional sense of God looking like Abraham Lincoln at the Lincoln Memorial in D.C., my impressions were more apt to be that of formality and propriety. If the statue of Lincoln was lifeless, so sadly my time at church was pretty much lifeless - other than, of course, the girls in Sunday school. I probably had more of a sense of the sacred in the library in Kensington, MD than I did in Kensington's Warner Memorial Presbyterian Church.

C.S. Lewis termed MacDonald “my master”. Writing of MacDonald Lewis says, “The Divine Sonship is the key-conception which unites all the different elements of his thought. I dare not say he is never in error, but to speak plainly I know hardly any other writer who seems to be closer, or more continually close, to the Spirit of Christ Himself.”

Lewis’s quote about MacDonald reminds me of Andrew Murray’s thinking about William Law when Murray published some of Law’s writing; Murray said in effect (I’m too lazy to look up the exact quote), “I know Law isn’t perfect, but I can’t find the quality of life and grace he transmits to others anywhere else.”

Here are some quotes from MacDonald and my ponderings on them:

Man finds it hard to get what he wants, because he does not want the best; God finds it hard to give, because He would give the best, and man will not take it. MacDonald.

God really does want the best for us, after all He sent His only begotten Son to die for us, to bear our sins, to suffer for us, to rise for us, and to come and knock at the door of our lives - asking us to let Him inside. The best for us is Jesus, it is an intimate relationship with our heavenly Father. We think the best is hitting the lottery. We think the best consists in “things”, in money, in recognition, in fame, in pleasure. God would not love us if He allowed us to settle for lesser things and experiences; He desires to prepare us for eternity. Now the question is whether we will allow God to prepare us to spend forever with Him or we will insist on preparing ourselves for eternity without Him.

You can't live on amusement. It is the froth on water - an inch deep and then the mud. MacDonald.

Pascal thought that the chief benefit of the rich was that they could pay for entertainment and therefore avoid thinking deeply about life and its meaning. In our age of television and other media, entertainment is now for the masses, and as Neil Postman wrote, we are “amusing ourselves to death.” We are a society that is dying from entertainment; whether sports or video games or music or movies or television or any number of other diversions, we are killing our hearts and minds and souls. We don’t need to go to the Colosseum for the Colosseum now comes to us. Even many churches are now more concerned about entertaining their attendees than tending to their souls. We have become used to the mud, we like it.

Age is not all decay; it is the ripening, the swelling, of the fresh life within, that withers and bursts the husk. MacDonald.

Some of us get old and die, others get old and live. It is never too late to start living, never too late to dig deep into God and to allow God to dig deep into you. When I was a child and we were taking a trip, like most kids I asked, “Are we there yet?” We can have that same sense of expectation as we advance in years, the same excitement when we are in a relationship with Jesus Christ, the One who conquered death and desires to give us new life in Himself. (See 2 Corinthians 5:1 - 10).

How strange this fear of death is! We are never frightened at a sunset. MacDonald.

Of course we seldom talk about death; we must think that if we don’t talk about it that it won’t happen, just like the child who thinks that if he covers his face with his hands and can’t see you, that you can’t see him. We talk about long-term health care but we don’t talk about what happens when we die and don’t need the health care. We may talk about burial versus cremation, but we don’t talk about what happens when we leave this body. If nothing happens, if death is the end - then why aren’t we planning going away parties? Why aren’t we living as if nothing really matters? (Yes, some of us do live that way, but thankfully most of us still don’t...not yet anyway).

God's thoughts, his will, his love, his judgments are all man's home. To think his thoughts, to choose his will, to love his loves, to judge his judgments, and thus to know that he is in us, is to be at home. MacDonald

Of course the sad thing is that when we are born, we are not born “at home.” We are born alienated from God (though there is a mystery with babies and young children that I don’t understand - other than that they are in the Father’s care). Jesus wants us to come home, just as the father of the Prodigal Son yearned for him to come home (Luke Chapter 15). Jesus’ words on the night of His betrayal  (John chapters 13 - 17) are about coming home - about us coming home to God and God coming home to us, within us. We are called to intimacy with the Divine, with the True and Living God. The Father desires to teach his sons and daughters His ways; to teach us His thoughts, His love. When we come to God in Christ we are made His friends. Abraham was called the friend of God. Jesus says to those who know Him that they are His friends (John Chapter 15). God calls us home, God calls us to friendship. Not too bad a thing, to wake up each morning with God as our friend.

Margaret (8)

I’ve been putting this one off. My first post about Margaret was when I came upon a photo of her and was taken back to her story. I wish you could have known her, in the midst of her physical and emotional pain she was reflective, considerate of others, kind. Her husband, Frank Jr., was appreciative of the town’s support and the church’s care for his family - support and care which continues to this day, years after his loss.

Margaret’s memorial service was standing-room only; there were extra chairs in the aisles but still some had to stand. In addition to Cat Mountain folk, there were medical people who had walked with Margaret through the cancer, as well as many business associates who traveled from D.C. and other areas. The service had a time in which people could share their thoughts and memories; there were many. The praise team played and we worshiped God, gave thanks for Margaret, and did our best to let her husband and children know that we loved Margaret and that we loved them.

In my message I shared about Margaret coming to know Jesus, what that means, and about Christ’s victory over death, His Resurrection, and His love for us. Of course I shared my own memories of Margaret, including how deeply she loved her husband and children. As much as I enjoy officiating at weddings, there is something about being with people during grief and loss that makes it a particularly sacred time for me, a humbling time - I am deeply aware of eternity and of God’s love for us in the midst of our sorrow.

Ah yes, my last visit to Margaret, I must write about that. Frank Jr. called me to tell me that things had taken a bad turn and that they didn’t know how long Margaret would live - I told him that I’d be right over. When I got there Frank Sr. opened the door and said, “She’s in her bedroom - Frank (his son) has gone to pick the kids up from school.”

During my drive to Frank and Margaret’s, I prayed and visualized seeing Margaret, just being with her, and trusting God to direct my words, prayers, actions. Opening the bedroom door I walked into a room without any light on and with the curtains drawn, it was dark, I could hardly see Margaret, hardly see the bed. I sat on a dining room chair positioned a couple of feet from the head of the bed. I sat without saying anything - Margaret was restless...after a few moments I softly said, “Margaret, it’s Bob Withers.”

“Get out! Get out! Get out! I don’t want to see you!” I was shocked, confused, taken aback.” I didn’t say anything; I quietly got up, left the room, closing the door.

Frank Sr. was in the hallway between the bedroom and the living room. He looked at me and said, “I told you that she wouldn't buy into your crap. I told you that she’d come to her senses.”

“Thanks Frank,” I said. “Please let Frank (his son) know I’ve been by.”

Instead of driving to my office I drove home. I needed to be by myself for a few minutes. I had not anticipated the experience; I wanted to help, to comfort, to just be there and not say anything, to just pray...anything but be told to “Get out, I don’t want to see you!”

Then there was Frank Senior’s satisfaction on seeing me leave the bedroom after only being there for a minute or two. His satisfaction at thinking that Margaret had come to her senses and rejected the “crap” he termed the love of Jesus. Those moments don’t quite have the edge that they once did, but they are still real - and I wonder why Frank Sr. derived such satisfaction from his perception that Margaret had rejected faith in Christ.

Well, as I described above, Margaret’s memorial service was poignant and holy. I knew that Margaret was so heavily medicated when I visited her that her actions and words didn’t represent the person I’d come to know. Do I wish my last visit had been different? Of course; but I’ve seen how medication can disorient a reasonably healthy person, and I know what it can do to those gravely ill. Some of us tolerate drugs better than others - I’ve watched people close to me react badly to medications and hallucinate - to the point where they would rather deal with the physical pain than the emotional and psychic distress and fright that comes with hallucinations. As I recall, Pope John Paul II wanted to die without drugs during his last illness - he wanted to know what was going on, he wanted to commune with God, he wanted to be an example to us all. Well, God is gracious to us wherever we are in our tolerance of pain; we all handle these things differently. We can be assured that our Father in heaven is kind and merciful to us and that He cares for us in our distress and sickness and weakness.

Our relationship with Frank Jr. and the children continued, and Fran, Margaret’s mother-in-law, started attending church with her son and grandchildren. I continued to see Frank Sr. from time to time about town, and was always cordial to him. Frank Jr. moved back to the D.C. area before the next school year, and after a few years remarried. Fran has become more and more involved in church life, attending an ALPHA course and then working as an ALPHA group leader.

We exchange Christmas cards with Frank Jr. with little notes updating one another - the kids seem to be doing well and their new mom is a blessing.

Margaret's photo will continue to remind me of a remarkable woman who came to know Jesus in the little town of Cat Mountain.

The World in Us, or Us in the World?

“Prosperity knits a man [or woman] to the World. He feels that he is ‘finding his place in it,’ while really it is finding its place in him. His increasing reputation, his widening circle of acquaintances, his sense of importance, the growing pressure of absorbing and agreeable work, build up in him a sense of being really at home on Earth.” C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters.

Susan Reese Carloss, reflecting on the above observes, “Prosperity and success can enable the world to take up residence in the center of our being. An abundance of things, wealth, renown: these can provide a false sense of security. Soon the heart is tempted and begins to lean toward these things for support and meaning. Stitch by stitch, a “knitting” is done, joining the person to the world, until it is no longer clear which possesses which. The world “finds its place” in us. Jesus reminds us that “where your treasure is, there will your heart be also” (Luke 12:34).”  Daily Readings from Spiritual Classics, Augsburg, page 25.

The quote from Lewis’s The Screwtape Letters are words Lewis puts in a letter from a senior devil to a junior devil in training. It is difficult for us to envision prosperity as being the devil’s work since we think that all prosperity must come from God. After all, prosperity looks so good and feels so good - what could be wrong with it? Sadly, we have the talent to take even the prosperity that God gives us and abuse it, make it our own, take credit for it, and turn that which God meant for good into something harmful - even evil. We can get drunk on money and fame and position just as we can on alcohol.

It doesn’t help that some in the professing church teach a “prosperity gospel”, seducing their hearers into viewing God as a Sugar Daddy, avoiding the Cross of Christ and the Christ of the Cross who says that we are to deny ourselves and take up our cross daily and follow him in self-denial. Much of the church views success as the world views success - by that measure Jesus Christ is a failure; He was executed, He died poor - not a good career. Oh yes, there is Easter isn’t there? Jesus lived and died for Easter, for the hope set before Him (Hebrews 11:1-11). What are we living and dying for?

As a dear friend has pointed out to me more than once, much of the church has bought into the prosperity gospel; you need not be overt about it, you just need to measure life by possessions, prestige, power, and accomplishment rather than by Jesus Christ and the Cross. Most of us are good at avoiding the Cross...myself included.

Where do we find our support and meaning? If we look to the world to validate us we will live life on a rollercoaster. If we look within ourselves for validation we are the equivalent of the lawyer who is party to a legal action and represents himself - we will have a fool for an attorney. Only the transcendent True and Living God can provide us with lasting identity and security - for after all, we came from Him, we were created in His image, and He loves us with an unfathomable love; now He desires to draw us into an intimate relationship with Himself through His Son Jesus.

If, of course, we are the products of time plus matter plus chance - then nothing matters, not if we are going to be logically consistent - because death ends it all and one day the entire solar system will die - we won’t just have a government shutdown, we’ll have a planetary and universal shutdown.

Who are we? Where have we come from? Where are we going?

Ponderings From Samuel Rutherford

Samuel Rutherford lived in Scotland a few hundred years ago, but his words still live today.

"Believe God's love and power more than you believe your own feelings and experiences. Your rock is Christ, and it is not the rock that ebbs and flows but the sea."

"Since He looked upon me, my heart is not my own. He hath run away to heaven with it."

"Why should I tremble at the plough of my Lord, that maketh deep furrows on my soul? I know He is no idle husbandman, He purposeth a crop."

"When I am in the cellar of affliction, I look for the Lord's choicest wines."

Safe

I read this today, it's by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik (1826 - 1887) - how many of us have had this experience? What does all the "stuff" in the world matter when compared to a safe relationship? A life without friendship is, I think, a life of poverty. "Stuff" cannot substitute for friendship. To have a safe friendship is to know  treasure in life; it is wealth, it is music, it it beauty - it is rare.

"Oh, the comfort— 

    the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person— 

    having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, 

    but pouring them all right out, 

    just as they are, 

    chaff and grain together; 

    certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, 

    keep what is worth keeping, 

    and then with the breath of kindness blow the rest away."

God's Word, the Plough

This was in our reading this morning; I thought worth sharing...nice word picture of the Word and plough. 

"No matter how much we might wish to change our own nature, any attempt that we make to change the harvest of sin will fail. All attempts at self-improvement, even if successful, will result in just that and no more: an improved self. God offers us not an improved self, but a new self: alive to God, alive to righteousness.

"We cannot transform ourselves, but Christ can form himself in us, giving his gifts of a new heart, a new creation.

"...God's Word is the plough that opens up the fields of our lives and lays them bare, exposing the roots of our sinful nature, removing the seeds of death, so that God may plant God's life in us."

Susan Reese Carloss, page 21 of Daily Readings from Spiritual Classics, Paul Ofstedal editor, Augsburg. 

Margaret (7)

When the end came it came quickly. It’s not a time I care to think about. We prayed and prayed for healing for Margaret, but she died. Healing and other miracles are mysteries to me, sometimes the fulness of the Kingdom invades life and we get a taste of our future resurrection, and sometimes we don’t. I do know that when we don’t pray that we are less likely to see healings than when we do pray. I think the Bible is pretty clear that we are to pray for healing and that gifts of healing are available for the Body of Christ - but I’ll leave it at that for now.

Margaret was with us through the ALPHA course and then another four months. My weekly visits continued; others brought meals to the family and made brief visits, the town of Cat Mountain did all it could to support Frank and Margaret and their family through this tragic and sad time. I have often thought that I’d like to die in Cat Mountain, for time after time I’ve seen the people of that little town gather around families in crisis with substantive support - it’s a place where people take care of each other. It isn’t that folks are perfect, but when there is a need they do their best to help.

I recall the time that Joan Ewing, a single mom, was injured in a car accident and out of work for seven months. Folks in the town put on fundraising events and even a town fair to raise money for living expenses and medical bills. That’s what I mean about people helping one another.

During my weekly visits to Margaret occasionally Frank Sr. would be there, for months no reference was made to our encounter in Winchester, but then, about a month before Margaret left us, during one of my visits he followed me out to the car and said, “Bob, like I said before, Margaret isn’t going to buy this religious trash, she is too smart for it. She may have attended your little course, she may have even gone to church a couple of times, and I don’t know what she tells you when you are with her, but I’m telling you that she will come to her senses and realize that what you are peddling is nothing but a crutch and that no thinking person can possibly believe it. If she doesn’t realize it now, she will before she dies. You are wasting your time.”

I couldn’t believe the tone of Frank Sr.’s voice, I couldn’t believe the look in his eyes; at least right then I couldn’t. Sure, I’ve encountered it from time to time, but seldom with the venom that came from Frank Sr. It was if his personal mission was to ensure that Margaret died opposing the Gospel, repudiating everything she’d come to believe over the past few months, rejecting the source of comfort she’d found, abandoning her hope.

When I was a young follower of Jesus Christ, a teenager, I saw the distinction between the way that Christ-followers die and the way that most other people die; I also saw the comfort that Christians have when they lose a loved one who knows Jesus. It isn’t that the separation caused by death isn’t painful - of course it is...but the love of Christ and the certainty of our being with Him transcends the pain, the loss, and becomes a presence with us as we walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. We don’t deny the reality of death or its grief, but nor do we consider it the end of the story, and in our trust in Christ and His love we allow Him to walk with us through the dark times, the times of sorrow, knowing that Easter comes after Good Friday - both in His life and in ours in Him.

I’ve lived long enough now to have experienced the loss of people whom I love dearly, I look forward to being again with those who know Christ - this is not wishful thinking, it isn’t some hocus pocus conjuring up of happy thoughts or positive thinking, it is a present reality in my life that is grounded in my relationship with Jesus Christ and in His Word. When I think of these dear ones I can look backward...and I also look forward.

What possesses someone like Frank Sr. to want to dash and destroy hope in others? Why would he want to rob his daugher-in-law of her newfound faith in Jesus Christ? Well, of course this happens all the time in institutions, whether in government or education or business, or even in churches - but to see it up close and personal...it is like it happened yesterday.

I still need to relate my last visit with Margaret….

38 Minutes

38 minutes doesn’t seem like a long time, less than a one-hour TV show. Less than my old commute to the office. Many of us waste at least 38 minutes everyday, waste in the sense that we don’t know where the minutes go. There are 1,440 minutes in a day, so that makes 38 minutes 2.64% of a day - not much, and in the context of a week or month or year...even less.

Of course I’m referring to the false message of an incoming missile sent to the people of Hawaii this past Saturday; for many of those people it was a terrifying 38 minutes. 38 minutes to call those you love, 38 minutes to do your best for your spouse and children. 38 minutes to do what you can for your pets. I wonder if anyone had regrets as he or she thought the end was near.

After it was broadcast that it was a false alert many people starting joking about the experience, black humor if you will. I wonder how many will stop and reflect and ask, “What if it had been real? What if Saturday had been my last day?”

I am reading The Sacred Year by Michael Yankoski. Yankoski got my attention when I read about his encounter with “carnival Christianity” - he was a speaker at popular “Christian” conferences, going with the high-energy flow, when he was confronted with a series of events that caused him to ask just what exactly he was doing, what was he involved in, just how shallow had he become.  I’m still working through the book, and while there are some things that are like fish bones to me, all in all I find Yankoski’s meal worth digesting; I’m sure I serve up my share of fish with bones.

I just finished a chapter in which Yankoski contemplates death during his sacred year. This is not morbid, it is sobering. To be sure he goes a bit further than I would in this contemplation, to be exact he goes 1,405 shovelfuls of dirt further than I would in contemplating death. You see Yankoski got permission from a cemetery to allow him to hand dig a grave and it took him six hours and 1,405 shovelfuls of dirt to do the job. Then he laid down in the grave and contemplated death...and life. That must have been quite a perspective.

Contemplating death, the brevity of life, is a spiritual discipline that has been practiced for ages - it is good to remind ourselves that we aren’t here forever, as a matter of fact, in cosmic terms, or even planetary terms, we’re like a breath of air, the dew on the grass - here...and then...gone. This need not be morbid, not to those who know the reality of God in Christ. It can be instructive, it can remind us to keep the Main Thing the main thing; it can remind us to make the most of each day in the way we love God and others. It can remind us that the rich person doesn’t take anymore with him or her into the grave than the pauper.

Of course there are people right now, as I am writing this and you are reading this, who wonder on a daily basis whether they and their children will live or die - whether because of disease, famine, war, or natural disaster.

What are we doing with our lives? How are we living? Do we know how much God in Christ loves us? Have we come into a relationship with Jesus Christ? Are we afraid of death?

What would you do if you knew you had 38 minutes left?

Valley of Vision Prayer - Holy Scriptures (1)

“O God of truth, I thank thee for the holy Scriptures, their precepts, promises, directions, light.

In them may I learn more of Christ, be enabled to retain his truth and have grace to follow it.

Help me to lift up the gates of my soul that he may come in and show me himself when I search the Scriptures, for I have no [lead] lines to fathom its depths, no wings to soar to its heights.

By his aid may I be enabled to explore all its truths, love them with all my heart, embrace them with all my power, engraft them into my life.”

The Valley of Vision, edited by Arthur Bennett, Banner of Truth Trust, page 346

I suppose we all get junk mail. Sometimes unrequested mail comes in the form of official government documents - from envelope to letterhead to bureaucratic-sounding language. Sometimes these deceitful envelopes and letters are so realistic that I wonder how many unwary people fall for these solicitation scams. I am so jaded by advertising deceit that at times I’m tempted to toss anything that remotely appears to be junk mail. However, more than once I’ve opened a nondescript envelope to find something important such as a new ATM card or a computer-generated check. There are times what looks important is a scam and what doesn’t look important is valuable.

Imagine a man or woman on the verge of losing his or her home, in the depths of fear and anxiety, going to the mailbox and sorting through the mail. Item after item appears to be either a collection letter or a solicitation - and item after item gets tossed without being opened. Six months later, our man (or woman) is living with friends, trying to get back on his feet, having lost his home. The future looks bleak, he has little hope, he is just trying to get through each day doing the best he can. He is in his office working when the receptionist walks to his door and tells him that he has a visitor. He gets up from his chair and walks down the hall to the lobby, fearful that the visitor is a bill collector who has the temerity to actually come to his job. He braces himself for a confrontation.

When he arrives at the lobby the receptionist points out a smartly-dressed woman sitting and looking at her smartphone. He tentatively walks over to her.

“Ms. Beckham? I am Al Jones, how can I help you?”

“I am sorry to bother you at work Mr. Jones, we’ve been trying to track you down and finally found you via Linkedin. I went by the last address we had for you but you’ve obviously moved. None of our letters have been answered and we’d really like to close the books on your uncle’s estate.”

“What?”

“Your great-uncle Walter Jones, your grandfather’s brother; he passed away eleven months ago. You know he had no children and after leaving a good portion of his estate to charity he bequeathed money and property to family members - he’s left you $265,000.00. We sent you a number of notifications over the past year but you have not responded. Do you have time for us to go over the details and arrange payment?”

“Sure, let’s go to my office.”

In his office, as Al watched Ms. Beckham remove papers from her portfolio, he recognized the letterhead on the documents, the same letterhead that had been on more than one envelope he had thought was junk mail and had thrown away at his former home.

We have a propensity to look for answers everywhere but in the one place where we can find the true answers - the Bible. We think that whatever is newer must be better. We think whatever is shiny must be more valuable. We think that whatever is popular must be what we need.

Do we not stop and consider that for ages men and women, rich and poor, powerful and humble, from myriad cultures, languages, and backgrounds have found treasure and fulfilment and their destiny in the Scriptures? Do we wonder how this can be?

Do we wonder why people and institutions and cultures are so hostile to the Bible? After all, if it is only a book what is there to be afraid of. If it has no power or influence why care whether it is read or not?

Sadly many of us have preconceived notions of the Bible fostered on us by those hostile to the idea that there is a God, that life is more than the “natural” world, that something is inherently wrong with us that needs healing (what the Bible teaches is the result of sin). These people assume the role of “expert” in denigrating the Bible and doing their best to discourage others from reading it, sometimes to the point of ridicule. These people would like you to throw God’s letter to you away as if it were junk mail.

As the above prayer excerpt demonstrates, the Scriptures are God’s communication to humanity, more than that, they are God’s self-disclosure to us; God reveals Himself to us - in one sense it is a “tell all” book. Of course, God does not just tell us about Himself, He tells us about ourselves. I am more excited about the Bible today than I have ever been, it is fresher to me today than it has ever been - I began reading the Bible in 1966 and I was excited about it then, but I am more excited now.

When the above prayer says “I have no lines [a reference to leadlines once used by ships to measure depth]  to to fathom its depths, no wings to soar to its heights,” I know that feeling - the vast expanse of the Bible is overwhelming, its vibrancy, its life, its wisdom, its hope, its joy...and the peace that we can find in a relationship with the true and living God. While God used others to lead me to Himself, it was through reading the Bible that I met Him; I have known others with the same experience.

The Bible is more than a book, and it certainly is not junk mail; it is supernatural, it speaks to our inner person, it gives us an eternal perspective, and it is where we touch God and are touched by Him, and it is where we can touch and be touched by one another.

Had Mr. Jones not thrown away the letter informing him of his inheritance his life would have been different.

Margaret (6)

I need not have wondered whether Margaret would be at the next ALPHA gathering, or the next, or the next, for despite her father-in-law’s attitude toward the Gospel Margaret was her own person and thanks to her neighbors, Shirley and Ralph, she was able to be at every ALPHA evening and attend our weekend retreat.

Margaret injected a special joy into our ALPHA dinners, telling funny stories about her family and herself. Whichever table she sat at in our church dining hall was the group whose laughter filled the room with energy - the rest of us wanted to be at Margaret’s table. Since Vickie often sat with Margaret I would ask her after the evening was over, “What was so funny?” and she’d tell me what Margaret had shared to get her group laughing until they cried.

As I mentioned before, after dinner and the night’s presentation, when we split into small groups, Margaret was focused on the needs of others...listening, asking questions, caring. As we explored ALPHA’s subject matter her questions about God and Jesus and the Bible were thoughtful - she was not “buying” anything she heard without carefully considering the evidence.

While Margaret never focused on herself, when asked how she was doing she would give us the latest on her cancer, and as the weeks passed we could see her growing weaker and weaker...yet every week she came to ALPHA. Occasionally she and Frank and the kids came to church, but it was difficult for her and Frank to get the children ready on Sunday mornings.

The week after my first visit I stopped by her home again, thus beginning a pattern of weekly visits, some longer, some shorter, depending on how Margaret was feeling. Frank was often home, working remotely, and Fran, Frank’s mom was usually there - when Fran wasn’t there Frank Sr. would greet me; he was always polite and no mention was made of our conversation in Winchester.

The first few ALPHA evenings centered around the following topics: Christianity: Boring, Untrue, and Irrelevant?; Who Is Jesus?; Why Did Jesus Die?; How Can I Be Sure of My Faith?; Why and How Should I Read the Bible?; Why and How Do I Pray?

A couple of days after we explored “Why and How Do I Pray?” I was visiting Margaret when she said, “Bob, I’ve come to know Jesus. I’m sitting with Him on the loveseat. I feel like He has been drawing me to Himself ever since I started ALPHA. I’ve asked Him to show Himself to me and He has. I’ve asked Him to forgive my sins and He has. I don’t want to die and leave Frank and my children, I really don’t want to die; but if I do die I know that I’ll be with Jesus...but I really don’t want to die.”

As I listened to Margaret I thought of my own mother who died when I was 17 years old; my brother Bill was 15, and my brother Jim was 12 - she left three children and it was likely that Margaret was going to leave three children (while I had not given up hope for healing - I had to face the situation as it was). I thought of other young mothers I’d known who left life all too early. I have wondered what my life might have been like if my mom had lived...perhaps I would have been more focused and stable in my early adult years, I would like to think so. I wonder what it would have been like for Mom to have known her grandchildren. I think of things I would like to talk to her about. I know so little about my mother’s childhood and her college years, how she met my father - actually I know next to nothing - I was too self-centered when she was alive to care about anyone but myself.

I listen to Margaret, and as I listen I silently pray for her and her family. My role is to be with them through this season of life; to listen, to pray, to share God’s love and grace, to hopefully help them come into a deep relationship with Jesus Christ. If we’re not accidents looking for a place to happen, if we aren’t the products of a cosmic roll of the dice, then this life is a prelude to beyond this life, and because of that this life matters - how we live matters, whether or not we are living in the life of God in Christ matters, the pathway we are on matters, knowing Jesus matters.

We are all going to die; some of us sooner and some of us later - the death rate on the planet is 100%. This isn’t morbid, this is common sense, it is reality. I just read of a study that found that people who had recently visited a cemetery were more likely to treat other people better than they usually do. There is value in realizing that we are all mortal, we can all be crushed by a car, die from pneumonia, or be killed in a freak accident - longevity is not guaranteed. We have a friend who, the Lord willing, will turn 100 years old in a couple of months; he is still active, tilling his garden, riding on the back of a jet ski, his mind is still agile - but he won’t live forever - this isn’t morbid, it’s the way it is because our DNA has been polluted by sin and death - we weren’t designed to die, we were designed to live. In Christ we have the promise and certainty of eternal life, of restoration to our eternal original destiny in God.

Why don’t people talk about the most important thing in life, why don’t we talk about God and life and death? We talk about graduating from school, about our jobs, our families, even politics, but we don’t talk about eternal matters. We are bombarded about planning for retirement and long-term care insurance; we have anxiety over Social Security...why aren’t we concerned about dying? Do we think that if we close our eyes it won’t happen?

Death for some people will be a graduation into the Kingdom of God and the Presence of Jesus Christ; for others death will be…

For the Glory - Eric Liddell

I just finished reading For the Glory - the Untold and Inspiring Story Eric Liddell, Hero of Chariots of Fire, by Duncan Hamilton. Since I borrowed this as an ebook from the library I haven’t highlighted passages to quote but I do want to share some thoughts about the biography.

The subtitle is right in that Liddell’s life is inspiring - well beyond what is portrayed in the movie, Chariots of Fire; it is also “untold” in terms of what the general population knows about Liddell, for what we know is typically confined to the movie.

Duncan has done his homework, both in archives and with personal interviews; this is evident throughout the biography as he reproduces excerpts from letters, newspapers, other documents, and from interviews. His compilation of sources further testifies that this is a well-researched book. Duncan inserts photographs throughout For the Glory, thus linking them to the subject matter of each chapter - I find this much more helpful than a dedicated section of photographs, usually in the middle of a book, which requires the reader to flip back and forth when reading to identify a photograph with the particular page he is reading.

This is a biography, taking the reader on a journey with Liddell from his birth in China to missionary parents, to his death in China in a Japanese prison camp. The events surrounding the Olympics are more dramatic than what is depicted in the movie, in which what, I suppose, we consider “artistic license” was taken.

In real life Liddell knew well before the games that qualifying races were to be held on a Sunday, as did the British Olympic Committee, and even though the Committee knew that Liddell did not compete on Sundays, and even though Liddell had made it clear that he would not run on Sundays in Paris, the Committee assumed that Liddell would do the practical thing, the thing that most everyone else would do, the thing that ego would drive most of us to do, the thing that any “patriotic” person would do - and run on Sunday at the Olympics.

Duncan brings the Olympics to life, indeed he brings Eric Liddell the athlete to life, but more importantly he brings Eric Liddell the person to life, for you cannot separate the person from the athlete, not at least with Eric Liddell. Liddell was a Christian and a gentleman first (not all “Christians” are gentlemen) - always gracious to those he competed against, always desiring to display sportsmanship in the best sense of the word - a sense we’ve pretty much lost today. Liddell did not look at the Olympics as an opportunity to display national one-upmanship, but as an opportunity for people to find common ground.

After the Olympics many people assumed  Liddell would cash in on his fame. They assumed he would compete in future Olympics (Duncan illustrates just how great, yes great, a runner Liddell was). However Liddell had made a commitment to complete his education in the UK and return to China as a missionary; China - a land in perpetual turmoil, a dangerous land, a land with an unknown future. Well-meaning people tried to get Liddell to delay his missionary commitment, they tried to convince him that he could do more good by staying in the UK; but Liddell was steadfast and unwavering.

The story of Eric Liddell after his Olympic gold dwarfs his story prior to, and including, the gold medal. In one sense the Olympics were a precursor of what was to come, Liddell would deny himself to do what he thought was right in the eyes of God, he would choose hardship if that was what obedience to God’s call required. It doesn’t appear as if Liddell ever looked for the easy way out, he was not seeking a life of ease and privilege - he was deliberately making hard self-denying decisions. In reading the book I found myself saying, “Can’t you take a break for a while and enjoy some rest?”

Duncan’s well-documented detailed descriptions bring Liddell’s life in China alive in color; his marriage, his family, his friends, and his final years in a prison camp...after having sent his wife and two daughters to Canada (his wife Florence was pregnant with a third daughter who would never see her father). The author is good enough to conclude our journey with Liddell by providing us with “the rest of the story” of his friends and family from after WWII into the present century. Duncan interviewed all three of Liddell’s daughters; Patricia, Heather, and Maureen; and gives us a poignant description of his time with Maureen, the daughter who never knew her Dad.

At times I was wondering if I was reading an uncritical hagiography, so distinct was Liddell’s life from my own, and from the current condition of the church in the West. The author himself wonders if he hasn’t placed Liddell on too high a pedestal and poses this question to those who knew Eric Liddell. As I pondered these questions, I was reminded of three things:

1. I have known people like Eric Liddell; George Will, Anna Nichols, the two Christian sisters who operated the Anchor Rescue Mission in San Francisco, Sister Mildred Norbeck of Intercession City, FL...there are such people, there are still such people...they are “other” than I am.

2. Up until my own lifetime, those involved in missions often exemplified the self-denial that Eric Liddell displayed, they were like the first responder who refuses to view himself or herself a hero, but rather “just doing my job”. This used to be the ethos of missionaries, and contrary to the caricature often portrayed in movies and novels, these men and women were giving their lives for others rather than setting themselves up as lords and masters. Yes, there have always been religious charlatans - Paul deals with them in his New Testament letters and we will always have them in this age, but let us not allow those people to rob us of the beauty of the sacrificial service displayed by countless men and women and children who gave their lives for Christ and others. Duncan shows us that Liddell was not alone in China in giving his life for others, and he also shows us that missionaries cared for the entire “person” in serving - spirit, soul, and body - people are people, they are not disembodied souls; mission service was holistic.

3. Jesus calls us to deny ourselves and take up our cross daily and follow Him (Mark Chapter 8) - just because my life might not exemplify this, just because the Western church has abandoned this ethos, does not mean that others have not lived it; it doesn’t mean that Eric and Florence Liddell did not live it - there is enough evidence to convict them of following Jesus.

One blemish I discerned in the book was Duncan’s tendency to lapse into mundane illustrations to make a point, often requiring the reader to know the contemporary (to our present time) person or event he references; this doesn’t happen often but when it does it is distracting...at least for me, it may not be an issue with you. He also interjects his own commentary on people and events, this doesn’t happen often but when it does he becomes almost a participant in the story. However, Duncan’s telling of Eric Liddell’s life far eclipses these (to me) irritants - it truly is an inspiring story, one that carried me over the authorial bumps in the road.

This is a compelling account of a remarkable life, a life of integrity and commitment and self-denial. I found myself in dialogue with Liddell throughout the book, for I often wanted him to make other choices, for example, I wanted him to leave China with his family. At other times my dialogue took the form of “I’m not sure I could do that,” “Could I have done that?” I did not agree with all of Liddell’s choices, but as Aslan would say, “That is his story that is not your story.” Maureen’s reflections on her Dad’s decision to remain in China gave me pause for reflection. Could I have had Maureen’s perspective? Could I have done what Liddell did?

There is one quote that I’ll share in closing, a quote that says it all. This quote is from Duncan and is a result of his numerous interviews with those who knew Liddell, including those in the prison camp with him. This is the answer Duncan received in the interviews when he asked those who knew Liddell if he, Duncan, was putting Eric Liddell on a pedestal:

“Eric Liddell changed the lives of those who were close to him.”