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Archive for the ‘WONDER’ Category

For many it rolls off their tongues as if they have been saying it since they uttered their first words, for others is only spoken in the safe confines of their minds … it’s the still voice … that is not so small.

Above all other words against humanity, I would rate this four-letter F-word the worst of them all … spoken verbally out loud, or (perhaps worst of all) lived, as though it’s four letters are the prison walls that surround the individual.

Fear

Fear is an emotion, caused by a threat … the thing is we can feel fear over what will occur, what may occur or even something that isn’t likely to occur. So, though fear is an emotion that can cause us to avoid danger, it can also cause us to avoid living.

We all have fears. For some it is creepy (or slithery) crawlies. For others it might be speaking in public, enclosed spaces (caves, elevators), needles, boating, flying or broccoli (or maybe that is just a preference … not mentioning any names).

Some of us have fears that are so debilitating that our fears have become phobias, meaning that our fears are so great that anxiety accompanies the fear, preventing us from doing things and going places that we would otherwise love.

Fear

Fear is sneaky too, for it disguises itself in other words … anxiety, uneasy, uncomfortable, overwhelming, weakness … words that send us to our knees.

… can that be so bad?

It is said that there are three hundred and sixty-five times in the Bible when the message,

do not fear

is delivered. I haven’t counted, but I do know that is a common biblical communication to us. It is a message that God has incorporated into his Word, from the Old Testament to the New, from cover to cover.

God knew that fear would come to us when sin entered the world, so he has been whispering, ever since Eden,

… do not fear, for I am with you

What if we acknowledged that whisper when the hairs on the back of our necks start to stand at attention? What if, we reach for a verse in the Bible (see below) and read it, memorize it, read it in the context of the chapter it is written. What if we give out energies over to the opposite of fear … God … instead of giving our full attention to that thing that has our knickers in a knot …

We are not alone in our fears.

May we all be encouraged (as in full of courage) to look for solutions to our fears … there is one and he is always with us, even to the end of the world.

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As I talked to my friend, my heart ached, for they so desired an experience with God, such as Moses and his burning bush.

What this friend desires so much is a beautiful thing, a powerful thing, but God has his own way of interaction and intimacy with his children.

Maybe, as a parent, I understood this better than my friend (who has no children), simply because I know what it is, as a parent, to have similar yet different hopes, and successes, and lives for my three children, because I love my children equally, yet differently.

I could think of no words of wisdom that would penetrate that doubt-filled heart of my friend … then a story began to form in my imagination …

There were two brothers … twins who were so identical that if they were looking at each other they might mistake their brother for a reflection of themselves. Their identical physical appearance could make one imagine that they were alike in every way, but their only other similarity was how they each loved and wanted to worship their God their lives.

When they grew up to adulthood, they both went to Bible school, both determined to give the rest of their lives to serve their God. Initially both were headed to a life in public ministry, both studying theology, public speaking and ensuring that God’s desires for their lives came ahead of their own desires.

After graduating, the first born volunteered to do a two year mission, in a third world nation with great needs, including the needs for clean water, education and spiritual formation. His two years turned into four. During this time he helped raise money (from back home) for a well project to bring clean drinking water to the village, started a school and had converts to Christianity numbered in the hundreds.

When he returned home he was invited to work for an evangelism organization, sharing the Gospel message to people in some of the biggest cities in the world. He wrote books that became best sellers. Everyday there were messages of people who came to know the Lord through his spoken or written word.

Though he did desire to marry and have a family, he never wanted anyone or anything to come between he and his devotion to God’s plan to use him to spread the saving power of God. So he intentionally stayed single, never dating.

Many years later, after a brief illness, he died. At his funeral were dignitaries from around the globe, singing his praises for what he had done on the mission field throughout his life, both abroad in third world countries and in spreading the good news to millions around the world, many of whom accepted the gift of grace that God offers.

Meanwhile, in his final year of university, the second born met a woman, who also loved God. They enjoyed spending time together, love grew between them. They met each other’s families and married soon after graduation.

He had intended to join his brother on the mission field, but his new wife had recently been diagnosed with a chronic disease, requiring treatment that could not be given in a third world country. So, they settled in the town where they graduated, she a school teacher and he, working in the insurance company that her father owned. Over time they had two children and he moved up in the company, eventually taking it over.

They lived a good and happy life together, active in the lives of their children, their community and church. He volunteered in a homeless shelter, was a basketball coach in the local high school. He and his wife, personally, donated and raised the money needed to maintain the school that his brother had begun. He loved his life, his family and community and wouldn’t have traded it for anything, but … especially whenever his brother was in town, he wondered if he had sacrificed enough for God. His brother, who led so many to Christ, whereas he (with his wife) could only remember praying with their children, as they accepted God’s love at young ages.

After a brave battle with cancer, just weeks after his minutes-older brother, he too died. His funeral was in the country church where he and his lifelong love were married and attended. It was attended by family and friends, clients and co-workers, people he had coached in basketball, who had been neighbors.

When the two brothers reached heaven, they found each other, embraced and enjoyed the presence of the other. As they were chatting, Saint Peter approached. “Excuse me, someone told me that the two of you are identical twins. Is that true?”

The brothers looked at each other, one still a reflection of the other, amazed that anyone would have to ask. In unison they replied, “yes, we are twins.”

“You may find it an odd question, but here in heaven we do not see as humans do on Earth. Here, we see the heart, the soul that God created you to be. So, when twins arrive in heaven, we do not see how they are physically similar.”

The brothers pondered a moment, then the younger asked, “Saint Peter, could you tell me if I lived my life as God had created me to live?”

Saint Peter stared at the younger brother. Then he said, “wait here a moment” and disappeared.

Soon after Saint Peter returned, with God himself. “Hello boys, it is so good to see you both,” God said, arms outstretched, inviting the twins into his arms, as a father might do with young children.

As they embraced their Father-God, the Maker and Creator of all things, they felt something that was beyond words. It was love, and acceptance and approval and pride. They felt the very assurance that they had lived their lives in a way that way pleasing to God. Both brothers felt so good in that moment, they both felt they were receiving the pleasure of their God for having lived lives for him.

The younger brother, still somewhat uncertain, looked up at God and asked, “how is it that I could feel that you are as pleased with the life I offered to you as the life my brother offered? He was the one who never allowed himself to marry, to have a family. He was the one who spoke your name around the world, and to millions of people who gave their lives to you. How could my sacrifice be as good?”

God looked, from one brother to the other, smiling at what he could see … beyond the identical outer layer.

“The two of you have been born twice to me, once from your mother’s womb and I breathed the breath of life into your lungs. The second time was when you chose to accept my love and grace, receiving the redemption that only I can give.

I look at you and your brother and see that you both fulfilled the mission I placed in front of you. I do not see numbers of people, I see pure hearts, loving sons, men who each did their best. The two of you are my sons who I love, not for what you have done, but because you are my sons, because you have invited me to be in your lives.”

At this God paused, looking deep into the eyes of this younger twin, “you, my son, have been faithful with what I placed in your life … the people, the opportunities, the resources, the time. Well done, good and faithful servant! Now, come and share your master’s happiness!” (Matthew 25:23)

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—”
Robert Frost – The Road Not Taken

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When the day is as dark as night.
Give thanks to the Lord.
When the pieces of life are strewn near and far.
Give thanks to the God of gods.
When the silence is deafening to your ears, your heart.
Give thanks to the Lord of lords …

His love endures forever.

When anger, and sadness, and fear dominate.
Give thanks to the one whose love endures.
When pain is inside, outside, everywhere.
Give thanks to the one whose love endures.
When the answers are no, nothing.
Give thanks to the one whose love endures …

forever.

To him who shows us wonders,
who showed his majesty in his creation,
who showed his wisdom in all that he made,
who showed his details in the little things of all that live,

only his love endures forever.

To him who is still leading his people through
the wilderness, the storms, the mountains and valleys …

forever.

“He remembered us in our low estate
His love endures forever.
and freed us from our enemies.
His love endures forever.
He gives food to every creature.
His love endures forever.

Give thanks to the God of heaven.
His love endures forever.”

(Psalm 136:23-26)

*a re-writing of Psalm 136 … a collaboration between the Psalmist and I

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Grief is awkward … grieving is hard work.

Something that I have never felt that I have done well is to support people when someone dies. Sure I have delivered a casserole, muffins or cookies. I have sent a greeting card (okay … I have thought about it … e v e r y time, but rarely done it). I have gone to the funeral home. I attended celebrations of life and funerals. I have whispered and messaged that I am praying (and, if I said it, I really did do it).

But, I never felt like any of that made a bit of difference …

… then my dad died

  • and the messages poured in through social media, text and email.

Each note and message were read and received with heart-felt appreciation. This may seem to be the easy way out, but they are not … those short communications (even the emojis) can be the reminders that you do not walk death’s valley alone.

  • and people showed up at my mum’s house, with meals, hugs and listening ears

Each knock at the door brought someone with something … even those whose hands were empty, for their physical presence brought support and they left carrying part of our burden. The meals erased a need to sustain ourselves, the meals that arrived ready for the freezer alleviated the need to think of tomorrow … for the day at hand had enough to fill a muddled brain.

  • and people poured into the funeral home to pay respects to our family and to honor the memory of our father, husband, grandfather, friend.

We spent an afternoon and evening receiving guests who shared in our loss, our sorrow. Honestly, at times it felt like a family reunion and there was more laughter than tears. Apparently a saying of ancient Egyptians is “to speak the name of the dead is to make him live again” and those who came to the visiting hours or wake, at the funeral home spoke his name and reminded us that the living and life of our loved one had an impact and that impact lives on, even in the face of death.

  • and people gathered with us at the funeral, supporting us as we came face to face with the reality of the finality of death.

No one ever wants to go to a funeral, fewer want to participate in a funeral (pallbearers, music leaders, participants), fewer still want to be bidding a loved one adieu at a funeral. To a family member or loved one of a deceased, such participation does not go ignored, unappreciated. They know you don’t want to be there … believe me, their wish to not having to be there is even greater.

  • and people gave cards and made donations to charities in honor of our loved one.

The day after the funeral my mom and I read through the number of greeting cards and donations made to charities. Some to the one we suggested, some to other organizations. It truly did feel good that our loss could bring gain to organizations and charities, through donations made by others.

  • and then there were flowers.

Flowers were delivered from workplaces, brightening the foreboding funeral box, centered on the far wall of the funeral home room. When I returned home they arrived from near and far, with short notes offering love, prayers and support. Their beauty and the thoughtfulness they represented provided a gentle home for weary eyes, reminders that beauty still exists, even in the darkness of grief.

  • and it continues.

Still, messages arrive in the inbox, sometimes from friends, but also from family, who have learned (the hard way) that to hold each other up is to keep our own heads above the tides of grief. My mom has a neighbor who faithfully prows and shovels her driveway and walk. Her brother picks up her mail, takes her to appointments, drops by, regularly, for tea. Visits and calls still happen, offers of drives to church, errands. Whispers of “you are in my prayers.”

Death is so awkward, because it and the grieving of it can take so many forms. Death is so awkward, because it will visit each one of us … un-welcomed, unplanned and life-changing. But, through this recent visit, I have learned that any efforts made by others to cheer, sustain and support those grieving do not go unnoticed or unappreciated. As a matter of fact they are the oxygen masks for those gasping for the breath of life.

So, if you’re ever unsure if what you might offer someone in the midst of grief is valuable … just do it.

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I think we all celebrate the end of the struggle … but, after the celebration …

now what?

How long does the celebrating last? days? hours? minutes? seconds? I guarantee, the celebration doesn’t last as long as you might think.

In talking about The Scaffolding of our Quest, I shared the following verses:

  • “You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might” (Deut. 6:4-5).
  • I am the Lord your God…you shall have no other gods before me.” (Deut. 5:6-7)

In the video, below, you will hear,

  • “he (God) should be your first relationship that you cannot neglect”

In talking about Mountain Climbing Tales, I shared the value of of how telling the story of our mountain climb might be what another needs to hear to help them survive their own mountain.

In the video you will hear,

  • “a lesson learned should be a lesson shared”

As I was starting to write the blog series about what we do after climbing the mountain, after walking through the valley, after the struggle, I watched the following video, smiling broad as I heard each point … for they were so similar to what I was thinking, where I was heading.

Today, this is what I am sharing. After the struggles, the now whats, even after the exciting seasons in our lived there is a point where, once it is over we are all faced with what to do with our sixteenth second.

“Have no regrets in the sixteenth second.”

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When we moved to British Columbia I was introduced to mountain climbing … okay, not like real mountain climbing, with ropes and crampons and carabiners … more like a hike, with a backpack, water, snacks and a camera.

Growing up on the East Coast of Canada I had encountered rolling hills that showcase the beauty of autumns foliage and the great big sky. Here on the Pacific Northwest one often only has to open their door to be reminded of their grandeur and how they hog the horizon.

It isn’t until you have encountered a real mountain that one learns to climb.

Lately I have been writing about what to do once a season of wandering, of climbing steep and rugged mountains in the form of struggles, sorrows and other difficulties, through a series starting with now what.

Once we have managed to get to the other side of the mountain climb, it is tempting to keep moving forward and not ever glance back at the climb that you survived.

But, that climb of ours might be just the story of encouragement that a fellow mountain climber might need to hear. Our sorrows and struggles might just be the hand on the small of the back of one who believes that they simply cannot go on.

When I look at the past few years in my life and the lives of those closest to me, there is a trail of hurt, life-altering illness, job loss, depression and instability that touched every area of our lives. I have referred to that season as annus horribilis (as QEW did in 1992) or horrible year, but it would be more accurate to refer to it not as one year, but years.

As I look back at that time, I could have lived in fear … for the possibilities for hope were nowhere in sight. Yet, during that time, I was surrounded by a bubble-wrap-like peace … a peace that surpasses human understanding.

Was I secured because of my closeness to God? was it because I am always faithful to him? A resounding, NO.

That peace was beyond my knowledge, beyond my means, beyond my deserving … or, more accurately, my lack of deserving. It was and is a peace that is available to all. I was, quite literally, at the end of myself, my abilities, my knowledge.

It was because there was nothing within me that could do anything, that I had just trust the only one who could.

There were no voices in the middle of the nights, no message in the clouds, no ghostly touch on my shoulder … just peace … that surpassed my understanding.

I would be driving to work, or laughing with a student about a math problem, or cleaning the toilets, or making dinner and I would stop, amazed that I was still standing, still breathing, still functioning. Chaos was swirling around me, from every side, and yet … I felt peace.

Don’t get me wrong, I also shed buckets of tears, I lost my temper with loved ones, I resented individuals and I begged for mercy … yet, I felt peace.

My very real mountain taught me how to climb. Though I did not ask for it, did not want it, would not like to ever climb it again … I learned, oh how I learned.

Sometimes we climb great mountains and never fully understand why they were put in our way, why we were forced to sacrifice so much. Maybe it was so that we could know peace that is beyond our understanding, so that we can share that peace with others, just heading up the mountain.

“Then you will experience God’s peace,
which exceeds anything we can understand.
His peace will guard your hearts and minds
as you live in Christ Jesus.”
Philippians 4:7

Even when I don’t see it, You’re working
Even when I can’t feel it, You’re working
You never stop, You never stop working
way maker
miracle worker
promise keeper
light in the darkness
my God, that is who you are

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It was quiet … too quiet … something was missing.

I love a snow day … alway have, always will. The buzz of colleagues and friends texting, listening to weather reports, watching for emails, scrolling through social media for posts declaring that Mother Nature, local meteorologists, school administrators … God himself has hit the pause button for the day.

This particular day, though sweet, was quiet.

I spent time writing, shovelled snow, bid hubby farewell as he ventured off to work. It was so quiet … I started a jigsaw puzzle, listened to an online sermon, the news, music.

Then I saw it,

and I knew what was missing.

My dad.

He loved snow. When they would have snow days at the school in his community, he would email, message or post weather reports to me (always along with an invitation to move back to the East Coast, from the West). When I would have snow days, he would send celebratory messages as well.

This particular day, I felt the disquieting quiet of his absence from life … another loss that follows death.

So I rose from my seat and sought my recipe book.

Just a week prior I found a cherished poem from my dad to one of my own kids, along with his (famous) biscuit recipe.

He wrote poems, my dad. Little story-telling rhyming verses … just like his mom did. They were so common throughout my life … now I wish I had kept them all, so that I could pour over them, laugh and weep through them.

you never know what gift is precious until the one who gave it is gone

I gathered the ingredients that he always used (including the terribly unhealthy Fluffo shortening that he said was imperative) and set myself to work, following each direction, hearing his advice between each line of the recipe … throwing in a few tears for good measure.

I rolled out the dough, careful not to handle it too much. I cut out each biscuit, the final bit of dough formed into the coveted ‘hot dog’ (that everyone fought for, because it was the biggest). Then, into the preheated oven they went, until the tops were starting to brown, but only just a bit.

I took a picture to share with my family, who would fully understand …

Then I ate one … and whispered,

happy snow day, dad.

Snow days and the changes that follow death … they are part of life, a life that was so good it leaves quiet pauses.

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now what?

Two simple words. How do they sound?

now what?
said in anger, bitterness … to someone who has caused hurt?

now what?
said to oneself … in search of what to do next?

now what?
said in sadness, loneliness … feeling directionless?

now what?
said in hyperactive anticipation, ready for anything?

You and I might be saying in one, all or another way. In the process of life there are numerous now what? moments of question, pondering. When the storms and struggles, when we are climbing the mountains, walking through the valleys the words now what? might roll off our tongues daily.

But what about after the climb, the struggle, the wandering is done? When we have reached the end of the hard road and we can, once again take a deep, lung-cleansing breath.

If, the best view comes after the hardest climb … if we have entered the promised land after our wandering … if we are finally able to rest …

now what?

In my original post, now-what, I spoke of how my recognition that the climb through a struggle was complete left a lull, a void where the struggle had been. I mentioned that this lull left me feeling fearful, unsure of what might fill it.

To be so very honest, I wondered what struggle was around the next corner.

If we look back at Deuteronomy 8 we read that Moses told the Israelites to “eat and be satisfied” (v. 10). Basically, Moses was telling them to take some time for self care. Look after their basic needs … food and drink, get some rest, make yourself at home.

Then he says,
“Be careful that you do not forget the Lord your God, failing to observe his commands, his laws and his decrees that I am giving you this day (v. 11) … otherwise … your heart will become proud and you will forget the Lord your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery” (v. 14).

Moses makes emphasis of this message not to forget the Lord your God. He reminds them of how God has provided for their very survival for these forty years. It is by his hand that they were kept safe, fed and led to their Promised Land. Moses tells them that once they have a home, earn a living, grow and purchase food … they will begin to think “my power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me” (v. 17).

It is not different today, for you and I as we rest from our previous battle, struggle and prepare to stand on our own two feet …

we need to know what we are standing on

Are we still standing on the promises of God? or are we relying on our own strength? Are we remembering our God? observing his commands? laws? decrees?

You see, whatever is around the next corner is nothing … who we hold on to in the good times is as important as who we clung to in the bad times.

The same one who held our hand, wiped our brow, and boosted us up the steep incline, as we summited the steep mountain, to see the beauty all around us wants to go with us as we begin our descent.

Whatever follows our struggle, whatever is next, we need to stand on God’s promises, because he has proven to us, in our struggles, that he will never leave us.

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Moses wrote Deuteronomy as a speech to the Israelites, including the history of their struggle prior to and during their time in the desert.

The Israelites are at the end of their wandering through the desert … forty years of wandering. Now they are about to receive the promise of their very own home, flowing with milk and honey.

Their hard struggle is almost over and they are about to see the most spectacular view … the Promised Land.

Forty years of wandering …

How old were you, forty years ago? How old will you, your child or grandchild be in forty years?

When Moses is speaking to the ‘wandering Jews’ he is not necessarily speaking to the same audience that viewed and experienced the plagues in Egypt. This audience is the children and grandchildren of those who fled Egypt, walked through the dry bed of the Red Sea. It is a new generation of wanderers.

How about your wandering? Has it been a multi-generational season of struggle and difficulty? Maybe a lifetime? Could it be a generational curse such as substance abuse (and it’s affects)? poverty? illness? fear? Or has the length of your struggle been ‘just’ a few months? a handful of years?

I remember someone talking about waiting for hip surgery. As they waited (years) they began to compensate for the hip that needing replacement, by putting more weight, more pressure on the ‘healthy’ one. Once they had the surgery, they were then put on a wait list to have the other hip replaced, for it had become weak under the stress of the compensation made for the other one.

The thing about struggles is that we compensate for our weaknesses. They have affected you … maybe in ways that you do not even know, leaving invisible (or visible) scars and bruising.

You have been living, like the Israelites, on an adrenalin high. Your body chemicals have kept you going … or they went on hiatus, leaving you to feel like bowl of jello … without the bowl.

Moses reviews the history of their wandering, pointing out where their parents and grandparents went wrong (remember the golden calf) and challenging them to be different … for they would get to receive the promise made between God and their ancestors. He tells them that their wandering has had a refining purpose.

You have been refined through your struggle, your wandering. You have developed muscle and strength that could only have been gained through your experience. The effort was not without gain.

He tells them, in Deuteronomy 8, what to expect in their promised land … for he will not enter those gates with them. He whets their appetites for all the good that awaits … on the other side.

Anticipation for the end of the journey has been created … then they, like we who have come to the end of our struggle, will ask … now what?

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After the storms have passed, after we have summited the mountains? Then … do we dare to ask now what?

I suggested we read Deuteronomy 8. I read it, then I listened to it … a couple of times. It amazed me what I heard that I missed when I was reading the words quietly to myself.

Deuteronomy is a book that instructs us about work and rest, relationships, leadership and justice. An interesting combination of subjects that impact all of our lives.

There are two messages or themes in Deuteronomy:

  1. “You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might” (Deut. 6:4-5).
  2. I am the Lord your God…you shall have no other gods before me.” (Deut. 5:6-7)

We need to keep these in mind as we read the book, as we read chapter 8.

When we go through difficult times we often cling to God, to his word. It is when the struggles are the most intense that we cry out to him, recognizing how helpless we are without him. It is easy and natural to love him with our everything, to have no other gods. Though this is not always the case, for when we struggle the most is often when we cry out why God?

then again, maybe asking God why is a sign that we love do love him alone, for he is who we ask, confirming our trust of him.

God has broad shoulders … he can carry such heavy questions … it is not a sign of spiritual weakness to ask God the tough questions. He wants us to ask, to cry out, to wag our finger at him … because he knows our thoughts already and he knows the heart behind them.

So, we haven’t really gotten into Deuteronomy 8 yet (this is how my brain works), but we know two important themes for all of Deuteronomy:

  1. “You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might” (Deut. 6:4-5).
  2. I am the Lord your God…you shall have no other gods before me.” (Deut. 5:6-7)

This is the beginning of our search for an answer to now what? after the tough mountain has been climbed, now what?

Keep reading Deuteronomy 8. Try listening to it.

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