This image disturbs me on many levels.
Yeah, it really does get faster and faster. There are more birthdays to remember (or forget).
(Let’s see… when was my son-in-law’s? Today? Tomorrow?)
I’m definitely Moving at the Speed of Life.
There are more demands – many of them self-imposed. I’m at that point in life where I know I can get more done – just sleep an hour less or (my favorite) multi-task. After all, time’s wasting! I’m smarter now than I’ve ever been, I have lots of unfinished business, and I can sleep when I’m dead.
Right?
Just keep Moving at the Speed of Life.
There are more opportunities or distractions, depending on how you interpret them. I’m at a point in my life where I am incredibly grateful for all the opportunities I have and, truth be told, a little scared to say no when another one presents itself. I’m old and scarred enough to recognize there are no guarantees, and still young enough to say yes when the right ones come along.
I only get one of these, and I’m still Moving at the Speed of Life.
Stop. [click to continue…]
Lord, what are mortals, that you notice them;
mere mortals, that you pay attention to us?
We are like a puff of wind;
our days are like a passing shadow (Psalm 144:3-4).
As this shadow passes across another year, what’s obvious on the playground becomes clearer in life: the further away from that initial push, the shorter the passes are.
So… [click to continue…]
I believe that it is not dying that people are afraid of. Something else, something more unsettling and more tragic than dying frightens us. We are afraid of never having lived, of coming to the end of our days with the sense that we were never really alive, that we never figured out what life was for. – Harold Kushner
The great Presbyterian pastor Donald Grey Barnhouse was once riding in a funeral procession in Philadelphia when he noticed a large cargo truck running in front of the procession. From the way the sun was positioned, he noticed that the truck was casting a large shadow on the sidewalk. That shadow crossed light poles, road signs, and even people, and didn’t harm anything. No one would want to be in front of the truck, mind you, but the shadow was harmless.
Every one of us was born on the other side of something called “labor.” We enter the world completely helpless and fragile, totally dependent on the protection, care and kindness of others. We borrow the oxygen and assorted things for a span of time the Bible calls a “vapor.” Despite our claims to ownership, we take no possessions with us. And we end our sojourn on earth passing through something called a “shadow.”
Birth is a labor soon forgotten…
Life is a vapor quickly fading…
Possessions are an illusion suddenly passing…
Death is shadow silently creeping…
Is there any wonder we struggle sometimes to know what’s real? And what’s valuable? [click to continue…]
When I’ve lost the fire of passion and power and feel reduced to ashes and embers, will You be the Fire that burns in my soul?
When you’ve lost the fire of passion and power and feel reduced to ashes and embers, I’ll be the Fire that burns in your soul. I still love you. And I’m still here.
When I’m standing alone in a crowded room and feel unnoticed… forgotten… alone… will You be the Truth that reminds me I’m not?
When you’re standing alone in a crowded room and feel unnoticed… forgotten… alone… I’ll be the Truth that reminds you you’re not. I still love you. And I’m still here. [click to continue…]
You never knew Lillie Edwards. I hardly did either, except for a brief two-week period years ago. But Lillie will always be a significant figure in my life and memory.
When I met Lillie Edwards, she was dying. I was green-green-green as a young pastor, serving in my first church in a senior role.
Lillie Edwards would be my first funeral service. But she taught me some things about living, and about dying, before our paths parted. [click to continue…]
by Andy Wood on November 19, 2008
in 100 Words
Here is a place where stress is absent.
Where the phone never rings, and babies never cry.
Here is a place where neatness, order, and predictability reign.
A safe place, where seldom is heard a discouraging word.
Here is a place where the “ground is level.”
Where there is no prejudice or pride.
Here is a place that remains unimpacted by the news or political scene.
Where nobody cares if you’re liberal, conservative, or anarchist.
Here is a place where there is no life.
Anywhere else, it can get pretty messy.
But God – and life – are often in the mess.
He puts smiles on the faces of little boys.
He sprinkles sweetness on little girls.
He gives dignity to solemn vows, and sacredness to relationships.
He brings purpose and satisfaction to the striving and seeking of your life.
And it is this life of Jesus that brings healing and peace into the broken life.
I live – I live – because He is risen.
Those words, from a musical titled “Living Witnesses,” profoundly impacted my life more than 30 years ago. So much so that we had them printed on the cover of our wedding brochure in 1983. And on this week in which all over the world we pay attention to the fact that Jesus lives, I find myself thinking of them again. Read them again, slowly. Deeply.
[click to continue…]
