Eschew Obfuscation

This past Saturday Sharon and I had a yard sale to try to sell off many items of ours, but also of Anina’s.  Since her passing in April, Sharon has been going through Anina's closets and dressers and had finally gathered all the items that should be sold or given away.

On Saturday I parked our van out near a busy intersection with a sign that read, Yard Sale, 7-12.  It also had an arrow pointing toward our house.

When I was about to walk back from our van to the house a couple pulled up behind the van and wanted to know if the sale was next Saturday.  I told them it was today and sent them on toward the house.  Later in the morning someone else at the sale asked if we were holding it both that day and next Saturday. Finally it dawned on us that people were reading 7-12 not as the hours of the sale (which was our intent) but the date of the sale (which happens to be the date for next Saturday).

What a vivid reminder that communication is always a challenge.  We thought it was obvious that 7-12 indicated the hours of the sale (I did go back later and add AM and PM to try to make it clearer).  Why would you post a sign for a yard sale the following week?  Even those of us who like to plan ahead would not post signs a week ahead for a yard sale.  But what was so clear in our heads was not so clear on the poster.

In marriages and churches the challenge is the same.  What is so clear in our own heads fails to communicate when it is spoken or written.  Our experience last Saturday reminded me how careful we need to be in communicating clearly but also how often we fail to communicate what we mean and need to clarify.  Our challenge is both to be willing to give more information when it is obvious the person doesn’t understand and also the need for all of us to ask for clarification when we don’t understand in a way that doesn’t have an edge to it.  (Those of you who have painted or wallpapered or done remodeling with your spouse know what I’m talking about.)

Sharon and I have gotten better at this over the years but we still hit days or short seasons when it seems the other person must be talking a foreign language or they are simply not being clear.  And churches even more so.  Just go visit a new church and see how difficult it is to know what’s going on or who to contact or where things are.

It happens to all of us.  Let’s eschew obfuscation and be willing to ask for clarification with grace and be willing to offer clarification with grace.  The effort is worth in the long run.

Declaration of Dependence

A number of years ago as I approached the Fourth of July holiday I sat down to write my Declaration of Dependence.  Here is what resulted:

When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one person to dissolve the bands of the enemy, the devil, which have subtlely, but surely bound them together, it is important to declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

          
The devil has deceived me into believing that God does not know what is best for me, therefore I doubt and question God’s Word.

The devil has deceived me into believing that I can live without daily communion with my Savior.

The devil has deceived me into believing that my sin isn't really very bad when compared to others.

The devil has deceived me into believing that compromise on spiritual issues is necessary if I am going to get along in this world.

The devil has deceived me into believing that I should possess whatever I desire.

          I therefore, a child of God by faith in Jesus Christ do, in the name of the Almighty God, who loved me and gave himself for me, solemnly publish and declare that I am, and ought to be free of my allegiance to the devil, and dependent upon God for my daily life.    As a dependent child of God I am free to pray, read God’s Word, and fellowship with other Christians.  I will endeavor to exercise these freedoms, rather than take them for granted.    And for the support of this Declaration, with firm reliance on God, I pledge to my heavenly Father my Life, my Fortune, and my sacred Honor.

The Best Ever in the Whole Wide World

This morning as I was helping Abby, my three-year-old granddaughter, out of our van, she spontaneously said to me, “Papa, you are the best” [slight pause] “ever” [slightly longer pause] “in the whole wide world.”  I’m not sure what prompted this exclamation or what it was that made me the best or why it had taken her three years to notice this truth about me, but it did my heart good to be viewed as the “best ever in the whole wide world.”

I have been known to rail against the cultural phenomenon of awarding prizes, trophies and accolades to every student in the class simply because they are in the class and not because they actually did anything of note.  But I have to tell you, being given this epithet from Abby, not on the basis of a studied comparison of all other Papas but simply because I’m HER Papa was water for my soul.

Maybe there is something to be said for more freely giving the people around us a word of affirmation, even if we can’t quantify exactly what it is that makes them special to us and the world around them.  Sometimes just being part of our world is reason enough.

Forty Years—One Promise

[The following blog was originally written as a column in the Santa Margarita Community Church Communique on the occasion of Sharon and my twentieth wedding anniversary.  On June 8 Sharon and I will have doubled that number to forty.  I have done some minor edits, but this blog is essentially the same as it was twenty years ago except the number is now forty instead of twenty and my amazement at the mystery of marriage has grown exponentially.  My feelings about, understanding of and appreciation for marriage (and Sharon) are the same, only more so.]

Forty years ago this month a young man with long sideburns, wire-rimmed glasses and “flared” slacks stood next to a long-haired young woman holding a strawflower bouquet and made a promise to her that he fully intended to keep.  His bride also made a promise that she fully intended to keep.  The fear they felt was not only stage fright, it was also the audaciousness of the promise about to be made.  The promise contained four crucial commitments.

The promise contained a comprehensive commitment.  It was not some vague promise, but an inclusive, far-reaching promise.  It included not only our worth and goodness, it also included our weakness and sin.  It encompassed every aspect of who we were and who we would become.  It meant that everything of our individual lives was now blended into one life. The mystery of two, yet one, resulting in a pulling together in the same direction.  Antoine de Saint-Exupéry once wrote, “Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction.”

The promise contained a commitment with no conditions.  If conditions had been introduced into those promises, it would have been bound by time and circumstances.  “I do” is temporal.  It is limited to the moment.  “I will” is a statement without conditions and with no expiration date.  “I do” has an unspoken “so long as” clause attached.  So long as what?  So long as he is faithful to her?  So long as she doesn’t find a better relationship?  So long as we both get all our needs met by the other?  No relationship can stand the weight of these conditions.  By its very nature this promise had to be without conditions if the relationship was ever to be the safe place that would allow for growth as individuals and as a couple.

The promise contained a commitment of faith.  We had little idea who it was we were marrying or what we would be in six months, to say nothing of forty years.  The English poet, Samuel Rogers wrote, “It does not much matter whom one marries as one is sure to find the next morning it is someone else.”  Without faith in the promise, fear creeps in and whispers that the relationship was built on someone we were then, not who we are now.  Without guile we told ourselves (and each other) that we were different people than we actually were.  We put our best selves forward.  Now that our real selves have been revealed over the years, our real selves continue to remain faithful to the promise.

The promise contained a commitment to forgiveness.  Without this we would lack the most important tool for facing and healing the troubles that marriage would create between us.  We had no idea then what those troubles would be.  We have a much clearer idea now.  Nothing we brought to the marriage—feelings of love, good intentions, skill in communication—could heal hurts like forgiveness.  Forgiveness is the only tool that honestly names the hurt and provides the ability to heal.  It takes time.  It takes grace.  It takes the experience of God’s forgiveness.

The marriage promise was, and still is, the most important promise anyone can make.  As C.S. Lewis pointed out, “No one can promise to go on feeling a certain way.  He might as well promise never to have a headache or always to feel hungry.”  When that young couple made those promises, it wasn’t a promise to feel, it was a promise to be. Through all the good times and all the difficult times this promise has held us together. The promise didn't guarantee a successful marriage, but it create the rich soil in which the marriage might grow.  And it did.

I once wrote (and maybe borrowed from some uncredited author), “Long after the bouquets have dried and crumbled and the photo album has yellowed with age, this promise will be alive and well.”  It was true then.  It is true now.  If I had it to do all over again…I would.

Lesterday

Recently I was playing with my granddaughter, Raya.  I don’t remember what I was talking with her about but she said, “Lesterday, when I was little…”  Raya is four.

To Raya any event in life that happened before today happened "lesterday."  There are no distinctions made for last week, last month, last year.  Time has only three categories for Raya.  "Lesterday, today, and tomorrow.  She begins every day with a clean slate.  Tomorrow hasn't happened. "Lesterday" is gone.  She remembers some events from "lesterday," but they don't affect today.  She doesn't get stuck on what happened "lesterday."  Her focus is today.

In Isaiah God says, “I, I am he who blots out your transgressions for my own sake, and I will not remember your sins.” (Isaiah 43:25 ESV)

God cannot be God and be unable to remember, so this inability to remember must be different than the actual event of recalling things.  It is clear from this passage and others that God doesn’t remember our sins in a way in which He holds them to our account.  As Eugene Peterson translates the Isaiah passage, "But I, yes I, am the one who takes care of your sins—that's what I do. I don't keep a list of your sins." (Isaiah 43:25 MSG)

Is this what the apostle Paul had in mind when he wrote, “No, dear brothers and sisters, I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us." (Philippians 3:13-14 NLT)

Paul could certainly remember the past.  He made a point of not remembering it in a way that kept him from moving forward.  One of the things I’ve noticed over the more than forty years of knowing Jesus is that sin sets me back but the remembering of that sin with shame and discouragement also sets me back.  Either way the accuser has me neutralized because I’m focused on my "lesterday."  Paul says he can forget his past because God does.

Raya doesn’t keep a list of what happened "lesterday."  She’s too busy living today to the full.  There will come a time when her memory is developed enough to remember and learn from what happened before today, but I pray she can, like Paul, forget the past and look forward to what lies ahead in her relationship with God.

I Knew This Would Happen

I knew this would happen.  I really wasn’t surprised.  It has happened before. Many of you have been there before me and could have reminded me.

During my sabbatical I joined a gym.  One of the goals of my sabbatical was to drop about five pounds and firm up what was left.  Initially Sharon and I went to the gym quite consistently three times each week.  Just before Anina passed away and our schedules were thrown for a loop, it was actually getting easier to go to the gym and my body was beginning to show progress.  There were abdominal muscles that could be felt even when they could not yet be seen.

But that was weeks ago.  This morning I went back to the gym for the first time in a long time.  I couldn’t just pick up where I left off.  It wasn’t totally like starting over, but it was close.

Last Sunday, as part of the worship at Santa Margarita Community Church, Matt Daniels shared a quote:  “Grow daily, or die gradually.”  If we fail to keep exercising our relationship with Christ, there are aspects of it that will atrophy.  He doesn’t change, but we do.  I still remember Dr. John G. Mitchell asking us at Multnomah School of the Bible, “Do we sin, resulting in broken fellowship with God, or do we break fellowship with God resulting in sin?”  (I think the answer is “yes,” but feel free to weigh in on the debate.)

When it comes to physical exercise, the good news is I can begin again.  The bad news is it will take more time and cost me more energy than if I had simply kept exercising.

When it comes to fellowship with Jesus, the good news is I can begin again.  The bad news is it will take more time and cost me more energy than if I had simply kept nurturing the relationship.  (This is also true of human-to-human relationships, by the way.)

So here's to starting again. It's beats the alternative of simply giving up and giving in to atrophy.

Life Stages

It has been suggested that there are three common, but not inevitable, stages through which a local church often passes.

The first is the Risk-taker stage.  At this stage the church is reaching out, touching lives for Jesus Christ.  A church in the Risk-taker stage is more concerned with the need of their neighbors to know Jesus and less concerned about the color of the carpet.  The main concern is how they can best build bridges to their not-yet-saved friends.  There is no one else to do what needs to be done, so the members see themselves as ministers, the church leadership as equippers and their day-to-day world as their own personal mission field.  The Risk-taker church is looking outward.

The second stage is the Caretaker stage.  With growth in the church comes the need for increased formal structures to keep the wheels of ministry within the church running smooth.  If they weren’t so busy running to church activities, they might have time to talk with their neighbors about the good news of Jesus Christ.  Instead of building bridges, the church builds walls to keep out those who are not like them.  The members now see themselves as the many who support the ministry of the few.  The Caretaker church is looking inward.

The third stage is the Undertaker stage.  The operation was a success but the patient died.  The saddest aspect of this stage is that often churches continue for decades without anyone noticing that the body died years ago.

Eugene Peterson made the accurate observation that, “Nothing is more common in the life of the Spirit than to begin right and end wrong.”  So how can a church remain in the Risk-taker stage?  Is it possible to avoid the Caretaker and Undertaker stages?  The answer, it seems to me, is a qualified “yes.”   It requires vigilance that keeps asking the right questions and then acting on the answers.  “Are we building bridges or walls?”  “Are we looking outward or inward?”  Are we equipping the saints to do the work of ministry or paying the staff to do the work of ministry?”

Take a few minutes to ask those three questions.  Then take even more time to decide what to do about the answers to those questions.  Then take even more time to do something about the answers to those questions.

No church consciously wants to be like the surgeon in Herman Melville's White Jacket who invites other surgeons to watch him perform an amputation on the leg of a seaman.  He lectures on anatomy, surgical techniques, and the many difficult operations he's performed in the past. As he proceeds with the amputation, the patient keeps wailing and passing out. But the doctor ignores the cries as he continues his lengthy lecture.  Finally, the steward of the ship interrupts the doctor and says, "Please, sir, the patient is dead."

The First Day of My Post-Sabbatical Life

I woke up this morning to discover only 5 emails in my EFCA West inbox.  I have been on sabbatical for 13 weeks and there were only 5 emails in my EFCA West inbox.  How is that possible?

It took some planning.  By the end of yesterday I deleted all email that had come into my inbox during those 13 weeks without reading it.  (I did warn anyone who had written me during the 4 weeks prior to my sabbatical.)

This simple step of deleting the contents of my inbox by the end of my sabbatical was brilliant and it has given me freedom to start doing the important things today instead of trying to discern which email really needed my attention.  It worked so well I think I’ll use this anytime I’m going to be gone a week or longer.  Who wants to take all that rest you’ve experienced and lose it in the first few minutes of your first day back by having all those unanswered emails?

Yesterday I told someone my sabbatical is not what I planned but what God knew I needed.  Sharon was quick to add, "And what I needed."  It was a season with more stress but fewer deadlines.  It was a season of lower expectations but increased joy.  It was a season of poor timing but rich reward.  I wouldn't trade any of the experiences I gained for any of the plans I lost.

What else did I learn on my sabbatical?

• While I am in no hurry to get there, I’m going to be o.k. when it comes time to retire.
• Expectations are funny things.
• The Rolling Stones were right, “You can’t always get what you want.”
• A life well-lived is the result of thousands of small choices.
• Even after almost 40 years, my wife still likes spending time with me.
• While I’m not indispensable, I am missed when I’m gone.
• Grieving takes many forms.
• As Mr. Darcy said, “My good opinion once lost is lost forever.”  (Well, maybe not forever, but for a very long time.)
• My grandchildren are above average.
• I like my ministry.  I love my life.

Mother's Day Without Mothers

Sunday is Mother’s Day.  My daughter Kelli and I are plotting how best to pull off a Mother’s Day meal at our house with our oven being non-functional.  I’m sure we’ll figure something out so that Sharon doesn’t have to do the work and Kelli gets to be the representative for our three children.

What is different this year for Sharon and me is that we have both lost our mothers in the last few months.  My mom passed away suddenly and unexpectedly on January 28 and Sharon’s mom passed more slowly and expectedly on April 14.  So this year is the first Mother’s Day without mothers.

Many of you have already experienced this, but this is new for us and it kind of takes away our role as celebrants.  Certainly Sharon will be celebrated, as she should be, but she and I have no mothers here to celebrate. I will be giving Sharon a present as I always do because she is the mother of my children.  But I have no mother to buy-a-card-for-at-the-last-minute-and-hope-it-gets-to-Coeur d’Alene-in-time and Sharon has no mother to express her love and appreciation to in the flesh.

It just highlights our loss again.  I’m sure the year will be full of those.  For all of us who have lost loved ones, the first year is the hardest but it never goes back to normal.  Sunday will be another reminder of King David’s statement about losing his son who died shortly after birth.  He said,  “I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.”

We will celebrate our moms on Sunday.  They just won’t be here to appreciate it.  But if you asked either of them if they want to return here to be part of the celebration, I’m sure they’d both turn down the opportunity.  They’re enjoying their new life too much to want to come back here to the world of limitations.  And we, who still live here, will have to adjust to those limitations yet again.  Like a Mother’s Day without mothers.

"Do you want to play with us?"

“Do you want to play with us?”  It’s a question I get asked about a dozen times a day when the grandgirls are here.  Abby just turned 3 and Raya turned 4 just a couple months ago.  They are here three days each week and as you know if you read my blog they now have a room dedicated to fun and naps. I continue to have my office in my home, just a short distance from their room.  It would certainly be different (and emotionally easier) if I had an office somewhere else.  But I don’t.  And so the question comes with regularity.

It’s Abby who most often asks the question.  How do I nuance the answer for a three-year-old?  “Yes, I WANT to play with you, but no I CAN'T because I have something else to do right now.”  I do want to play with them.  So my answer is a definite yes.  But even on sabbatical I have a few things I need to do so it doesn’t turn into an extended vacation.  (I include this in case my boss, Steve Highfill reads my blog.)

It would be easier to answer if Abby asked, “CAN you play with us now, Papa?”  But she doesn’t ask that.  She asks if I WANT to play with her.  No equivocation on the answer to that question.  Yes, Abby, I do.

Life is full of situations where we want to do something.  Something good.  Something life-giving.  But life is also full of responsibilities which we may or may not want to do, but it must be done whether we want to or not.  There will be a time when Abby understands that.  But in this season of her life her responsibility is to play and learn and be extremely cute and sometimes ornery.

The challenge for those of us who lean heavily toward fulfilling our responsibility is making sure we balance that with the need for nurturing relationships.

Even my above-average granddaughters will not remember many specifics of these early years but they will have a general sense, an ethos, of what it was like to be at Papa and Lola’s house.  I don’t want that impression to be one of always being second to fulfilling a responsibility.  Always being second to fulfilling an obligation.  So, throughout the day, I take short breaks to read with them, play on the floor with them and turn the record over for them (yes, they listen to vinyl at my house).  I still get my responsibilities fulfilled. But I also have the distinct privilege of getting to do what I want to do.  I get to help in the raising of my grandchildren in such a way that they learn life is full of both/and.  Responsibility and Fun.  Obligation and Freedom.

I’ll close for now.  I want to go play.  And I can.

Dominoes

After taking a few days away, Sharon and I have begun some reconfiguring of Anina’s house.  There are plans to eventually do a home make-over (not of the extreme kind), but for now we’re simply repurposing some of the rooms in the house.

Anina’s bedroom, where the children loved to play, is becoming the grandkid room with a twin bed, toddler bed and tons of books and puzzles (all of which resided at various seasons in the living room, den or office).  In order to turn the bedroom into a grandchild’s paradise we had to remove the terribly outdated blue shag carpet along with the padding underneath.  As we removed the padding we discovered tiles beneath.  When finally we removed the carpet, padding and tiles, we washed the concrete floor thoroughly.  Then we moved the foam floor tiles from the garage play area into the room.  We moved the toddler bed out of Anina’s office where it’s been for a few months now.  We moved the toy box out of the living room where it’s been for years.  We moved book cases out of the hallway and my garage office.  

Anina's room is becoming the grandkids room, the office is becoming the guest room, the den is becoming my office, the TV is moving from the den into the rearranged living room, the sewing table is moving from the den into the guest room and the garage is becoming a garage.  No wonder I'm tired.

Moving things from one room into another created a domino effect.  In fact over the space of a few days we must have looked at each other and said, “Dominoes” at least a couple dozen times.  There were times we inwardly hesitated to move forward knowing a series of other changes would be needed as the result of one small change.

The feelings this created in me seemed very familiar.  Then I began to realize why.  Throughout my walk with Christ he has invited me to make a small change.  But it didn’t take long in this relationship with him to know that while the change he was asking for wasn’t that big, it inevitably led to a domino effect.  That one small change brought me to a place of another change.  And another.  And another.

The feelings I identified during these past few days related to the rooms are the same ones I’ve felt when Christ has called me to go further up and further in.  I sometimes hesitate because I know it’s not the last of the changes.  Like the changes in the rooms that are dependent upon other changes, the changes God calls me to are often dependent on other changes.  While the process of changing the rooms makes me tired and sore at the end of each day, the end result is immensely satisfying and useful to others.  In the same way, the process of change in my life often leaves me tired and sore, but the end result is immensely satisfying and helpful to others.

If I stop anywhere along the process, whether with the rooms in my home or my growth in Christ, because I am unwilling to make the additional changes brought about by the previous changes, then I cannot complete the house or come to maturity because no room stands in isolation to the others and neither can any areas of my life be cordoned off and isolated from the others.

My life-long prayer has been that God will not stop making the changes in me that move me to be more like Jesus.  It isn’t always fun, but it is always worth it. With eyes wide open I choose to make the change, knowing it won't be the last and, in most cases, I have no idea what's coming next.  It is probably good I don't know about the tile beneath the padding beneath the carpet of my life.  I'd think twice about removing the carpet.

Transitions

Transitions have always been a challenge for Sharon and me.  So this new season in which we no longer have to consider Anina’s needs or wants will be a bit of a challenge.  As Sharon and I departed for our three-day get away Sharon noted that it was going to be interesting to see if we still have things to talk about now that Anina is gone.  Both explicitly and implicitly, Anina always had to be considered, much as our children did when they were still living at home.  They were not the center of our world, but they were definitely a primary consideration in choices and changes.

We have been here before.  When our three very special children had all launched there was a brief season in which we did not have to take them into consideration as a primary factor in what we would do or where we would go or how we would spend our time or money.  Then in 2006 we made the decision to be near, and eventually move in with, my mother-in-law in Southern California.  An interesting thing I noticed is that living with Anina was similar to living with children, but in reverse. 

When we first moved in with her it was like having nearly-grown children.  She didn’t have to ask permission to go places or do things, she just had to let us know where she was.  And vice-versa.  As the time went on she became more dependent on us, which was more like raising younger children.  At the end it became like having a baby.  We couldn’t really be gone without having someone to sit with her.  We had to factor in the costs of caregiving when deciding what we could and couldn’t do.

On these days away we are only briefly talking about what comes next.  We are mostly just relaxing, reading, reflecting and being restored before life begins to take on the “new normal” with the end of my sabbatical and the renewing of our life commitments like grandchildren and our home group.  What will be different is the level of stress and sense of responsibility for Anina which will be gone.  If the life group wants to stay past 9:30 pm they can.  If the grandkids want to be a bit noiser in the afternoon when Anina used to rest, they can.  And we can journey to the Central Coast more often to visit Jedidiah and his parents.

Next week we will begin our transition in earnest as we begin to clear out closets and the garage and rearrange our living spaces.  It will be difficult but our new lives will also begin to take shape.  If you’re one of those who prays, pray for us as we journey into the next season of our lives.  Choices have consequences. We want to make choices that will benefit each other and those around us.  We want to bear fruit that reflects the character of God.  We typically don't do transitions well.  Maybe that's why God keeps giving us opportunities to practice.

Live Until You Die

It is true that often we do not get much of a choice in what we are able to do as we age.  Physical or mental limitations hinder us from living our lives as we would like.  But for those who are blessed by being able to keep their mental faculties and maintain some mobility I have a question.  Are you going to live until you die?

What prompts this question is the memorial service for my mother-in-law, Anina Walberg.  She went on short term missions trips to Venezuela with Peace Officers for Christ when she was 79 and again at 80.  She maintained a mailing ministry and did bookkeeping for a preschool until this past December at age 96.  She continued to call individuals and sing them a version of the birthday song that called on God to bless the person whose birthday it was up until days before she passed away.

All of us are given gifts and abilities.  And like a fruit tree, these resources are not intended for our own consumption.  Our fruit is produced to be used by someone else.  As a pastor I have seen far too many people launch their children and then begin to focus on themselves for the next four decades or so.  Or people with small children focus on nothing but their own family for the first couple decades.  What the Bible seems clear about is using our gifts throughout our lives.  

It is true that some seasons create some limitations.  Our time in SoCal was committed to Anina and that time commitment increased as her health deteriorated.  Even in this season we were able to use our talents to help others.  In most seasons in our lives there is enough time and energy to involve ourselves in the lives of others (in a healthy way) so that they are blessed and we get to use our gifts.

If you’re interested in hearing how Anina lived until she died, you can watch her memorial on YouTube.  She lived well.  She died well.  And as a result she is honored at her memorial service.

How Was Your Sabbatical?

“How was your sabbatical?”  I was in Minneapolis at the EFCA headquarters this past week for two important meetings.  This was the first question from my friends as they saw me in the hallways.

I had to pause a minute to think about that.  First, I pointed out I technically have two more weeks, so I’m still on sabbatical.  Second, I reiterated it wasn’t much like what I had envisioned but it was everything I and my family needed it to be.  My mother passed away a few days before the sabbatical began and my mother-in-law passed away last week so my sabbatical was basically bookended by the passing of two significant people in my life.  That meant being there for my family and having them there for me.

As I thought more about it I pointed out that my availability for my family in this season, I’d like to think, would have been roughly the same if I had not been on sabbatical.  The big difference is that because our team knew I was on sabbatical they had already adjusted their life and schedule in ways that did not factor me in.  My focus on the family did not impact anyone else on the team as it would have done if I had not been on sabbatical.  For that I give thanks.

As my sabbatical has unfolded I have become more comfortable with the fact that while there are a number of things that did not turn out as I had imagined and planned them, God has given me some great uninterrupted time with family and with Himself that are irreplaceable.  I have been more “there” for the early weeks of my youngest grandson’s life.  I have been more “there” for my father as he adjusts to life in SoCal instead of northern Idaho.  I have been more “there” for my wife as she has navigated caring for her mother and caring for our grandchildren.  I have been more “there” for my mother-in-law during her last days here.  And I was definitely more “there” at the moment she passed from time into eternity.  Much of this I would have missed had I been working, but I would have also missed more if I had kept to my original sabbatical schedule.

How was my sabbatical?  The final tally isn’t in, but the voting is heavily leaning toward “not much of what I originally wanted” but “all of what I really needed.”  The remnant of my original plan for the last two weeks, based on input from several friends who have taken sabbaticals, is to lay pretty low, spending time relaxing and refreshing.  That’s the plan.  We’ll see how that works out.

Great, Now I Have Guilt

Today there are no appointments on my calendar and no tasks that really HAVE to be done.  Because I’m in Minneapolis there are no chores to do around my house.  I have no meetings at EFCA because I’m on sabbatical.  I’m trying to remember the last time I wasn’t on vacation but found myself with an entire unspoken-for day.  Even my weekly Sabbath includes attending church.

I slept in until 8:45.  I sauntered downstairs for the hotel’s forgettable breakfast.  I’ve read and answered some email, read my Bible, journaled and spent some time in prayer.  I showered but not shaved.  I sat to write a blog and this is what came out.

The funny thing is that I feel some pressure to decide what I will do for the rest of the day.  Unfortunately the Spurs game is on NBA TV which the hotel does not have in its lineup (nor do I at home).  And who cares about the Eastern Conference games?  My biggest decisions are whether to go downtown to the Spaghetti Factory or eat at Famous Dave’s at MOA.

Can you feel the tension mounting?  What happens if I reach the end of the day and have done nothing of significance?  What if Sharon, who has so many projects related to her mom’s memorial service on Saturday, finds out I slept part of the day and watched old episodes of Leverage?  As the dinosaur in Toy Story says, "Great, now I have guilt."

I have always claimed I do not find my significance in what I do.  Today I was reminded that that is a lie.  It’s not where I find my greatest significance, but it often runs a close second.  Know what I mean?

Well, I have to go now.  I have nothing to do but I have to hurry up and not do it.  It will make me feel better.

Thanks for Listening

On Monday, April 14 my mother-in-law passed away.  On Thursday, April 17 we received a cold call from a real estate company.  They asked for Anina.  When Sharon said she had passed away just a few days before the sales person didn’t skip a beat when asking, “Are you a Walberg?  We have people interested in buying in your area.”  Sharon was so taken aback she didn’t know quite how to respond.  I think she finally blurted out something to the effect, “I just told you my mother died.  Thank you for your concern. (This last sentence dripped with sarcasm that I am sure was lost on the caller.)

After I recovered from hearing the story I phoned the number back and got a salesman named Mike.  I asked for whoever was supervising the cold calls.  Mike held his hand lightly over the phone and yelled to someone that a caller wanted to talk to the supervisor.  The supervisor was busy telling the crew to close up for the night and told Mike to tell me he would call me back.

Mike came back on the line and said the supervisor was in a meeting (Lie 1) and that he would call me back (Lie 2).  (As of today I have still not received a call back.)  Mike asked what my call was about so I related the story.  His first response was, “Maybe the salesperson wasn’t listening when your wife told him her mom had died.”  I literally held the phone away from my ear and looked at it.  I asked Mike if that is how the salespeople are trained.  To not listen.  He assured me that was not the case.  I assured Mike the salesperson had listened to the words my wife spoke because of his response asking if she was a Walberg.  In other words, he heard enough to want to pursue whether Sharon had the ability to sell the house.

I tell this story so that I can vent my frustration.  It is clear that my emotions are raw at this season and I feel protective of my wife and her emotions.  Thanks for listening.  You are a true friend.

But I also tell it because we pastor-types, we ministry leaders, can often have the same laser focus on what we want to communicate or what we want to get done and although we hear the words people speak we do not hear the backstory.  We fail to listen long enough and close enough to pick up the context of their answer and its implications for their life and ministry with us as a Body.  We have a goal in mind and we don’t want to be confused with a storyline that doesn’t fit our scenario.  We, in pure point of fact, use people instead of shepherding them.  We size them up to fit into our ministry scheme.  We see new people who attend in terms of their potential contribution to the mission.  Gifts, money, time.  These are the commodities we trade in.  It ought not to be so. 

These are the people God has sent to both receive and to give to the local church. But our role is not, primarily, about recruiting.  It is not, primarily, about finding them a place in our strategy.  It is, primarily, about making disciples.  Followers of Jesus.  As Larry Osborne is quick to say, disciple is not a fancy term. It means follower or learner.  It says nothing about the quality of their following or learning.  It says nothing about their willingness to fit into our program.  It says everything about the direction they are going. 

My take-away from the phone call last Thursday is a desire that God deliver me from ever relating to people the way the salesperson related to Sharon.  I don’t want to be the guy that is so fixated on the goal that I miss the person.

I Wanna Be Dead

When we knew that Anina was entering her last days we talked about how we wanted to prepare our two granddaughters (Raya, aged 4 and Abby, aged 3).  They are at the house with us and their great-grandma (whom they refer to as grandma) three days a week and grandma's dying could not be hidden as she became less mobile and more bedridden.  We talked to them about how sick grandma was and how one day grandma would leave us to be with Jesus.  Last Saturday the girls went into Anina's room to say goodbye because they were going home.  They each gave her a kiss and grandma placed her hand on each of their heads in a very "matriarchal blessing" kind of way.  By the time the girls had returned on Tuesday, Anina had stepped into eternity.

Sharon and I decided to keep Anina's room, including the hospital bed, just as it had been for the past five weeks.  On Tuesday we let the girls climb up on Anina's now empty bed.  They got to raise and lower the head and foot of grandma’s hospital bed for each other and Kristi took them for a ride around the block in grandma’s wheel chair.

On Wednesday morning the girls repeated their adventures with grandma's supplies.  That afternoon the medical supply company came and took back the hospital bed, the wheel chair, the oxygen tanks and other medical supplies.  On Wednesday night we moved Anina’s twin bed back into the room.

When the girls arrived yesterday they climbed onto the bed and began looking for the controls that would elevate the bed.  They were disappointed to find that the bed was just an ordinary bed again.

Just a short while later Raya was lying on the floor and Abby came to get me from my home office.  “Coco is sick” she said.  I went out to the living room and picked Coco (Raya) up.  Abby told me I needed to take her to grandma’s bed.  When I lay Raya down, I said to Abby, “Coco is sleeping.”  Raya said, “No, I’m dead.”  At that point Abby piped up, “I wanna be dead.”  (Abby wants to do whatever Raya is doing and she figured it must be her turn.)

We wanted our granddaughters to see death as part of life but I don’t think I was prepared for them to "play dead.”  As a culture we have removed dying from the home and institutionalized it.  In his book, The Christian Art of Dying, Allen Verhey points out that in 1945, 40% of deaths occurred in a hospital.  By 1995, 90% of deaths occurred in a hospital.  In fifty short years our culture removed dying from the daily-ness of life.

I am still astounded when 20 and 30-somethings tell me they have never been to a funeral or a memorial service for anyone.  My oldest daughter, who has been to many memorial services, pointed out that being with her grandma when she died was the first time she had been around a dead body.

At first I was a bit taken aback by Raya and Abby’s game of death but then I remembered what Jesus said during a discussion about John the baptizer.  John was very austere and people didn’t respond.  Jesus was very gracious and people didn’t respond.  To illustrate how the people didn’t like either Jesus’ or John’s ministry, Jesus said, “They are like children playing a game in the public square. They complain to their friends, ‘We played wedding songs, and you didn’t dance, so we played funeral songs, and you didn’t weep.’” (Luke 7:32  NLT)  Evidently my granddaughters’ game has a long and illustrious history.  I have seen them play wedding.  I had never seen them play dead.

I’m not sure we’re ready as a culture to put the body on a door and leave it in the living room for a few days while everyone comes by to express their condolences (although I can see the advantages), but I do think we would be more mindful of our lives if we were more aware of our deaths.  I’m not sure I want my granddaughters playing “I wanna be dead” all the time, but I do want them to grow up knowing that physical death is part of earthly life.  I want death to hold no fear for them because they, like their great-grandma Anina, know that the life, death and resurrection of Jesus changes death from something to be feared to something to be welcomed.  Death, as Billy Graham once said, goes from being a hopeless end to being an endless hope.

As the writer to the Hebrew Christians put it: "Because God’s children are human beings—made of flesh and blood—the Son also became flesh and blood. For only as a human being could he die, and only by dying could he break the power of the devil, who had the power of death. Only in this way could he set free all who have lived their lives as slaves to the fear of dying. We also know that the Son did not come to help angels; he came to help the descendants of Abraham. Therefore, it was necessary for him to be made in every respect like us, his brothers and sisters, so that he could be our merciful and faithful High Priest before God. Then he could offer a sacrifice that would take away the sins of the people.  (Hebrews 2:14-17 NLT)

On this week that looks back at the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus we can say along with Paul, "'O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?' For sin is the sting that results in death, and the law gives sin its power. But thank God! He gives us victory over sin and death through our Lord Jesus Christ." (1 Corinthians 15:55-57 NLT)

What Exactly Did You Like About Anina's Death?

As with most twenty-first century technology, Facebook has some great advantages.  I get to see seasons in the life of friends, the growing up of the children and grandchildren of friends and family.  I find out about transitions such as marriage, birth, and death.

But with the advantages come some limitations that have me conflicted.  This has been highlighted over the past couple days with the death of my mother-in-law, Anina Walberg.  While Facebook has allowed us to let so many of her family and friends know without the interminable phone calls or a massive mailing, it has also created some inner tensions as I recognized again the limitations of Facebook when it comes to certain announcements, particularly death announcements. 

Think, for instance, of what we did to our friends by posting that Anina had died.  Our friends had to have that moment of, "Do I 'like' this?"  Think about it.  Which part of the announcement are people “liking,” the fact that Anina is dead or that she was ready to go and, as a Christian, was assured where she would be when she drew her last breath?  There is no real nuance with Facebook.  Wouldn't it be nice if there were a few more options such as “How sad for you” or “I have mixed emotions about this.”  With Facebook you either like it or you ignore it.

The very fact that we posted it on Facebook put Anina's friends and our friends in the awkward position of having to click "like" simply to indicate they now know that Anina has passed away. In essence they are saying "message received," but because of the lack of choices there is something inherent in clicking "like." It creates the unspoken question, "What exactly did you like about Anina's death?"

Maybe we're all trying to make Facebook do more than it was designed to do.  And maybe Facebook could give us a few more options than "like."  Until then we're stuck with a very handy tool that can't do everything we'd like it to do.  

And for all those who have "liked" Anina's death, rest assured that Sharon and I and the rest of the family understand you weren't exactly saying you like the fact that Anina is dead. Thank you to all who took a moment to comment on her passing.  It has been a blessing.

A Legacy of Faithfulness

At 1 pm yesterday my mother-in-law Anina Walberg, like someone taking a deep breath before diving below the surface of the water, breathed deeply and stepped into God’s presence.  If we had one we would have fired a cannon (See my blog entry, Here Comes the Boom.) Since we don’t have a cannon, Facebook and Blogs will serve the purpose of announcing the home-going of someone who walked faithfully with God.

Anina was born in Onalaska, Washington (which she always pronounced Warshington).  Raised on a farm, she had very little pretense.  She played the organ at church and for a radio ministry of Pastor C.T. Walberg.  In the course of time she married him, continuing to play the piano, organ or accordion as the need arose.

She wasn’t a great orator.  She didn’t organize the Women’s Retreat.  She didn’t oversee any of the church ministries, but she faithfully helped those who do such things.  She encouraged her pastor-husband, she raised her four children, and she provided meals for missionaries who were passing through.  She even hosted her husband’s estranged father when he showed up on the doorstep while Dr. Walberg was traveling around the world with Bob Pierce.

She opened her home to the friends of her children and Sharon has said she used to complain that her boyfriends were so interested in talking to her mom they often left late for dates.

She was an expert marksman with a dishtowel and could snap you where she wanted at twenty paces.  She had this way of flicking her wrist and hitting you on the backside with her fingers that came close to leaving a welt.  You found yourself walking around the kitchen with your back to the counters and your eye on Anina.

When Dr. Walberg passed away and I couldn’t do it anymore, Anina stepped in to take over as the voice of the radio ministry.  She was heard on KTYM for years as she brought a word of Scripture, a poem and a word of encouragement.  When the radio costs got to be too much she morphed the radio ministry into a literature ministry which she only gave up, begrudgingly, last December at age 96.

As the responses are pouring in the theme over and over again is that people saw Jesus in Anina’s love for them and her faithfulness to God. No flash.  No Glitz. No Glam.  Just a daily living out of her faith in Jesus in whatever season she found herself.  I have no doubt she heard, “Well done good and faithful servant” when she got to the throne room yesterday.

New Math

Tomorrow Anina Walberg will finish her 97th year of life and, if God permits, begin her 98th.  She, her friends and family have always counted time by years. In early March, when she was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, we began counting time by months.  Then we began counting by weeks.  And now we count time by days.

We also count milliliters when measuring her water consumption.  Ounces when we measure the juice in which to put her medications. Liters when we dial in her oxygen.  Hours when we count how much she sleeps each day.  And we count the number of times we get up with Anina each night.

It was only a few years ago Anina would drive for miles.  Then she had to be driven where she wanted to go.  Then she walked around the block.  Then she was pushed around the block in her wheel chair.  She walked from the bedroom to her office or out to the table to eat.  Then she walked a few feet to the bathroom or her recliner.  Now she rolls a few inches to the left or right to get comfortable.

Anina is learning a new math.  And the measurements mark the boundaries of her earthly existence.  But a day is coming soon when she will enter a place more vast and wonderful than anything she has experienced in her 97 years.  She won’t have to count calories, distance or time. The numbers in her life now seem small and constraining, but today’s numbers are not forever.  Her life is.

King David wisely prayed “Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom. (Psalm 90:12 NLT)

James wrote, “Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.”  (James 4:13-15 ESV)

The preacher declares in Ecclesiastes, "For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest.  (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 NLT)

These verses describe life here and now in the world as we know it.  John, the apostle, in his revelation of Jesus Christ records what is ahead for Anina and all those who have been reconciled to God through Jesus, “He [God] will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”  (Revelation 21:4 ESV)

That is what Anina is counting on.

Let It Go, Let It Go

The Life Group of which Sharon and I are a part is going through a series entitled The Gospel-Centered Life published by World Harvest Mission.  This has been a challenging and growth-inducing study of how the gospel not only saves us, but is the basis for on-going life change.

Last night was “Getting to the Heart of Forgiveness.”  The assignment was to identify a few people whom we have not forgiven or who we need to more deeply forgive because we have not, in the words of that immortal song from Frozen, “Let it Go.”

It took me a few minutes to identify two people.  What I noticed was that in each of the two cases one of the reasons I was having difficulty releasing them from the hurt to me was that they had never acknowledged how they had hurt me.  They couldn’t see that what they did was hurtful and inappropriate.  As an ENFJ (the same temperament as Jesus) I am wired for reasonableness.  These two people have not been persuaded by my reasonable presentation of their offense that they were ever in the wrong.  If they could see and acknowledge their sins against me it would make it so much easier to forgive them.  But they don’t.  So I have to keep working on my attitude toward them.

The group agreed that these are the hardest people to forgive.  Those who are unwilling or unable to acknowledge that they have wronged us.  Hurt us.  Unless a person is one of those who repeatedly “repents” and then continues to inflict pain, we all agreed that the person who acknowledges their wrong is much easier to forgive than the person who will not admit their sin against us.

By the end of the exercise I was graphically reminded that, as Lewis Smedes writes in his classic work Forgive and Forget, forgiveness is a choice AND a process.  We take the debt on ourselves and pay it for them.  We release them from the wrong they did to us.  (That doesn’t mean, by the way, that we continue to put ourselves in the place of allowing them to keep hurting us.  As Dan Allender writes, “Forgiveness involves a heart that cancels the debt but does not lend new money until repentance occurs.”

The study brings us back to the gospel.  We have been forgiven much more than whatever it is that has been done to us.  If God took the initiative to forgive us our debt against Him, how can we not seek to extend that same grace toward those who have sinned against us.  (Trusting the other person after an egregious offense is a blog for another time.  See the Allender quote above.)  Jesus says in more than one place that we are expected, as God’s forgiven children, to pass that forgiveness along.  Today I choose to let it go.  Again.

A Living Memorial

In January when my mother-in-law Anina said she wanted to see Jesus in 2014, Sharon and I began talking with her about what she wanted for her memorial service.  As it began looking more likely Anina will get her wish to be with Jesus before the year ends, we wanted to celebrate her birthday AND host a “living memorial,” a time when people could give their eulogy directly to Anina.  Anina refused.  She thought it would seem “proud” for her to accept the opportunity for people to speak highly of her to her face.  Sharon, being the wise woman she is, approached Anina a few weeks later about having a birthday/retirement party.  Anina agreed to that.  (A rose by any other name…)

Last Saturday we were able to celebrate Anina’s 97^th birthday (one week early) and have some of her friends and family over to the house to articulate to her what she means to them.

Rather than sitting Anina in the living room and having the more than 60 people overwhelm her, we had 2 or 3 people in her bedroom (which I wanted to label the Sanctum Sanctorum) at a time to chat, pray with and encourage Anina.

The day was exhausting for Anina, but it also blessed her deeply.  We saw more than a few come out of the bedroom wiping tears, so the blessing was mutual.

Not everyone gets a timeline on their death, but for those who do let me recommend that you plan a memorial service of sorts while they are still alive to appreciate it.  After what happened last Saturday, Anina’s public memorial service will be a bit anticlimactic for me.  Those of us in attendance at her “real” memorial service will be comforted in our loss, but the good stuff was said while Anina could still hear and understand it.  I don’t think it even went to her head, making her proud.  Instead she felt loved and appreciated.  It doesn’t get much better than that.

ROI

My mother-in-law has reached the point in her final journey where she requires someone to help her get out of bed.  She no longer even walks with a walker but must be transported from her room to the dining room using her wheelchair (which my 4-year-old granddaughter referred to the other day as "Grandma’s stroller").

So it was with surprise and anger that I went in to check on her the other day and she had gotten herself out of bed on her own.  I was wise enough to not say much, not trusting myself to not give it to her with both barrels.  She had literally risked her life and health in order to do something on her own that should be done only with the help of others.  The reason she is on hospice is because she wants to die at home rather than in a hospital.  I was about to point out how one moment’s decision could shift her current delicate balance so significantly that she would make it impossible to die at home because she would have hurt herself so seriously she would have been admitted to the hospital.

When Anina was 86 (she turns 97 on April 12, Lord willing) we asked her how she would like her life to play out if she had some control and some choice in the matter.  She made clear she wanted to keep attending her church, shopping at her stores, living in her home and finally dying in her bed.  This began the journey for Sharon and I in which we moved back to Southern California in order to honor Anina by doing what we could to make her desire come to fruition.

What saddens me about my inner response to finding Anina out of bed is what was taking place in my heart.  My inner conversation with Anina went something like this:  “We didn’t give up the best church we ever served located in the best place we ever lived and exiled ourselves to Southern California for eight years only to have you break a hip and die in the hospital.” In other words, I was thinking of me. 

I thought I had counted the cost when we decided to move back to Southern California in September 2006 so that we could be closer to Anina and help her with whatever years she had left.  Evidently I have come to think the cost might be too high if the story ends differently than what Anina and I envisioned.

When her impulsive decision threatened to provide a different ending to the story all I could think of was that this would somehow make our sacrifice null and void. It will all have been for naught.  In essence I was angry because it felt like all we have done for her over the years was not worth her being careful enough to stay the course and step into eternity from the comfort of her own bed.  In short, there is evidently in me an assumption that when I choose to serve another then the other must cooperate in the process so that things turn out the way I want.

When I typed that last sentence I realized that that has never been the case in my forty-four years of following Jesus.  It hasn't been the case with my marriage.  It hasn't been the case with my children or grandchildren.  It hasn't been the case with the people in the churches I have served.  God doesn’t lay out how things will turn out and then ask me to serve.  He asks me to serve and leave the results to him.  Sadly it seems I have adopted a Return on Investment attitude toward serving.  If I can’t get reimbursed, at least I want the scenario to play out the way I have it pictured in my head.  Like you, I can be very shallow.  I just hate it when it becomes so obvious.

When you run out of things to do today you can take a minute to pray for me.  Just like Anina I want to finish well.  And while you're praying, ask God to impress on Anina the need to accept the help available. Tomorrow is the celebration of her birthday and her retirement from ministry last December.  I'd like her to be here when the guests arrive instead of being in the hospital.

The Presence of Presents and the Presents of Presence

In church last Sunday my pastor was praying as the service opened.  At one point in his prayer he said something along the lines of “we thank you for your presence.”  At that point, in a very clear voice a child was heard to exclaim, “Presents!?”

Even as I write this I am assuming that my pastor meant presence and that the child meant presents.  Since his prayer and the child’s response were not written I could be mistaken.  Presence and presents are not technically homophones, but close enough.  Maybe Tim said presents.  It would be appropriate in worship to acknowledge God’s presents.  (Although in most evangelical circles we would use the word “gifts” because it doesn’t sound so worldly.)  And maybe the child said “Presence!?” because he got excited that God might actually be there.

But I’m going to go with my first instinct and assume Tim said presence and the child said presents.  While this was an obvious failure to communicate however innocently and unintentionally it happened, I must say it was one of those serendipitous moments in worship in which the Holy Spirit took an ordinary occasion and breathed into it the extra-ordinary.

For the next few moments I lost track of the prayer (sorry, Tim) and thought about how much I appreciate both God’s presence and His presents.  Like the presence of children in worship who remind us of God’s presents.  Like the presents the Holy Spirit gives to each believer to be used to display God's presence.  Like the presence of brothers and sisters in Christ who are presents to the Body of Christ.

Next time you’re in worship see if you can identify both God’s presence and His presents.  You may discover presents and presence you've been missing.

I Support Euthanasia

I support euthanasia.  That sounds heretical for an evangelical, but over the past month spent with my mother-in-law on hospice and as a pastor for 39 years, I am a supporter of euthanasia.  I think, in fact, that everyone should experience euthanasia.

I must hasten to add that I do NOT support what our culture means when they use the word.  I support the word at its core.  The word at its face value rather that what it has become freighted with over the past decades in particular.

The word euthanasia comes from the Greek prefix “eu” which means good.  We see it in words like eulogy (eu=good, logos=words.  A eulogy is good words about the deceased.), euphemism (eu=good, pheme=praise or flattering speech.  A euphemism is a word or phrase that makes something bad sound better than it is.) and eucharist (eu=good, charis=grace.  Communion is a good grace from God.)

The second part of euthanasia is “thanatos” which means death.  The word euthanasia, stripped of its cultural and philosophical baggage (which one can seldom, if ever, do with words), is a “good death.”  I am a supporter of a good death.  Where I differ with my culture is on what defines a good death.

Over the years of pastoral ministry it has been my privilege and my burden to be with people during the final stages of their earthly life.  Sometimes even the last moments of their life.  Some have died a good death.  Some have not.

In those years of pastoral ministry I have found that, most often, a good death is the result of a good life.  I do not mean an easy life.  I mean a good life.  A life lived in close fellowship with God who made us and who redeems us through His son, Jesus Christ.  The kind of life that is the overflow of the confidence found in Charitie Lees Smith’s song, “The Advocate” (which has become known as “Before the Throne of God Above.”)

Before the throne of God above
I have a strong and perfect plea.
A great high Priest whose Name is Love
Who ever lives and pleads for me.

My name is graven on His hands
My name is written on His heart.
I know that while in Heaven He stands
No tongue can bid me thence depart.

When Satan tempts me to despair
And tells me of the guilt within
Upward I look and see Him there
Who made an end of all my sin.

Because the sinless Savior died
My sinful soul is counted free.
For God the just is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me.

Behold Him there the risen Lamb,
My perfect spotless righteousness,
The great unchangeable I AM,
The King of glory and of grace,

One in Himself I cannot die.
My soul is purchased by His blood
My life is hid with Christ on high,
With Christ my Savior and my God!

People seldom develop that confidence on their deathbed, although it sometimes happens. More commonly this good life which leads to a good death is developed over the course of a lifetime, however long that is.  Clayton McDonald knew this truth and openly shared it with his classmates in Atascadero, California.  (You can watch the 6-minute documentary here.)  What is particularly profound in Clayton’s testimony is his acknowledgement that knowing WHEN he would die helped put his living in perspective.

Not everyone gets an advance notice on the timing of their own death and therefore not everyone gets an opportunity to prepare for their own death.  As Sandra Bullock’s character in Gravity, Ryan Stone, says, “We’re all going to die. Everybody knows that. But I’m going to die today.”  Since we don't know the timing, it is fitting to live our lives now in such a way that we can pass from a good life to a good death. It is the awareness of the preciousness of life but also the preciousness of the One who is The Life (John 14:6) that leads to a good life AND a good death.

The Third Son

"Tell me what you think of this story: A man had two sons. He went up to the first and said, 'Son, go out for the day and work in the vineyard.' The son answered, 'I don't want to.' Later on he thought better of it and went. The father gave the same command to the second son. He answered, 'Sure, glad to.' But he never went. Which of the two sons did what the father asked?" They said, "The first." Jesus said, "Yes…” Matthew 21:28-31a (The Message)

One of the fascinating aspects of this story is that there is no third son who said, “Sure, glad to” and then immediately did the will of his father.  The only two options are the son who said he wouldn’t, but did and the son who said he would, but didn’t.  Why no third son in the story?  Is it because Jesus understands so clearly how broken we are and how self-focused we are?  Jesus gives the high priests and elders only two sons to choose from.  Maybe Jesus understood that, given their bent toward self-righteousness, the high priests and elders will self-identify as the third son.  Certainly no one wants to admit being the fourth son who says, "I won't" and then doesn't.

When faced with only two options the high priests and leaders are forced to choose the first son because only the first son actually did what his father asked.  Only one son did his father’s will.  For Jesus, it seems, the first issue is obedience.  It may take some time before one obeys, but the bottom line is doing the will of the father.  It is, according to Jesus, far better to balk initially, think better of it and obey than to feign obedience and never follow through.

Which brings me to this season in my life.  When it comes to my sabbatical, I still miss Rachel.  (Please refer to my earlier blogs, "When Your Son [Father] or Ox Falls in the Well," and “Waking With Leah” for context.)  When my father, my mother-in-law, my wife and my grandchildren need me, my first inward response is often that of the first son, “I don’t want to.”  But like that first son I think better of it, most times quite soon after the first inner response, and go.  I have no doubt that my father, my mother-in-law, my wife and my grandchildren have on more than one occasion sensed the hesitation.  That split second pause. But I also have no doubt that they would rather have that short reluctance followed by my availability than for me to keep promising I’ll get around to caring for them but never actually doing it.

Lest you think I’m some kind of saint, (Actually I am but that’s a blog for another time.) I want you to know that this dying to myself business is hard.  I don’t enjoy it.  It doesn’t come naturally.  It gets in the way of my plans.  But it does the will of the Father.  And from the lips of His own Son I hear that it is better, given the premise that there are only two sons, to be the first son than the second.

Therefore because I love my Father, my father, my mother-in-law, my wife and my grandchildren, I will continue to make being the first son my goal while seeking to become more like the unmentioned third son.  The son who answers, “Sure, glad to” and then immediately does what his father asks.  In the meantime both I and those around me would much prefer I be the first son than the second.

A 90 Minute Wait for a 60 Second Solution

Many of you know I’m helping my father during this transition from 65 years of marriage to being a single.  From living in northern Idaho to living in southern California.  From living independently to independent living.

Part of this process has been taking care of the paperwork related to mom’s death.  Changing account names and addresses, opening new accounts.  Yesterday I spent time talking on the phone with a very nice person from Social Security who helped us apply for mom’s death benefit.  During that conversation the person from Social Security mentioned mom’s date of death as January 27.  Mom died on January 28. When I pointed this out the person told me I would have to get that rectified before the death benefit could be deposited into dad’s account.  They don’t accept photo copies so she suggested I drop by the nearest office, take a number and, when called, show them the certified copy of mom’s death certificate so that the date could be changed. 

I did ask why I had to do this when they got it wrong.  She said maybe the mortuary gave them the wrong information or it was a typo, but either way it had to be rectified.  I asked what difference it made and she said all the numbers must match or no death benefit.  (When I discovered how small the death benefit was I almost cut my dad a check instead of waiting at the Social Security Office.  As you’ll soon read, that might have been the cheaper solution.)

This morning I arrived at the office in Fountain Valley.  The security guard was very helpful in getting me signed in so I could be issued a number.  90 minutes later I sat before a very nice woman who took approximately 60 seconds to make the changes on her computer screen.

A 90 minute wait for a 60 second solution.  A 90 minute wait for a 60 second solution that was caused by someone else.  A 90 minute wait for a 60 second solution that could be resolved in no other way.

As I drove away I could not help but ponder all the complexities of my life that have been caused by one act or decision, sometimes not even caused by me, and all the time it took to resolve or restore the situation.  Sharon and I have a Schliep-ism we use a lot.  “Sin complicates life.” 

Sometimes a brief act causes a lifetime of complexity.  A short sentence may sentence us to years of trying to restore a relationship.  One act can break trust to an extent that requires multiple acts to repair.  (As the Berenstein Bears point out it can never be fully repaired.  There is always some residual scar on the relationship.  I highly recommend “The Berenstein Bears and The Truth.”)

This is the world we live in for now.  A world where things can go so easily wrong.  God gives me hope that most relationships can be restored and situations can be repaired.  But not all. The apostle Paul wrote, “If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all.” (Romans 12:18 ESV)  Peter adds this, quoting from Psalm 34, “For the Scriptures say, “If you want to enjoy life and see many happy days, keep your tongue from speaking evil and your lips from telling lies. Turn away from evil and do good. Search for peace, and work to maintain it. (1 Peter 3:10-11 NLT)  That’s our challenge.  Search for peace, and work to maintain it.  It will probably take longer than 90 minutes.

What's Going Without Saying Should Be Said

A phone message to my mother-in-law a few days ago highlighted something I’ve noticed in our culture.  The message included something along the lines of “I called to tell you how much I love you and appreciate you.  I wanted you to know how special you are to me.”   But the person never went on to quantify the “how much” or “how special.”

The same thing happens in church when someone says, “Praise the Lord” and then no one does.  Praise the Lord is a command not a praise.  A praise would be something along the lines of “God is holy” or “God is loving” or “God is merciful.”  Instead the congregation assumes that the phrase, “Praise the Lord” is all that needs to be said about God. 

The person who left the message may have gone on to enumerate Anina’s specialness or some of the ways the person loves Anina if they had been physically present, but I doubt it.  If we were more accurate, or more honest, we would put our arms around each other and say, “I want you to know how much I love you but I can’t think of a specific way to quantify that” or “I want you to know what a special person you are, but I’m incapable of actually articulating what it is that makes you special.”

On a recent visit to a church I pastored a person came up to me and told me they wanted me to know how much help I’d been in their spiritual development.  And the sentence ended there.  I was tempted to ask in what ways specifically I had helped but that would have sounded like I was asking for a more specific compliment.  Instead I smiled and assumed the best of this person and their motives and thanked God that whatever it was I had done had been of help.

Maybe we should all work on being more specific in our thanks, our praise and our expressions of love to God and to each other.  I, for one, would find it refreshing, affirming, specific and clear instead of generic and obfuscating.

Tell the Truth

I was driving my grandchildren home the other day listening to that classic musical written for Christians by Christians, “Sir Oliver’s Song.”  This musical covers the Ten Commandments, some more than once, with songs that are supposed to have an international feel.  What that meant back in 1979 was that a collection of adults, mostly of European ancestry tried to sing with accents not their own.  A really bad German accent on Dankeschön, for instance or a cheesy Jamaican accent on Kalepo (written by a Bulgarian who was the creative power behind Silverwind, an ABBA wannabe group for Christians). I will leave for another time the idea that monkeys are morally responsible when they steal another monkey’s banana (the premise in Kalepo).  I will not now address the cultural insensitivity inherent in only having English speaking (in one case with a slight Bulgarian accent) performers sing every song even when the song highlighted another language (French, Spanish, Hebrew, German, Bavarian) 

I want to focus on one line from the song, Tell the Truth.  It contains one line that bothered me back when my children were listening to the cassette.  “Stretching the truth is tellin’ a lie.  Angels are honest that’s why they can fly.”  The angelology of this song comes out of nowhere.  Other than making a rhyme for the word lie in the previous sentence there is no theological reason for saying anything about angels and lying.  And there is certainly no reason to attribute an angel’s ability to fly with their honesty.  (Unless the argument is that unfallen angels can still fly while fallen angels no longer possess this ability.  If that is the case, how do they get around?  Public transit?  Walk? Bike?)

There really is a point to this rant besides being able to take a trip down memory lane for those who grew up listening to or having their children listen to Agapeland.  Theology matters.  Children, like adults, learn their theology a little at a time.  Earl Palmer said, “Never teach a child something they will later have to unlearn.”  I’m sure I didn’t do this perfectly as a parent, but I tried very carefully to not teach things that were not true.  There is a place for fiction.  I read a lot of fiction every year, but I know going in it isn’t true.  The danger to children is that they do not have the maturity until quite late in their development to discern the real from the false, the true from the lie.  Ironically this song about telling the truth tells a lie.  And an unnecessary lie at that.  (A lie is an abomination to the Lord.  And a very present help in time of trouble.  Adalai Stevenson) There was no reason to introduce angels into the discussion.

So let this be a warning to us all.  Speak the truth.  Whether about angels or banana stealing monkeys.  If I can figure out how to skip the song on the CD, I’ll do that next time we’re driving up Beach Boulevard.

Wasted Time

One of the items I listed in the things I’ve learned from my journals was that I have not wasted enough time with Sharon.  Later in the day I wondered if that might be misunderstood.  I was NOT saying that at some point I will have wasted enough time on Sharon and we’re through.  (Although, unfortunately, there was a short season early in our marriage when I thought of this phrase in those terms.  Fortunately I came to my senses.)

What I was alluding to was the advice the fox gives to the little prince in Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s classic, The Little Prince.  (A book Sharon introduced me to in 1972.) 

The little prince comes from a planet that has just one rose that he must care for.  He thinks she is the only rose in the universe.  When he arrives on earth he discovers that there are millions of roses.  But the fox points out that the little prince’s rose not like all the other roses because of the time he has spent with her, caring for her, talking with her.  He has, in the fox’s words, “tamed” her, and she him, because they have “established ties” through the daily-ness of life.  Through daily and weekly rites they have become “unique in all the world” to each other. 

Then the fox says, “It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important…You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.  You are responsible for your rose…”

That, dear reader, is what I was referring to when I said I had not wasted enough time on Sharon.  (Who, by the way, I often refer to as Rose.)  She is not like the millions of other women in the world.  She is unique in all the world because of having tamed me through thousands of little words, looks, touches and experiences together.  This accumulation of life together over almost forty years of marriage and almost forty two years of friendship has established ties that will not be broken.

And so, I say it again.  I have not wasted enough time on Sharon.  May God grant us many more years of wasted time.

10 More Lessons From 32 Years of Journaling

I noticed I listed 22 things I had learned from reading my journals.   I decided to add ten more for symmetry.  32 years.  32 lessons.

• It is easier to seem holy from a distance.
• I don't regret the hours spent parenting.
• I haven't wasted enough time on Sharon.
• I thank God for the pastors in my life who took the time to encourage me personally and vocationally.
• I have more often been helped in my spiritual life by non-clergy than clergy.
• Sinners are the only people allowed in the churches to which I belong.
• Hindsight is always 20/20.
• I should have trusted my intuition about people more, especially those in leadership.  I have been right about a person's character more often than wrong.
• Churches would be healthier if people stopped talking about each other and started talking to each other.
• As lives go, I'm pretty content with the one I've lived.

What 32 Years of Journaling Has Taught Me

• Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so.
• I definitely married way, way "up."
• I know what the perfect pastor should be...and I'm not it.
• Relationships are messy.
• It's easier to tell married couples how to repair their relationship than to repair my own.
• My three children love Jesus, their parents, their siblings and the church.  Not bad for Pastor's Kids.
• Life is an adventure.
• Marrying Sharon is the wisest choice I've made in more than 40 years.
• There is no problem that cannot be solved if people would simply do what I tell them.
• Living with my mother-in-law for 7 years is a challenge and a blessing.
• God is more interested in my relationship with Him than my ministry for Him.
• God is more interested in my obedience than my happiness.
• Life has seasons.  If you don't like the one you're in, wait 3-5 years.
• Journaling consistently for 32 years is difficult but helpful.
• My children will probably not find anything surprising in my journal.
• Looking back is helpful if you use what you see to move forward.
• I have changed in so many ways.
• I am the same in so many ways.
• Pastoring a church would be easier if it weren't for the people in it.
• Sharon has been the person God has used most often to nudge me toward maturity.
• I love all three of my children, but I am especially fond of Kristi, Kelli and Jonathan.
• All of my grandchildren are above average.

Where He Leads Me I Will Follow

For you fans keeping score at home I am about to begin reading my journal entries for 2005.  My children at this point in the story have all graduated from High School.  All three of them love Jesus and, maybe more surprising for pastor’s kids, all three love the church.  For about the last 2 years in my journal I have made the observation that I either need to change how I lead or I need God to move me on to another ministry because there are things I sense God wants to do in Santa Margarita Community Church but I don’t seem to be the one to lead them there.  The church has grown from 35 to just under 200 in the sixteen years we’ve been part of the Body and leading 200 is very different from leading 35.

For those who know the end of the story, it will be another 20 months before Sharon and I make the move from Santa Margarita back to Orange County.  It will be early in 2006 that things begin to become clear for us as to the where and when of moving away from the church family we have known and loved for 16 years.

But in January 2005 all that is not so clear.  What is clear is an increasing sense that our time as part of this local church is coming to a close.

I share this because sometimes we think we will always get a clear leading from God.  It will be unmistakable and it will happen fast.  As I’ve read through 20 years of journaling so far I am here to tell you that, for me at least, God’s leading more often comes through a long, rather quiet, process of changing my heart and giving me experiences that prepare me for the next season.  No lightning flashes a la Martin Luther.  No handwriting on the wall a la Belshazzar. No 900 foot Jesus a la Oral Roberts.  Just a steady moving of me along in the daily-ness of life until the next step seems obvious.

Maybe some of you have had those clear words of God about “here is the way, walk in it,” but after shepherding God’s people for 40 years I can testify that more often it is, as Nietzsche wrote, “a long obedience in the same direction.”