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.