(Something of a “life lessons year in review,” in no certain order. I’d love to hear yours. Feel free to add your own in the comments section.)
1. How awesome your cancer surgeon is.
2. How nice people can be, even when you wish they would just hate you.
3. How God provides, even sometimes for fools.
4. The sun really does come out tomorrow.
5. How to spell “aneurysm.”
6. Life goes on, with you or without you.
7. Contrary to the words to the MASH theme, suicide is NOT painless.
8. Failure doesn’t stop people from loving you.
9. Rejection does not come with a cocoon to wrap you away for a while.
10. Nobody is more committed to your success than you are. [click to continue…]
I still miss her sometimes. Pity I’m so busy I don’t miss her more. For me it’s mostly in passing sighs… Like now. (-From my journal a couple of days ago, referring to my mother, who died earlier this year.)
Heard any sermons on longing lately?
I doubt it.
In spite of the fact that it’s such a common experience, and one that is treated a surprising number of times in the Bible, “Dealing with Longing” doesn’t typically generate offerings, baptisms, or slick series brochures from the local worship establishment.
And yet it’s there… right in plain sight. The Bible’s own version of “Miss You Like Crazy.”
Paul wrote those wild child Corinthians a pretty dress-you-down letter (we call it 1 Corinthians). Their response? They turned their hearts, and longed to see Paul. His reply? Same thing. [click to continue…]
“I can’t hear in that ear.”
As long as I knew her, Mama was deaf in her right ear. Because of that she was always sensitive to multi-sensory sound. “I can’t stand all this noise,” she would say as the TV, piano, stereo, and/or people talking (I usually had some role in most of that) all converged at one place. Most often, though, I encountered that deafness when I wanted to whisper something SECRET in her ear as a child.
I can still hear in both ears, but I don’t know that I’ve ever been more aware of a cacophony of sound as I am today.
Lubbock to DFW
I guess I may have slept a total of two hours. There were the calls. The updated information. The relaying of information to my adult kids, and back. The processing. The adrenaline rush of a life-in-crisis that demands action. Now! Sleep, miles, and other needs be damned.
This morning I’m feeling general anger at every phone call, interruption, or other delay. It’s never convenient when the phone rings. But today, it feels downright rude. Unless I’m the one calling, of course.
My sister calls while I’m in the security line. She tells me the neurosurgeon has come in and said there is nothing they can do. “He said if they take her off the respirator, she could last until you get here this afternoon…”
“No, don’t wait,” I say. [click to continue…]
(Tense Truth: The perfect truth of the gospel was placed into the hands of a group of people whose lives were a complete mess. Jesus knew this, but commissioned them anyway.)
Picture the scene in that upper room on the day of the Resurrection. Rumors and testimonies are flying! A strange mixture of fear, joy, and disbelief. Suddenly, according to John’s account, the Lord Jesus appears and says, “Peace to you; as the Father has sent me, so I’m sending you” (John 20:21).
Hello and head out! Victory and a vision. A Conqueror with a commission. And now these disciples would duplicate on earth what was first transacted in heaven. “The Father sent me. In the same way, I am sending you.”
But wait a minute. Before we glory in our visions of Pentecost, it would do us good to remember who it was the Lord was talking to. So send I . . . WHO? [click to continue…]
This is for Larry Chastain.
Larry Whitehurst.
Dawn Pitchford.
David Overton.
Dee Ann Hallmark.
Thomas Barrett.
Priceless people, much younger than me, whose last visit I had with them was over a casket.
This is for parents and grandparents, girlfriends and boyfriends now long since somebody else’s spouse, little brothers and sisters who once were left as only children.
This is for Caden Trethewey and Elizabeth Rodes. Two children I will never meet in this life whose stories profoundly touched me, and I think will touch you.
This past Saturday, Elizabeth was born in South Carolina. Both her parents, Will and Kelly, are on staff at Newspring Church in Anderson. She was nine inches long and weighed 8 ounces – a victim of anencephaly. Without asking for it (who would?), Will and Kelly discovered what so many before them have – that Jesus Christ came to heal the brokenhearted.
Here’s Will in his own words:
I wish that I could describe the presence of God that was with us in that hospital room, but I can’t. Even if you know Jesus, it would probably defy your comprehension, like it still does mine. It is just one more thing in life that I don’t understand, but I do know that God is sovereign and He reigns over all of this and all that is to come.
This is not the end of the story, but rather the beginning of a great work.
You can (and should) read his entire reflection of the story here.
The Tretheweys tell their own story in the remarkable video below. [click to continue…]
The LifeVesting Cycle
Stage 1: Allocate your resources
Stage 2: Explore the possibilities.
Stage 3: Follow your passion.
Heart Island and Boldt Castle (Click picture to enlarge)
George Boldt had the touch. And everything he touched seemed to prosper. The son of poor parents, Mr. Boldt came to America in the 1860s from Prussia. George was a man of tremendous industry and organizational skill. With daring and imagination, he became the most successful hotel magnate in America. He was also the president of several other companies, and director of the Hotel Association of New York. For George, to “dream” and to “do” were the same thing. However fantastic his dreams, they happened.
But business wasn’t his passion.
Louise was.
And what he did, he did for her.
As a testimony to his love for his wife, George purchased an island on the St. Lawrence River in the Thousand Islands Region, and had it carved into the shape of a heart. He renamed it Heart Island and began preparing for the greatest achievement of his lifetime – a Valentine’s Day present for his wife. You’ve heard that a man’s home is his castle? For George, this was literally true. He would build Louise a castle.
George spared no expense. He invested $2.5 million (in 1900 currency), bringing in the finest artists and most skilled craftsmen for the project. He imported marble from Italy, stone from Scotland, and art from the treasures of Europe. The towers and spires rose imperiously over the waters of the St. Lawrence, and the castle looked as if it would rival those that dot the Rhine. Rising six stories from the foundation level of the indoor swimming pool to the highest tower room, an elevator served the 120-room mansion with its 365 windows. In all, there would be eleven buildings, including a clock tower, a power house, a playhouse, and a gazebo.
Then in January 1904 tragedy struck. [click to continue…]
(A Turning Point Story)
“Hi, I’m Butch, and I’m an alcoholic.”
He didn’t say it exactly like that the first time I talked to him. But two minutes into my first conversation with Butch Lowrey, I knew he had been visiting my church, he was a recovering alcoholic, and that he liked what I was preaching. Butch introduced me to a spiritual program that had changed his life and stopped his drinking forever. I attended his second A.A. birthday party, and eventually became his sponsor. No doubt about it, though. I learned more from him than he ever learned from me.
“Nothing in God’s world happens by mistake.”
Butch believed that, and said it often. As part of his recovery, there were many other spiritual truths he stood on, and repeated. Truths such as: “If all your problems could solved by money, you don’t have a problem,” and, “You’ve just got to let go and let God.”
He also learned a rare and refreshing kind of honesty. On one occasion he said, “People in [this] county are committed to making everyone else just as miserable as they are.” Later he told me, “Andy, you preach long because you like to hear yourself talk. You’re just on an ego trip.” He was smiling, of course. [click to continue…]
This Saturday will be the next step in a season of some pretty intense generational shifts for us. More on that tomorrow. I wrote the following article ten years ago, during another such season. It only seems like yesterday…
The voice on the phone was tired and quiet – not unusual for a hospital room at 9:20 pm. They’d just gotten Lou (my grandmother) settled down for the night when I’d made my untimely call. The occasion, other than to check on Lou, was to wish Mamma a happy 60th birthday. A little ironic that I had to track her down at Providence Hospital where she was watching her mother edge closer to death.
Life is filled with choices and changes, and my mom has seen her share of them. But perhaps never with the magnitude and frequency of change she faces now. Her mother has cancer, and is losing the battle. Her son lives many hours away. And up the highway a couple of hours, her daughter prepares for the Big One. She’s preparing to leave the country for the mission field.
On this night, I enjoy a feminine family reunion by telephone. I speak briefly to Lou, to tell her I am thinking of her, loving her, praying for her. I hear the pain, the despair, the fear in her voice. That growing sense of hopelessness that says, “I don’t feel good and I probably never will again.”
[click to continue…]
Winnie the Pooh died last week.
Not the “chubby little cub all stuffed with fluff” – lest I start a bad rumor.
This Winnie was a member of our household for the last sixteen years. The shih tzu has offspring scattered from Georgia to West Texas. She lived in seven different houses and outlived two hamsters, three cats, and two other dogs. What times she wasn’t a yapping fool, she was a good dog. And we’d been anticipating that she didn’t have long to live… for the last three years or so.
In our family two beliefs have always converged. Belief #1: Pets are good things. They teach us a lot about unconditional love, trust, and care. Plus, they’re (usually) a lot of fun.
[click to continue…]
(Something of a “life lessons year in review,” in no certain order. I’d love to hear yours. Feel free to add your own in the comments section.)
