I Will Remember You… Will You Remember Me?

 I awoke this morning with these words from the Sarah McLachlan song by that title. Coming from basically a musical family of sorts, it is not something new. Quite often down through the years, or at least the past 47 years of married life, my wife and I will often comment that there has been a song on our minds and in our hearts, only to find out it is the very same song. Strangely, I have never found that to be in the least bit odd. We had been a musical couple for many years until our voices began to give out. Medical problems can creep in and change how we live life and musical ability and our voices can be part of the loss. No matter the trauma it may cause there still remains that love for harmony, a deep appreciation for both lyrics and melody and the peace gained from allowing ourselves to be immersed in its beauty. I digressed… or did I?

 Most will know if you have reached those golden years when you begin to rehearse life, that memories can lead us down a fascinating path some days. In retirement, I have had more time to begin to fathom out those things which were real and others which were perhaps no more than wishful thinking. Psychologists have identified 7 different types of memory which help us to both reflect on our pasts, and recollect moments which have shaped our lives. They range from childhood influences to motor skills allowing us to walk, talk and process ideas, based on experiences found in life. These days many are more concerned about the two basic and best known of our memory labels outside of those 7 psychological identities. They are our long and short-term memories.

 I began to worry about my memory some years ago. There were and are days where I have trouble carrying on a decent conversation without struggling for what seems like the simplest of words. I have always struggled with names. I can remember being warned not to identify someone as I was being approached perhaps while shopping in a mall out of town. I might blurt out a name and have it totally wrong embarrassing both the person and myself in the calamity of the situation. Yet, I also find that like so many others who reflect on the passing of years; I begin to meander down through the history of my life while reflecting on my journey and where it has led me. I mentioned the importance of two factors in localized memory reality and wishful thinking. The later, being wishful thinking can be broken down into two segments, the first being what we wished had happened and the other what we perceived has happened. Thus we have to be careful how are memories are interpreted, it that is where we begin to go with all that. I digressed… Yup! I did!

 I am not a person to visit graveyards. There is a stipulation on that comment I must admit. I have a fascination with family history and in some contexts, I wish to visit either personally or virtually (“Find a Grave.com”) and revisit the lives of family members, in a genealogical context. I have often told those searching for family history that after 3-4 generations, much of the history becomes clouded by miss-information due to poor records or error in transcription. But, I do visit is the point, on occasion. A big moment in the life of our family at times has been on November 11^th. We have been taking our family wreaths to the local graveyard and placing them in memory of those who have served or have been lost in the conflicts to protect our freedom.

 I have taken time to reflect of late (and perhaps over the last decade) on how we remember those whose lives have touched us; the members of immediate family, close friends and acquaintances that became important factors in the shaping of our lives. Have you had occasion in life to be touched by someone who has had little in association with your path in life, previous to a single contact, yet something clicked like a switch turning you onto a new route, down a new search? Yes, many will not admit or perhaps realize it has happened, but it does. I think about those things and wonder if life had been so much different had I lived differently, paid closer attention to the factors that shaped me and less attention to what could be. I admit freely at this juncture that there were times when I wanted more, sometimes searched for more, but mostly found contentment in being invisible. I have admitted in the past that there is much reality in the introvert being tugged into positions where extroversion becomes a necessary element of the job. Being truly shy by nature, I had to learn to step up and do the job and this can lead to places where our comfort level is taxed and it exacts a cost that most times cannot be recovered.

What do we choose to remember, can be a constant irritation while on the other hand comfort to others. My memories are mine until I choose to rehearse them in one manner or another. The odd part of the exercise in writing this blog through the years has been my personal evaluation of its importance to both family and others. I have hesitated for months of late to even begin to put thoughts to print wondering about the relevance in terms of readership and historical value to the family. The truth is I have come down to this decision; I write for the same reason my Mom did, that being personal satisfaction in presenting my thoughts as an outlet of critical analysis of events, moments and personal insights.

For many who read my blog, I am just another writer who has or thinks he has something worth sharing and they read to satisfy curiosity. To others, I may be a moment of inspiration when my meagre attempt at life’s journey sparks a reflective moment for them. It matters not really, for it is my journey, my exercise, my attempt at settling my own mind on where my heart is going at the time of inspiration. But, I remember…

 I was told once that my thoughts were being recorded. I cried, not from anxiety, but from two emotions that were stirred at that moment. A literal stranger at the time cared enough to have a file of mere thoughts and words projecting who I am, while immediate family, for the most part, would rather not take to time to read the ramblings recorded in a life journal. Sarah McLachlan penned the words which rang in my mind this morning, for reasons that only she will know. But, the words of that song elicit meaning which is as varied as they are many and their interpretation can be as personal as the individual reading or hearing them. I want to remember. I want to remember with joy in my heart, but somehow may days it is laced with sadness, for the thing which I cannot change. I want to remember the truth, not memories laced with circumstance and stress, which often change both a perception of events and sally the honesty of the moments being remembered. I want to be both kind and honest in how I remember; life does not always deal us, as the saying goes, “the hand we want” but gives us the “hand we are dealt”!

 I remember the significance of moments, there I wade through the timelines of events and I see the faces of those who have had both positive and negative effects on my life. Some I must love; others I just love and most others are found under the umbrella of a cast of characters encountered along life’s journey. It is not my call to erase someone from memory; it is God’s command that I love as I have been loved... Love without dissimulation and that is difficult. Sometimes it is best to love from a distance and that is both unsettling and a hardship that I have decided to bear. Life’s elements of relational interaction do not always come with a guarantee and space is best in those cases. Do I want life in those circumstances to be different…? Absolutely! But I need peace and the only avenue for true peace is that which we gain from Christ the maker and giver of all peace.

Most who read will not know me… that is a given, considering the readership. Those who do know me or just read my blog, here’s the take on today’s thought… You are important, you are of value, and you do make a difference… You are loved! How far we take those elements of our personhood depends on our interaction with life and those around us, including those we meet in whatever venue we are afforded day today. Yesterday, I was reminded of a person I knew in my teen years. He became a friend year’s later on social media. We have not maintained a close friendship, yet we are identified as friends. We are Brothers in Christ and as he is hurting; my heart hurts with him. My joy is to pray for him, his family and those will care for him during this dark moment in his journey. You see, memory can be an odd portion of our lives… I am reminded that his lot is the lot of many, and many prayed for our own son in his darkest hours.

 I will remember you… will you remember me? It is not just a few words from a lyric with both hidden and practical meaning; it may be a wake-up call for each of us to take time to be aware of what is happening in the “now”! Life can be hectic and we close both our minds and our hearts to what is all around us. Take time to smell the roses, enjoy both sunrise and sunset, be aware of both the joys and woes of others for one day “you” may need the awareness of others and most of all remember this… you are loved! I would never be an advocate, proclaiming the importance of wallowing in other’s sorrow, but just be reminded that the pain of others needs our attention, most importantly in prayer. Take time to pray, and in thanksgiving give praise where it is due… It is found in God’s love for you and others.

 Life is a journey to the edge. Today, my journey has been quite unexpected, yet it affords me an opportunity once again to reflect on where my memories lead, how it affects me daily and why it is important to manage interpretation in light of experiences and circumstances in life. I am not always comfortable with the edge, even though it may seem so at times. God takes me there to remind me as He did Paul… If I am in control, He can’t be and that is a downfall we all entrap ourselves in, in life. So as always the fear of being near the edge is normal, but it is a matter of how we define the view from there. Be blessed and I will remember… will YOU?

A Simple Act of Kindness

I don’t remember “everything” about the daily routines of all the pastorates I have served. One particular stop in the journey was in Weymouth, NS. It was a 3-point charge; meaning that I served 3 churches (which meant I had 3 services per Sunday.) It was my first big challenge, but I knew that if I was to work in rural Nova Scotia, I must be prepared to have that type of situation. My previous ministries were in single congregations, but I felt so strongly the call on my life, that after some pleading from a dear retired pastor on that field, I moved to this my first 3 church field.

I will never forget my first day in the pulpit after all the dust of interviews, meetings and moving had settled. I began my rotation around the field (pastorate) in a lovely little church with folks that took their time to welcome me and my family, but then rushed off to my second church. 

 It was a small but majestic building, reminding me that there was an anchor for Christ in this tiny community. The congregation was also small in number, and elderly in terms of being well over the average of 65. I remember wondering what I might do to not just salvage this ministry, but enliven it for Christ. The shared feeling in this congregation was different than that of the other two on the field, I was to find out later. It seemed that there was an abiding sense of the end, knowing that without an injection of youth, the work of active ministry there would be very difficult. In the work of promoting growth in the 20^th century, it was a well-known fact that you needed programs to both interest and excite youth, or otherwise be ready to gear your focus only on ministry to seniors. This would also involve involvement in programs and there was no hope of that level movement to be found there.

But, was ministry there something that I could accomplish? I have to face the truth these days, as reflect on those days in fulltime ministry... this congregation was in the last throes of survival mode.  It is not always easy to look at oneself and be reminded that I was overwhelmed, outgunned and felt very alone in ministry those years. I did have a few “shining stars” that kept me breathing, but in the words of a dear friend, “I knew that they would drive you away!”, I still considered myself a failure in that one small congregation. That same person, who cried as he spoke those words, was a mentor, a prayer warrior and a dear, dear person. He had known the hardships of trying to hold the reigns of a ministry doomed to a slow steady death, and he wanted me to know that he understood.

I had reached the church that first morning and was greeted by a few eager elderly people and introduced once again, my wife and family, being those still living at home. One small lady, not clambering to be first to greet us stood back having a hint of a smile, and a very kind face, awaiting her turn to say “Hi”. Having made all the introductions we began the service. As I mounted the stage to the pulpit I was met with a card and a glass of water. The name was simply written and conveyed a message that both reminded me of why I was there and gave heart to this somewhat shaky preacher. It was a simple act of kindness that lasted each Sunday while I was there. If that lady was ill, or away, someone was instructed to provide a glass of water for “our minister”!

There have been others who provided water for the “thirsty preacher” down through the years, but never on a regular, unsolicited timetable like the dedication that Phyllis put into that act. We often speak of “comfort food”, but do we ever identify a glass of water as such I wonder? I did! Why would a simple glass of water bring comfort you may ask! It may seem strange to many, but I am an introvert, I have always been very shy and always had to battle to overcome, just to survive. People always laugh at me when I confess that hidden secret, but it is something I have battled since my childhood. It took years in study and preparation toward helping others that I understood why. That glass of water said, “There is someone here today that values your presence and is caring for your needs!”  

That sweet lady was a widow, living alone, caring for her pets and those who entered into her field of interest. He full name doesn’t really matter in the big scheme of life, but I am going to insert a picture here of my friend, and for those who did know her, they will both recognize her face and remember her kindnesses. 

Phyllis was a welcoming person when I visited her in her home. On several different occasions, we chatted about quilts, her knitting and she always asked about my wife Karen and children. I will never forget going to visit Phyllis that the last time before leaving Weymouth. She seemed truly saddened by my news and as I offered to return her mug, even though she had told me that last Sunday to take it with me. Her kind answer was simply this, “Perhaps you will think of me when you use it”.

It started out as a simple act of kindness and continued in my ministry as a reminder that there is always the hand of Christ being offered in the midst of struggle and a feeling of defeat. I was not happy leaving that pastorate, there were many reasons to stay, but I felt the call of God on my life to be nearer my own family and ageing parents. It may have been seen only as an exit from trial, but it was also a joyful reminder as well that God has a plan for all that we do.

A small cup of water; more than a mere drink to quench a thirst, a reminder that those we least expect are being the love of Christ in the midst of our journey. It doesn’t seem like much, I am sure, this plain glass mug!

Yet, it is at the forefront of our kitchen cupboards; I use it 3 or more times daily, and it is exclusively for “my” use only. Does that seem odd perhaps?  Not at all! I remember Phyllis and her small act of kindness every time I put that mug to my lips. My wife tends it gently as she washes our dishes and I dry it carefully and put it back on its shelf to be used again, and again, and again… perhaps until I can no longer grasp it in my arthritic hands.

I know that this is not the most exciting bog that I have written, but here’s the deal… We all need to remember that it only takes one small act of kindness, with the right motives promoting it, and it can make a huge difference in someone’s life. I was being loved and I knew it, and that means so much to me as I look back over years of ministry. She is but one dear person who has helped make a difference; there actually have been many, but Phyllis’s mug is here with me every day, and I give thanks for this sweet lady’s small act of kindness! This is not just about living near the edge, I know… this was a cup of comfort I found while living there during that time.

Be a blessing to someone… it won’t harm your image, it doesn’t need to cost a huge amount of time or money. Just love in a way that suits who you are, but do it with sincerity of heart and purpose… That is what Phyllis did for me and that cup reminds me of that each day!

Staring At the Mirror

I wasn’t very old when my Dad held me up in front of the mirror and I saw the reflection of his face and mine next to one another. I don’t remember what went through my mind at the time, I only remember the event. It likely was a proud moment for both of us, or that is what I like to think. My Dad was not young when he married and began to have children. There was a 40+ year age difference in our ages and as I look back through the picture of my childhood, my Dad already looked beyond his age. Perhaps it was the sudden care of children placed upon his life, or perhaps it was the life he had lived through, with the Second World War only about 10 years past.

It is hard to believe what one goes through in life. Generations, following World War II, lived through different circumstances, different challenges, and with many different environments, in which to learn life, than those of perhaps the previous 35 years. Each generation feels the strain of change, though some take it all in their stride almost seeming indifferent to it all. Perhaps it may be easy for certain sectors of society to just accept and move on. Some say we show the signs of life in our face. Mom used to talk about “crow’s feet”, frown lines and try to discourage us from making faces, stating that our faces would grow to keep that shape. Much of that was good humour, but we soon learn that there was a level of truth to the weight of life leaving its mark on our look overall.

No two people react the same way to the variations in life that are cast upon them.  I have heard stories surrounding the great depression. While some were not able to cope and exited life, others pulled up their roots and followed the rails, the trails and their instincts to get work wherever it might be gotten. Some say that today’s generation does not know the true meaning of “hard times”, yet we must remember that we can’t compare bicycles and aerospace modules. While physical exhaustion due to hard labour was common during the early years of the 1900s, new exhaustion, due to mental stresses, became a very trying phenomenon for sociologists to reconnoitre. The acceptance of Post-traumatic stress, like many of the socially debated disorders of this past century, has helped in the understanding of many major health issues.

So what of the impact on the human personae? I wish I could state that time has changed the outcome, but it has not. Even with all the magic potions, creams, elixirs and health aides, we have little or no control over how it all turns out. In my own experience, I was athletic, but it did not stop me from having teenage rheumatic fever and only a few years later a collapsed lung. These two health issues totally changed both my capabilities and my possibilities. It didn’t slow me down too much, but it has made a difference in how I view my health to a certain extent, and how my family doctor views my issues. No amount of lifestyle and diet, I am told, would have made a change in what had happened. One issue was due to a bacterial infection, the other was a freak accident, but nevertheless, at one level or another, they were life-changing to say the least.

So, as it turned out, one day I needed a shave. Now there is a mystery to behold. I have a brother who “needed” to shave at 13, yet I was only finally was able to begin a moustache at 30; to this day nearly 40 years later, I cannot grow a beard. There I stood, and for whatever reason I stared at the reflection for a few minutes, trying to decide if I really needed to go to all that trouble. It suddenly occurred to me that the man in the mirror looked much older than the last time I took a moment to make a full evaluation. It bothered me; it really did! I turned on my heel and walked away… later, I noted my graduation pic on the wall… I honestly felt like crying! A defining moment in front of a mirror had also made changes in my self-definition.

Looking back over the years since I sometimes chuckle at how personally I took that moment of revelation. I would like to say that I took a deep breath and got on with life, but that was not the case.  For several months I shuffled aimlessly through the needs, the choices and the expectations of living. When God gets ahold of your pride, He sometimes shakes it up a little to see where you are in your relationship with him. I was reminded that St. Paul once asked God to remove his thorn in the flesh, and after being denied he learned to lean more fully on He sustains beyond our ability. Looking to God in times of distress, rather than on our own strength, courage and skills, is the only way to survive this life. Now having said that, it is God who gives the courage to move on from there.

Could I look in the mirror, someone is asking? Oh yes, I could and I did and each time I gazed at that ageing person staring back at me I remembered that I had earned or at least accepted every grey hair and wrinkle that I saw. The truth was that these manifestations of my growing old neither debilitated nor negated my zest for life. I have always been a dreamer. Perhaps it would be better to state that I can envision something in its near entirety. That is not to say that I am clairvoyant, I am merely able to see a structure take shape, what a boat will look like from a plan and see something take shape from a piece of wood that I have begun to carve. Some call it artistic ability, others call it stupidity (only with a lack of being able to sense that gift for oneself I believe).

Has life drawn more energy from my body; has more stress than I can handle congealed into fissures that remodel my facial image with stress lines and Mom’s famous “crow’s feet”? Perhaps so; life does not afford us a day pass very often. There are very few get out of this stressful situation “free cards” given out throughout life. Is there some magic that happens to make it not only worthwhile but at least tenable, this journey into middle age and further? Of course, there is. I was reminded the other day, as I was listing the arthritic parts of my body during an area of a low-pressure system that was over our heads, that I was not in a wheelchair, didn’t need a walker or a cane, so why get too upset. It is hard to question the sage in the family, who while putting up with me now for nearly half a century, has lovingly been my cheerleader, faithful support staff and my constant prayer warrior.

Have you looked in the mirror of late? Do you take time to look at the forest and not just the trees? You know what I mean… the overall perspective not just the stubble, the shape of the eyebrows or that embarrassing evidence of drool from last night’s dreams! Who is that person in the mirror? What is different about who that person has become? Perhaps the answer is not to be found in the negative sense of our becoming something less, but in our refining toward something more! We always have choices. One may be to accept the limitations of aging; the other may be to use them in different avenues of choice options. I was once told that you can most often do at 70 what you were able to accomplish at 30, it just takes 2-3 times longer. While true for some things, it is not true for all.

We can spend time feeling sorry for ourselves, mopping up what is left of life, but it is far more productive to get off the pity bench and sit in the orchestra pit!

I walk near the edge. I still rush into projects and sometimes I do fail. I find comfort in those things I know and can share, but still, I rejoice in that which I am capable of accomplishing on a daily basis. I am not sure how wrinkled up I will be at 100, but wouldn’t it be nice to plan to be there. I tease an older friend of mine and remind him that he “has” to be at my 100^th b-day party and he is in his 80’s! Why bother you ask! Here is the skinny on that one. I agree with the person who stated that they would rather wear out than rust out and while old age is said to be golden, but it often shows signs of oxidation (rust) I choose to err on the side of the former and shall wear out.

Don’t wait for tomorrow to decide to start living… do it now. You are still breathing; you are reading this crazy man’s blog aren’t you? You don’t even have to look in the mirror; just begin to leap tall buildings, pick flowers along a remote babbling brook or take that world tour that you always planned to take, yet never found the time. Some will remember my true story of the dear lady leaping 6 feet over demarcations on the floor. She had been in a wheelchair for perhaps 10 years as a double amputee, but she was in her mind, leaping like a teenager and laughing out loud. Don’t be limited by a few wrinkles, a few aching joints, a voice saying quietly, “Now should you be doing that?” If your body and mind can stand the activity, then run with the wind;  even from a wheelchair or perhaps while confined to your bed. 

Walking near the edge is different for sure. It can be scary, it can be challenging in any case, but the view from there can be devastatingly lovely. After all, mirrors cannot reflect more than the mere façade of our being, and you are much, much more than a mere reflection. May God richly bless your journey as you take those hesitant steps! You are not alone, God is there beside you. When you think you no longer can, God takes over and you will wonder at how you were capable of accomplishing some of the most impossible tasks. Then, you will be standing near the edge… look at you! You are a force to be dealt with… a child of the King!

To Everything, there is A Season

Eccl 3:1 “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: “

This sometimes familiar quote is used when relating to the various seasons of life. While a child, I heard it quoted on many occasions, especially in the context of our Sunday school classes. Those were the days! I was one of those rascals who loved Sunday school and the opportunity to find some mischief to get into most of the time. While I was never destructive, I likely could be disruptive at times. It may have been due to those early years in life that I was labelled as a maverick or a little later on a radical, by some. That is not unheard of in small rural settings, when a lad is over rambunctious, though well-meaning in most cases. The question on people’s minds these days might be, “Has he grown out of it?”

Well, perhaps it stands well within the reaches of that quote in this case. I used to think that life just droned on and somewhere down the line it would just come to its end. I wish I could say that I was always happy in my work, but that is not the case for me. It may seem odd for me to be thinking about such things, and for certain to be writing about it now, yet perhaps I need to face the reality of what life brings and my own unpreparedness in the middle of its flow toward fruition. This is to say that even though I may be far from that point yet, I do see an end in sight! I’ve not always been prepared!

One might question whether anyone is truly prepared. My oldest daughter stated a few weeks ago, “Dad you have re-invented yourself so many times I don’t know how you’ve kept track of it all!” There have been moments when I questioned both my reasoning and my sanity when confronted by a process to make the next decision on the direction in life. I have always tried to make those life changes based on two things; 1^st what is it that God wants me to do? And 2^nd what effect will this have on my family. I wish I could say that there was never a time that I strayed from that formula, but that would not be true. Sometimes we just fall down; exhausted by life, bent by the weight of stresses and expectation and we forget to look into God’s eyes before we look outward to the world.

I’ve been asked why “that” scripture quote held so many negative samples of life being lived. For instance, those that cause the most unrest for the reader seem so “unlikely” to be found in Biblical instruction for our uplifting. The situational irony of words perhaps directs our thoughts away from what is being presented. A popular theme in quotes is; “We don’t always get what we want…” tries to direct us to the idea that sometimes it gets us where we “need to be”… and while it may seem unpleasant at the time, if accepted in humility, may bring growth in both spirit and wisdom. So while falling down, falling short and missing the mark is not satisfying, doing so brings us to another season in life.

At this juncture in life, I am facing death at many levels. Years ago, as I was training for ministry in University, I took courses on “Death and Dying”. At first glance, the syllabus seemed quite straight forward. Perhaps I was wearing rose-coloured glasses, but I was expecting only to be prepared for the work with those who had lost loved ones, as part of ministry. As it turned out, death has many faces and can be identified under many labels. We know that at the ending of life comes death, that is a given, but to identify other indicators, being faced as death, brings a whole new understanding to the seasons of life.

In opening up new avenues of direction in life, there is always the unknown to be considered. Yet, how many of us do not take the time for examination, reflection and preparation for the work to be undertaken. In life we are expected to be both spontaneous and prepared. While these are two very admirable traits, they do not always bear a presence in union with one another. My thoughts have often leaned heavily toward being spontaneous, but it has in the past gotten me into deep water, and over my head, while needlessly carrying the burdens of others. How do we both react on the drop of a dime, when the occasion arises and our time, energy and knowledge are called upon? Is there not something to be said for always being prepared? Yes, of course, there is! The stress comes when self-identity and self-assurance outweighs the training, experience and situational reality of the moment. Overstepping our mark, wading out into deep water, or jumping in to save someone without consideration for our own safety, is folly, yet it happens and once we are disarmed, broken and if not completely destroyed, we must face a new season in life.

In taking on that course, I reflected many times on how life challenges us all with the varying circumstances that we may not be prepared for at all. I was faced to look at such matters as divorce, loss of job, retirement, being uprooted due to the need to move, and even the empty-house syndrome which some suffer from, just to mention a few. I know that having to say goodbye is the hardest. I’ve always thought that one could be prepared both mentally and spiritually, but that is not always the case. In saying goodbye to our children, as an example, as they went off to university and college for training towards life’s work; there was an emptiness that we tried to disguise with new plans for their rooms and jokes surrounding new freedom in life. But, it was merely the beginning of a new season, restlessness in some areas of everyday life, which took years to understand and accept.

Normalcy changes, when illness and the unknown creeps in; waves of fear, regret and even anger arise within us. We don’t like to face it… it is not what we want, it is not what is expected of us, it is not within the definition of our faith in God, but it happens. You see, we are in human flesh. When we get hurt we feel the pain, when we feel pain we cry out, when we cry out any one of a number of emotions can bring us to our knees. What we do while there, makes all the difference.

Today is another day with a change of season. Another friend is gone and I HAVE HAD TO FACE that reality too many times of late. While training and experience stiffen the upper lip, my heart breaks for both the families affected by these recent deaths, and this heart once again faces my own mortality. I wish that we could all live healthy, happy productive lives well into our 90’s, but that doesn’t happen. We face the possibility of diminishing faculties in both mind and body, and how we accept that potential for the future may direct how we live in the present.

The writer of that quote above goes on to point out a rich bit of wisdom, that I shall add here in my closing thoughts:

Eccl 3:10-13  I have seen the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men, yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live.

Take time to consider how difficult your life may have been, how in times of crisis you were perhaps near being crushed, yet you did your best to put on a smiling countenance and got on with it! Many are those who will not want to reflect, having to face those realities again. Yet, we all face those moments at one time or another, and many of us on multiple occasions throughout life. It is part of the journey which always includes the ups and downs, along with those mountain-top blessings that come along. Are you stuck in the valley today? This may be your journey to the edge and you may be wondering both how you got there and how to manage the moment. I have found two things to be of help to me. You may or may not agree, but nevertheless, here they are. First and foremost, look around. I know… it is like being on a tall building and you are afraid of heights! Look around and be aware of not so much yourself but of all life surrounding you.

Somebody has said,” I was sad that I had bad knees until I saw a person with no legs!”. Ok, not exactly, but it is what I think when I get up in the mornings. We often reflect that the worst happens to us and that God has wrought his judgement on us in some curious design, to bring us down; humbled and contrite, willing to capitulate to His bidding! Oh, how the folly of that thinking gets us into trouble! In life, we need to be aware that “stuff happens”… OK… just another form of reductionism, but nevertheless there is a need to face the practical reality of our own stupidity many times. We leave out God and get left behind.

Second, we should be willing to take the next step. Stuck in mid-stride on a tall ladder, or the face of a high, sheer mountain, and having become frozen, unable to move up or down, we need to take that first step! It is hard… It is frightening… it is terrifying… but it needs to be done. We can’t walk on water, but we can depend on God to get us to safety. I’ve had to do it, so I speak with some understanding of the dynamic in external strength that can enable you to do it. Where we step though, is the key. I step back toward truth, toward wisdom, toward knowledge of what is stability… towards my faith in a God who loves me and who will see me through the deepest valleys and darkest nights.

Yes, to everything there is a season. I am not sure what is before me, but I am assured of who is with me. I have family and friends who pray, I have a solid believing Church family who cares, and most importantly a loving helpmate who reminds me daily that she is praying for me. God is good every day…. Every day God is good… in season and out of season… God is good. He has given me those blessings; He will give them to you as well… if you look to Him!

Hard Hats Required Beyond This Point!

It was something that I got used to. It was no good to argue the point, as it was merely a matter of personal safety and corporate liability. You can justify almost any personalized argument you have going on silently within, but a sharp knock on the skull can be avoided if your hard hat is on your head, should you be in under a falling object that may do damage. In the winter, as I worked on a wharf project, in my earlier years, that hard hat had a liner with ear protection from the cold. Floating on a Styrofoam raft on open, choppy, harbour frontage, drilling holes for very long bolts, one needed to be both safe and somewhat warm. But oh the sweat when winter turned into summer and that hat created a dome of suffering. No wonder so many of my construction friends were going bald… my take on the situation!

In later years, in the electrical trade, it was to be worn only on larger projects. It was a matter of personal taste on private jobs, but when contracts were being met; hard hats were required by all who… went beyond that point! One never tires of memories… or I don’t anyway. Perhaps it is the time of life that I find myself in. These past weeks have been busy with both work and company. There have been moments of required reflection, but also many of spontaneous laughter while others reminded everybody present of times gone by, and why they were of importance to them. But, like life has a way handling time, there was soon that turning the tide of laughter to the ebbing of that joy, being replaced by heartache and worry; yes those emotions have been present as well.

As I sat in church on Sunday, we were given an overview of the needs surrounding that particular community. A statement was made about the overwhelming presence of cancer these days. While disease such as cancer is scary, and may, in fact, cause death for some, there are so many other factors in life that we are just overburdened with during much of our waking hours. I have written in the past of the worries and concerns of today’s family units. Little is hidden from view with Social Media these days, giving a forum to those who are in the pain of mere subsistence. They rail out against the inconsistency and inadequacy of a government that is supposed to protect and serve us with both fairness and equality for all; now leaving them adrift in disillusionment and fear.

Today, my thoughts are on track with growing up. My childhood was blessed, no matter the negative reflections that sometimes make their way into my own heart. Evil will destroy the joy, that lives might be upset and destruction become the victor… “Hard hats required beyond this point.” I was tiny for my age; I’ve related that on other occasions. Were you tiny, too tall, a tad heavier than most, or like me needed to turn around several times to cast a shadow? Were you the person voted least likely to be Prom-queen or King of the hill in some of those childhood games? How about never being invited to the parties, last to be called on to join in, and then only when they just needed one more player so the game could go on? There are countless ways which life deals its hammering blows to our psyche and cause us to stumble, just as though we had been hit over the head with a hammer.

Wouldn’t it be great if, like those fairy tales that I pray were read to all of us in childhood, could actually be paralleled in our own lives? Some days I wallow about like “Donkey, in Shrek “, who when looking down cries, “I don’t have any toes… I think I need a hug!” I have wondered from time to time what the importance of those fairy tales was, when it seemed to me as I began to mature, that life began to shove its reality into my face, (far remote from any of the “the good guys always win!” concept of how life could be lived) and the question “why” rang louder by the day. Teenagers question everything, don’t they? Their minds are being shaped, moulded and clouded (did I just say that?) from every side. Yes, shaped by experience, molded by the first waves of ethic; first parental (hopefully moral) and then society’s oft times perverted sense of what can be done or gotten away with (perhaps more these days than in my youth!) Finally, they are clouded by the masked grey issues being tossed about, concerning their identities, need for structure and a foundation of faith.  The laissez-faire attitude of yesteryear has been replaced by a more sinister rebellion sparked by what we called in the 1980’s New Wave Philosophies.

I have found that youth need direction in their lives, they long for structure, but they battle against it. It is their nature. Built into every living creature is that desire to walk, run, fly or just know independence beyond the innate desire to survive.  Why then does there suddenly arrive that rebellious nature in most teens,  that is most often countered by a parental stubbornness, fired by hurt and angst? It is the natural progression of life!

My dear old Mom was a philosopher in her own right. Her take on life was that she would rule the roost until the rooster grew its outer feathers and began to strut. I am laughing as I write. Mom had a corner of the deck enclosed with old storm windows to protect her from those prevailing westerlies, that she called her chicken coop! She decorated it with … yup… poultry signs and she was known as the ol’ hen and Dad was the ol’ rooster (or similar label… not sure at this point… maybe I don’t want to remember! LOL).  She felt that life calls on us individually to find our way, and like the eagle that pushes the chick from the high nest to learn to fly, at some point there is that push needed for our human chicks. We may have many reasons to cling, including financial, physical and physiological ties, but there must come a time, and it shall come, whether we are ready or not.

In a conversation one day I was told, “Keep your sorrows and trials at home! Dad and I are too old to take on anyone else’s worries!” While shocked by the immediate response I got, I was finally able to consider the truth of wisdom. It was not many years later that on the turning of the tide, she said, “But we have grown to depend on your being here for us… what will we do now?”...  It is a shock on all fronts when the safety of childhood, or the support in later years shifts, leaving both worries and doubt to fix its claws into our joy!

My children know that I have worn many hats, besides the hard hats needed on construction sites. In fact, just the other day, in a conversation with the company who had dropped in for a few days, from some distance away, my daughter stated that I had re-invented myself so many times that it must be hard for me to remember them all. While the former has some level of truth, the latter leaves me wondering if I am teetering on the cusp of an invite to forced entry into a nursing home! LOL Those transitions from childhood to teenager, and on through the various levels of maturity; each carries with them the potential of their own set of trials. We enter into the zones of life where… “Hard hats are required beyond this point!” It is not enough to say that with each set of stresses comes a newfound immunity to the backlashes of life. Like the falling snow in winter, much of what we go through carries with it cumulative effects. We can’t always duck the things we see coming. Ask those in the workforce who suddenly after 23 years of work, and just short of their full pension, are given a separation notice as the plant goes into receivership, or just closes after a corporate decision to move the physical plant to a third-world country supplying cheaper labour!

Youth today are confronted by change, change that scares them, change that they are not prepared for, but change that nevertheless they have been longing for in life. Parents have to release, and yet support! They do so by either financial, if unable in any other manner, or with moral support while nudging with love, their fledgelings outward and hopefully upward to wings of success; a success that matches their calling!

It’s a tough world, no matter the position in which we stand. Joy is countered by tribulation and we duck and defend, roll and counter, or we may get hit by that which may stun or even end life if we do not wear the hard hats provided. So, is there a key to the secret of success, a definition both easy to explain and simple to carry through with, beyond the analogy used of a physical hard hat in life. Oh yes, there is. But like most of life, it involves choices.  Going to the ice cream parlour, for a triple cone on a hot day, is like inviting disaster to say the least. You know that heat will collapse that delight and still, you order it up, and are willing to take the chance.  Licking, biting and slurping to keep back the flowing tide of melting goo, you do your best to conquer the task before you! You may end up with a napkin and hands that are a bit sticky, but you’ve enjoyed the challenge and have done your best! You might have stayed home and taken some from the freezer, but where is the fun in that!!!

Going out on some limbs are just plain fun, others are just plain stupid and sometimes you find yourselves placed out there while you watch the tree being chopped down.  In any case, the limb may break. We are the recipients of the results of folly, but also that of life being brought to our door un-invited. When the door opens we have choices! Mom said when life hands you a lemon, make lemonade. Oh, the reductionism of such statements. But, is there not a tad of truth held therein?

Absolutely; the pastor said in his message, “Let it be and then be free!”  OK... another tortured attempt to side-step reductionism again that failed. No… it didn’t, not really! In churchese (the language of those who are steeped in Church terminology), the phraseology used may often need to be translated to be fully understood. There is a directive that again means little to those who are struggling, until they let go; throwing up their hands in submission, finally realizing that what is facing them is bigger than who they are, or what they are capable of. Let's consider this for a moment.

Dr. Eugene Peterson wrote a paraphrase in contemporary language of a statement that Jesus made in Matthew 11:29-30. It says: “… Walk with me and work with me… watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." Some will be more familiar with the NIV that states it this way:”… Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

I don’t know how people cope every day without either faith or hope in Christ? Some reading this will not understand, others may immediately reject, but hope in Christ adds a dynamic to the faith that otherwise may leave one reeling without direction… lost, in other words. I put on “THE HELMET OF SALVATION”… some might add “of life, hope and truth”! This is my hard hat.

That happy face is not always possible either, but as this little caricature shows, preparedness can go a long way towards a new level of joy! No matter what befalls me I am secure. I walk to the edge, sometimes beyond a reasonable comfort level out there, in service; I have in fact from time to time fallen over and once fallen hard! But, no matter what, my faith in God, in Christ my Saviour, has me living, kept me living, when I thought all hope was lost!

We spend our lives walking into those areas… the truth is, they can’t always be avoided. What do you have for protection against the storms in life? If you are just muddling along, dodging, while catching up some salves to control the open wounds, why not just stop... Yes, just stop! Is the path you are on the only path and are your needs mentally and spiritually really being met? Walk over there… over there to the edge… see not with your eyes, but with your heart… Ask these two questions… am I succeeding in what I am doing my way and the second, Lord, will you help me surrender if I am no longer able to carry this burden? You might just be surprised at the answer you get! But, it is your choice. Meanwhile, I am praying for you!

You’re Killing Me Here

There is little doubt that most have felt both overwhelmed and outdone by either the world or their part in the big scheme of things.  I have been awakened in the midst of the strangest dreams. One reoccurring one, which haunted my career in ministry and throughout the time spent in various administrative roles, was that of having failed grade-four mathematics.  I was being contacted by my old elementary school principal and instructed to return to spend the next year to upgrade so that I could finish my school curriculum. That being said, I had already finished an undergrad degree and a masters as well. I used to wonder if there was something that I had missed, perhaps a piece to the great puzzle of life that I had overlooked.

Life often settles into cycles or rounds of experiences, and when diversity in challenges comes, we are not always aware of the inner struggles associated with the accompanying vagaries. It seems most important to settle into the roles we are given, asked to undertake or may be expected to commit to. A dear friend of mine once said; “Be careful the dragons of expectation”.  I never fully understood that until my life’s flow got interrupted by too many expectations. It is easy to find oneself in the midst of a field of roses only to find that the thorns there might be a hindrance to their true beauty, and in fact be the cause of your inability to go further, or perhaps even to turn back.

Many of us struggle within our silent battle with depression. It is a silent battle because, throughout the greater part of life, we are told it is a sign of weakness, and the world bends its ear to the more stable, reliable, stronger individuals who will cope no matter the level of stress under which they are placed. We become adept at the façade which presents the greater personality, the master of one’s destiny and the leader of persons in need of leadership.  I have written before of the overwhelming unawareness of the various facets of depression. I will only mention one here as my thoughts turn to my focus in today’s blog. If you have never known this feeling, you are blessed… it is the paralysis of depression.

While in my teens I had the normal struggles of keeping up with those my age. I was athletic, outgoing, not totally ugly in appearance, but I was unusually short for my age and as my Mom once told me; “You need to turn around twice to make a shadow!” While pouring myself into work, church and sports I found that I was always last chosen and first dismissed. With a final growth spirt I joined the ranks of the many but found myself out of synch with the crowd. My faith was my anchor, and in service, I found both solace and a peace that only God could give. But depression was an enemy of faith!

Echoes of Biblical men reminded me that others suffered and survived. Christ himself though Divine in nature, facing the awfulness of His calling, while in human flesh. But depression is a personal matter, it is one’s personal struggle; it is both an enemy of reliance upon God and a cauldron of fear for those who face its presence each day. I have been blessed that while in the midst of life’s worst moments, I have had those who walked beside me and prayed. Others have laughed and helped me to smile through floods of tears, while some have in silence hugged and went on their way.

Identifying the person who may be in such a state of mere endurance in life, is not easy. One can become adept at producing a smiling face, laughter that invites others in, while the heart still cries through its loneliness, which seems unabated by mere presence. But, God be praised… we are never alone! Have you ever met someone, and without knowing it, you became engaged in conversation that made all the difference. It was a God Moment! While Satan is plotting, God is providing!

Some years back, on one of my India trips, I was with a group who visited an emporium in Mumbai (formerly Bombay) to purchase some trinkets to take home. Several things happened. We were all confronted by the children and adults who worked the streets of the city. Regardless of the pre-warning we received, it was a hard pill to swallow, not allowing the many, many who approached you for help to be let in... we were protected? One young girl, carrying a baby, approached me with a cry saying; “Hungry”! The child was, we were warned not hers, but had been stolen, and this girl worked under a handler. Yet as she held forth that baby, which was itself crying, it took all I had to acknowledge the perhaps millions more like her, surrounded us. In the paralysis, I felt the pain of being moved away, yet still allowed myself to be drawn along by our agent, in that moment of contact. My mind shed its own tears and I thought… Is God providing, yet I am not giving?

The agent, our translator and the group entered the interior and walked through the areas of various stalls where goods were being sold. Men shouted in broken English coaxing us to buy their wares. We stopped at one vendor who sold the type of items which we were searching for. After many attempts to direct our purchases and my attempts to keep any of the others from being fleeced… the vender cried out; “You are killing me here!” Then he laughed, spoke almost perfect English, and told us he had studied in England. He made lots of sales that morning and gifted each of us with a small jade elephant before we left, making the plea for us to return and buy some more. That day held both ends of a spectrum of emotions that changed my life forever.

I’ve tried to put God in a box… tried to identify, understand, justify actions and activities that He has chosen for my life and the lives of my family members. There had to be a reason, some direction that I could master and therefore still be the commodore of the ship I seemed to be sailing; after all, I knew how to steer the (a) boat… I am a sailor… a good sailor! But good sailors must sail through squalls that could sink the boat, must rely on navigation that they neither designed nor perfected. We cry out and promise God that for the rest our lives we will only follow Him, if he will but save us… and I wonder… does God say; “You’re killing me here!”

 … We did… in Christ… and we forget that. Like some of those greats, mentioned in Scripture… we may take on some great warriors and find victory, but have personal defeat, if we do not give every ounce, every breath, every decision and every plan over to He who created and He who sustains. It takes a depressed person’s every ounce of strength to move again, past that paralysis even when God speaks, but there is no choice left… “I have prepared the way… YOU TAKE IT!” IT may be a spiritual translation of what is happening within.

In the flesh, we fall down… can you hear it… THAT PHASE? “You’re killing me here!” If we do that, how can God still love us? We begin to question why did He not protect us from ourselves when all we’ve wanted was to walk with Him, serve Him and honour Him? Job’s story perhaps has part of an answer, but the crux of it is found within ourselves… our being wrapped up in self, in self-reliance, self-assurance and in some extreme case self-indulgence… Our carnal mind says, “we’ve survived this far and all we need from You God is merely  that for which we are now asking.” Was that not part of Paul’s request? Some may argue that it is reductionism in its worst projection, but the human flesh is weak and it MUST be God who keeps us strong!

I’ve walked as close to the edge as I ever want to be… I’ve entered into situations and places that have both terrified me and crushed my desire to continue. I like Elijah have run from the foe that was for the greater part of the truth “myself”, and have hidden in the caves of despair and disappointment, in fear for my own life. Once we take the reins and ask God, only to keep up us, we court disaster, despair or even worse, failure to be what He wants us to be. That places out there alone, but we aren’t really!

Did you read that? You are not alone; others are gathered, praying to a God of love, compassion and forgiveness… for YOU! No matter what part of the edge, or even if you have fallen over that edge, God is there to pick you up and remind you that the price paid, in His death on the cross, (in Christ) He has set you free, not from the guilt you carry, but from the penalty you faced. I breathe because of God’s love; I move because of God’s love, I carry on because of God’s love… He can do that for you. On the edge are you? Take a long look around… Can you see one blessing? One blessing makes it worth the challenge… No blessings in view… Not even one? Close your eyes… now breathe! Can you feel it… that air entering your lungs… that is God breathing the breath of life into you… you ARE blessed!

Learning the Language

It was the best of times and it was the worst of times! I didn’t do very well in High School. There were many linking factors, but I will mention only 3. In our family, we were taught that hard work, focused on earning a living and based mainly on 2 secondary, yet essential elements, would make all the difference in life. There was never a long chat about either of these important fundamentals to a successful life, until after I was married. Oh, I got the frequent lecture about dedication to what was right, meaningful and necessary, but not before I had made a choice to follow my heart and not just a mindless dedication to empty adult labour. I left a job that I had had for several years; I was married, had children and a mortgage, which meant responsibilities and that was unforgivable. I later learned that I was seen as a failure in life. Those were harsh words and did nothing to either lift or support one in life’s endeavours. I digress! Those two secondary elements that could be applied were constancy and consistency. It seemed to others that I was perhaps failing in both!

While traversing through my early education, I stumbled along with poor management of my available resources. I nevertheless did make it through, and fortunately, there were those in my educational journey who saw, for some reason, more potential than I did. I have often related that my two majors in school were girls and sports. The girls were never too much of a success in my teen years and sports played a major role until I needed to get a job, which included after school hours that were needed in order to make working worthwhile. So this brings me to the 3 factors, to which I have alluded already, the first being sports, then girls and finally work. I was good at sports, but when work precludes any hope of being available to take part, then that major peters out. Being disqualified from continuing in my advancement in sports and then delimited by the need to work, I lost also ground with girls, until I met my wife to be.

But education was not totally lost on me! What the administration saw in me was an innate ability to take in information and file it for future use. I did, like most people, have deficiencies and mine was the fear of written tests. You probably know, or have heard of someone, who is just like that, maybe you are yourself. The odd thing was that I loved to learn. I read things that most didn’t; I explored science, technology, and my mind was a constant canvas of ideas and possibilities. That by some was seen to be my downfall. I was a radical, a dreamer and would not amount to much. But words, once foreign became of second nature to me and I often wrote both prose and papers on philosophical matters confronting both myself and others in my sphere of experience. Most were eventually burned, as I felt the pressure to perform according to other’s expectations, rather than my own. I was obdurate and lacked focus… I was becoming sanctimonious and obtuse, but I had to learn the language of dissimulation to see through the fog of criticism in order to find my own path. How’s that for a mouth full of academic criticism. I again digress, but with some forethought!

The road to adulthood, and then finally some level of wisdom in old age can be long and arduous, but much can be learned from its passage. In my early pastorates (churches where I ministered) there were three kinds of people. First, there were those who loved to dissect/analyze my messages; to correct miss-pronounced/misused words, correct my use of verb tenses and sometimes Biblical references. These were the teachers, who in their mind would make me a better person/pastor. Second, there were those who loved to chase rabbit paths in their minds, when something early on in the message or study sparked an incident or problem totally unrelated to the meaning or direction of the presentation. These dear folks were the searchers who felt that an answer might be found in questions, about their focus in life, rather than the immediate meaning of what God had for them, to be found in that message they were missing. The last were those who were a combination of several elements, a few being appreciation/love for their pastor, a reverence for the work being done and a desire to be of assistance by joining in the planned strategies to enlarge the Kingdom, as we went about the Father’s Work. The people in the third category were the Disciples of Christ. These categories of people have been present in both my pastoral work and in the administrative tasks both in academia and local government, with different labelling.

So… why the title “Learning the Language”? I have used two elemental examples in my thoughts thus far. One component was a reflection from my youth, where formulation of mind and language don’t seem to have that pronounced importance to most at the time. The second component was a reflection of how I transitioned into adulthood and a particular part of the workplace. We often hear words which inadvertently have double entendre. What is said and meant by the words we speak may often have a totally different meaning to those to whom they are spoken. For example: “It is important to think before you speak!” is an often used soft criticism, but when considered as an association to weakness or deficiency in one’s life, that statement may do much damage! Ok… I know that some are saying that he must be expecting us to tiptoe through life and take note of our circumlocution as well as our intentions, in consideration of the hearer! YUP! It bodes well for us to imagine life as others are experiencing it by times. Learning the language is not just so we know that obdurate is pigheadedness, or becoming sanctimonious is feeling morally superior to others and that word obtuse…well, it means to be insensitive and slow to understand. There is so much more. Insecure persons who already think themselves to be inferior in thought and speech can be crushed by what was not meant to do so.

I am not trying to say that having a good handle on The English language is the most important of our challenges in life, but I am pointing toward a broader perspective on the meaning of language as it affects others. I remember some formal Academic Board Meetings where tempers flared and words were spoken that were neither uplifting nor tolerable, within the forum in which we met. It was my duty as Chair to handle such outbursts and it was always my policy to do so with these individuals in private. Added to this, I most often chose a time and place that may have sometimes been considered by many to be too far-related to the event where the offence had been committed, to be effective. I was not always so prudent, and like most others, I could, in my own worst moments, be found to be worn down and wearied by the indolence/complacency of some, in other venues. We lose our consciousness of the present environment when we allow ourselves to be depleted in our sensitivity to others, not only that but also the veracity of the present. It is too easy to be drawn in by what “seems to be”, rather than spending time in meaningful evaluation, without prejudice, before we react. Even then it is easy, by virtue of our own past, (the environmental circumstances of our life’s path) to be found wanting. To know the difference between what is correct and what seems right in our mind's eye can enlighten a mountain of difference sometimes.

Language is not always oral in nature by any stretch of the imagination. I have mentioned in the past that I suffer from depression. Some of my family members have lectured me for not using drugs to level out my mood swings, and what some will be able to identify as paralysis, by times. I have a plaque (sign) on my wall that has great meaning in my life. It says: “PRAYER- When life becomes too hard to stand, kneel!” It is not just the words… it is the reality of knowing that behind that statement is the truth that I must surrender myself, my self-assurance, my personal strength and obdurate personality to Him who created me and who has the answers. My wife jokingly tells me I talk too much, and my parishioners used to tell me I preached too long. Today, those who call upon me, when needed sometimes to speak in Church Services, will in good fun pull out their pocket calendars and wave them as I begin to preach. I will tell you this with tears flowing down my cheeks that it matters not, because I have always wanted to be what God has planned for me to be, even when Satan has tried to make me become something else. I hear sincere voices from time to time, telling me with such love, that I am the best preacher they have ever heard. This means so little, for my answer has always been; “God gives the message I am only the speaker.” There are so many loving hearts, yet in opposition, there are so many that turn away with unrelenting hearts and minds, that continue to disparagingly condemn both the Word and the messenger.

What’s the language then, you might ask! It is like going into a very foreign country, as I have several times, to lecture and preach. If we enter into “the work” meaning whatever God has for us and we claim the superior position, we have missed the mark. We must present ourselves as Him; His hands and feet, His voice and personhood (though God is spirit and above any human identification, other than in Christ!), meaning His propensities and things that declare His image. I include this portion of Scripture: 1 John 4:7-12.

7 Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God. 8 Anyone who does not love does not know God, because God is love. 9 In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. 10 In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins. 11 Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. 12 No one has ever seen God; if we love one another, God abides in us and his love is perfected in us.

Our ability to walk in love without dissimulation is of primary importance to us, and for the most part we seem to miss the mark. Families are collapsing, lives are being ruined and children are losing hope as the world becomes a “harder”, “looser (more easily lost)”, “faster”, “complicated” and “uncaring” place to live.

These are only a few adjectives that could be listed but are perhaps 5 of the most distressing as I see them. Is there a generation that cannot survive the change? No, I don’t think so, but this somewhat rhetorical question begs the reader to wonder, does it not, if we care about the changing tide? Today, I am walking too close to the edge for my own comfort. I am examining the elements of my own life that have been scrutinized and evaluated due to the roles I have played in life. I don’t like to look back and I mention that because I know the subtle irony of those words my father once spoke to me, “Looking back won’t bring it back!” Moments of regret, along with the pain of knowing the distress I may have caused others when I spoke or acted beyond my intention (scope of strategy), adds sorrow, even today, to my life. Looking back can flood our minds with good and bad memories.

It is then, the language of God’s love, that brings me back. It is the Spiritual medication that soothes my soul and revives my life to tenable usefulness. Don’t get me wrong, there are those who are as fully faithful, trusting and believing as I am, but who still need more, (that God also provides) to help them be whole. That is the most important language one will ever learn. No matter the word, action or deed, God’s love is always there. We may not understand it, we may not realize the depth of it, and we may not always place our full confidence in it, but He “IS” nevertheless always there. Romans 8:38-39:

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Today is just another day. I have been challenged by the silence of late and now a “still small voice” has been telling me not just to get up and eat, but be refilled and assured that when God gives, I must once again speak! Remember that we all live somewhere along the edge, but going even nearer there, in search of Him, is worth the walk. And remember too… I am praying for you!!!