Easter's Coming

“Jesus replied, “If my followers were silenced, these stones would shout out.”  ~ Luke 19:40

He taught me how to swim, to catch a fly ball, and to build a campfire, but the most important things he taught me were by his example.  He was humble, compassionate, and respectful. 

Dad’s 91 now; his once-brilliant mind ravaged by dementia.  He doesn't know my name.  He rarely says two sentences in a row that make any sense.  Only occasionally does he remember specific events from long ago.  And yet, without words he’s still teaching me that God is still present and working through all of us, even now, even on those days when I don't understand a thing my father is saying.

Last Sunday we took one of our customary drives through the Georgian pines.  There’s almost nothing like it on earth.  As farms and fields whizzed by, I noticed out the corner of my eye that Dad was straining to look out the window.

“Pine trees know when it’s Easter!” he suddenly exclaimed. 

Sometimes he blurts out silly things and then retreats back into his own silent world.  So I waited without responding.

“Pine trees start their new growth in the weeks before Easter,” he continued.  “Look there Kevin (Kevin is my uncle’s name – not mine), at the tops of the pine trees.  See the yellow shoots?”  

I had no idea what he meant, so I pressed Dad for more details.  This could get interesting, I thought.

“As the days get close to Easter Sunday,” Dad explained, “the tallest shoot will branch off and form a cross.  By the time Easter Sunday arrives, most of the pine trees will have small yellow crosses on all of the tallest shoots.

I looked out the window and I couldn't believe my eyes.  It was a week before Easter and all of the trees had tall yellow shoots stretching to Heaven.  The tallest ones shone in the sunlight like rows of tiny golden crosses.

It reminded me of when Jesus’ disciples were speaking praises of him atop a mule and the Pharisees told them to stop.  Jesus told them that if those praises were not spoken, “even the stones will cry out.”

Dad was right, and for a few brief moments we shared the intimacy of friendship once again. 

Spring is the season of life – a time to celebrate new beginnings.  Flowers begin to show their colors, fruit trees sprout the beginnings of their bounty, and babies of many species are hatching and birthing.

Many attend Easter Service on that day who don’t worship on any other Sunday.  The music is sweeter, the sermon more meaningful and some will promise to attend weekly - spirit renewed.  Peace be with you my friends on this Easter weekend and forever.
 

Lord Jesus, You conquered death so that we might have life.  You showed incredible kindness when it was undeserved and patiently taught us through Your example, to become better people with better lives.  Thank you for new beginnings!

Feelin' Groovy

“Slow down, you move too fast!”  You got to make the morning last." ~ Paul Simon

Twas early spring; Angie dawdled on her walk home from Sunday school.  She scuffed her shoes in the warm grass uncovering a fuzzy caterpillar.   She plucked a dandelion from the playground and blew away all the fluffy stuff.   She enjoyed spider webs and wiggly worms and shiny rocks.

Lying on her back at the base of a tall maple tree, she spied a bird’s nest high overhead and wondered how baby birds learned to fly.  She wasn’t in any hurry to get home.  She loved seeing the earth the way animals do; experiencing the sky from a bumblebee’s perspective; feeling the mud squish between her bare toes.

She couldn’t help her pokiness any more than she could her unruly red hair or bright green eyes.  Kids sometimes made fun of her easy-going manner.  But Angie didn’t seem to hear them; so intent was she on watching raindrops or snowflakes float silently to the ground.

Even in school when she was forced into the ‘time-out corner’ for daydreaming, Angie quietly studied the corner itself imagining the end of a rainbow, pondering tadpoles that grew into frogs, or remembering where to find the season’s first pussy willows for her Mommy.  

Then she heard it – the first real sign of spring; that one sound that every kid lived for, the one that sent even dawdlers like her scampering at full speed.  Before other kids even registered the sound, Angie had already started racing toward the ice cream truck - eyes wide and excited.  Everyone knew that if you didn’t act fast, the ice cream man could vanish quickly.  She waved for the truck to stop and stepped up to order. 

“Hello young lady,” said the kindly vanilla vendor.  “What have you been doing on this fine day?”

“I’ve been to Bible School,” she said pinching a few lose coins from her pocket.  “I learned a lot about God today.”

“M’m, that’s wonderful,” he said.  “If you tell me where God is, I’ll give you a free ice cream treat!”

Quick as a flash the answer came!  “I can do better than that!” she said.  “Mister, you can keep the ice cream and I’ll give you all my money if you can tell me where God isn’t!” 

Ah, the wisdom of children!  Their laughter and their loveliness can soften granite.

Spring is a season that invites us to slow down, listen, observe, and feel.  In this world where we always seem to be on the go, remember to take time each day to reflect where you are in His eyes.  You just might need a course correction to refocus yourself and replenish your energy reserves.
 

Dear Lord, sometimes our lives feel so complicated and out of control that we forget to count our many blessings and enjoy the life You promised us.  Teach us to slow down and smell the lilacs, never forgetting that a little sunshine goes a long way.  Amen

The Enemy of Good is Better

“Seek justice; defend widows and orphans." ~ Isaiah 1:17

The 1930’s were times of utter despair framed by joblessness, homelessness, and desperateness.   It’s hard to imagine that such a time ever existed in America.  Fathers were forced to leave home to look for work elsewhere.  Destitute mothers had few, if any, options to provide for their children.

Elaine stood in a “bread line’ all day, only to be disappointed by the time it was her turn.  Free cheese and bread were already gone.  Now she stood humiliated before Judge Brown’s bench awaiting punishment.

The Judge was a colorful character - he loved children and was known for taking entire orphanages to baseball games.  When the newspapers went on strike, he got on the radio and read the Sunday funnies to the kids. 

His night court served the poorest ward of the city.  Tonight he peered through wire framed glasses at a sickly thin woman - her eyes hollow and lifeless.  The Depression had left Elaine nothing more than a skeleton.   She’d been charged with stealing a loaf of bread.   The tattered old woman fought back tears as she told how she’d lost her job; her pregnant daughter's husband had deserted them and her two grandchildren were starving.

The shopkeeper, from whom the bread was stolen, refused to drop the charges. "She’s got to be punished, your Honor" the man demanded, “to teach others a lesson."

The Judge sighed before addressing Elaine. "I can’t ignore this; the law makes no exceptions.  Ten dollars or ten days in jail!"  But even as he pronounced sentence, he reached into his pocket, removed some bills and tossed them into his top hat.

"I’ll gladly pay the $10 fine for which this woman is accused.  “Furthermore!” he paused, “I’m charging everyone in this courtroom fifty cents for living in a city where a poor woman has to steal food so that her grandchildren can eat.  Bailiff, collect the fines and give them to the defendant!"

City newspapers reported the next day that $47.50 was given to a puzzled woman who had stolen a loaf of bread to feed her starving family.  Fifty cents of that amount was contributed by the grocery store owner himself.  Some seventy petty criminals, traffic offenders, and  policemen, each of whom paid 4 bits for the privilege of doing so, gave Judge Brown a standing ovation.

The reporter concluded by adding, “Sympathy says, I'm Sorry" . . . Compassion sees and says, 'I'll help.” 

Do you avoid eye contact with the homeless vet on the street corner?  Do you give him whatever change you have in your pocket, and thank God you’re not him?  Or do you get a wrenching feeling in your gut that urges you to act?

“Lord, open our eyes that we may see You in our brothers and sisters.  Open our ears that we may hear the cries of the hungry, the frightened, the oppressed.  Open our hearts that we may love each other as You love us.”  (Mother Teresa)

Little Poor Man

“Love is always supportive, loyal, hopeful, and trusting." ~ 1 Corinthians 13:7

He woke in a cold sweat, the remnants of the familiar dream fresh in his mind.  Instinctively, the young man searched his body for chainmail, a breastplate or his sword.  He sat up in the narrow bed as the dream of becoming a noble knight faded.  In the age of chivalry, he too had wanted to bring honor to his family and slay his own dragons.  But this dream had ended very differently.

He’d grown up among great wealth and luxury; his father a successful tycoon.  The man himself enjoyed extravagant pleasures.   His love of excess (and his pocket money) made him popular among young friends addicted to immorality.

One day while joking with some friends, a beggar approached desperate for loose change.  The man emptied his pocket to the vagrant.   Friends instantly mocked him for his generosity.  The beggar’s pitiful sight set him thinking about the poverty and misery of ordinary life.  He began to lavish money on the poor; acts his father believed crazy and ungrateful.

Sometime later the man was bedridden for many months with a serious illness.  Fearing death, he prayed constantly asking guidance about his future.  Then came the dream that changed his life; the dream where he was no longer a fearless knight but a call to follow Jesus . . . literally! 

When he recovered from his disease, he renounced his old ways and dedicated his life to emulating Jesus; donating his entire wealth to purchase food, clothing and goods for the poor.  He tried to be humble because Christ lowered himself and became human like us.  He showed compassionate to those who suffered as Christ endured crucifixion.  People mocked him for his new lifestyle and at times even assaulted him.  He learned to laugh at himself and not take their ridicule too seriously; qualities that often won over even the most difficult people. 

The man lived simply in prayer and meditation for two years.  Eventually, he travelled from village to village preaching the love of God, even giving lessons to the animals.  

His gospel of kindness and love spread quickly and earned him the name of St. Francis – the little poor man of Assisi.  Others joined St. Francis’ example of service and humility.  He later founded the Order of Franciscan Friars - our new Pope took the same name in his honor.  St. Francis may be the only Holy man since Jesus recognized by Muslims and Christians alike.

The simple “Prayer of St. Francis” offers us is a chance to pause, pray and reflect on what it is we were created to do.  It provides a simple blueprint upon which to pattern our thoughts, speech and actions.  Let us pray:

“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.  Where there is hatred, let me sow love;  where there is injury, pardon;  where there is doubt, faith;  where there is despair, hope;  where there is darkness, light;  and where there is sadness, joy.”  Amen

Bullycide

“God’s Spirit gives us power, love, and self-control." ~ 2 Timothy 1:7

Jared was a genius!  A young man with a bright future, Jared had already been accepted into many prestigious colleges.

Classmates remember Jared as a ‘geek’ – aloof, peculiar, and too smart to have social value.  Nicknamed “Einstein,” they frequently taunted him for his social clumsiness and his superior intellect.  Austin became the ringleader of the horrible circus that nearly ended Jared’s life.

Jared used to think he’d live a long and exciting life – maybe becoming famous for inventing something important, or curing something miserable.  But depression had been eating away at him.  In the mirror he saw someone not quite whole staring back – someone living to die.

Tired of sleeplessness and antidepressants and counselors, he just wanted it all to disappear.  No one valued him anyway.  So he posted the following on Facebook:

“Tomorrow I’m planning suicide.  Thanks for the memories!”

Alert parents had their 16-year old son hospitalized immediately.  Word spread quickly amid the quaint New England village where they lived; where guilt overpowered Austin.

Despite his agnostic tendencies, Austin felt the presence of a higher being - a power calling him to reach out to Jared’s parents hoping a genuine apology might erase his crushing remorse.

In the living room of Jared’s home – without a pre-written apology or even mental notes, Austin told a story that’d been bottled up inside him.  Two hours later he’d learned plenty about Jared.  While many factors contributed, their bullying combined with his depression, definitely led Jared to consider suicide.

Austin couldn’t absorb everything that night; it took a few days to sink in.  Jared’s parents had welcomed him into their home and appreciated Austin sharing another piece of their son’s puzzled life.  No anger – only love!

While doctors continued to assess Jared’s mental condition, Austin posted a letter to Jared on Facebook and encouraged others to do likewise.  He hoped a couple of responses might cheer Jared up, might give him a reason to go on living, might convince him that his life mattered.

He got more than a few responses – thousands actually, letters from every continent including Antarctica.  The sheer volume brightened his room a million watts.  He’ll be reading well-wishes well into retirement – from people who could relate, who valued life, who cared.

Jared’s journey isn’t over. He still has good and bad days.  But now he has a ‘pile’ of friends reminding him that life is short; that his life is special.     

Suicide is the third leading cause of death among teenagers.  But – it’s preventable. Youth who are contemplating suicide frequently give warning signs of their intentions.  As parents, teachers, and friends, we’re in the best position to notice the dangers and get help.  Never take these warning signs lightly or promise to keep them secret.

My Lord, shifting relationships with hormones, social circles and support networks cause havoc for our teens.  Help us be vigilant for warning signs of distress so that we can help them get help.  Amen

Best Friends

“If the people of this world hate you, just remember they hated Me first!” ~ John 15:18

At 71, Len was dying of cancer; drifting slowly into dementia.  He had family in the area, a daughter and son, both married with children of their own.  He spoke of them often, but they never visit of phone anymore.  His wife Millie passed away years ago but still lives somewhere at the edge of Len's focus.

Smitty too was a widower.  A lifelong friend, he now provides hospice care for Len in his own home.  Lately he shows signs of forgetfulness too, but confides the memories are probably best forgotten anyway.  His two grown children live nearby as well, but never call or come around either.  

After serving a tour in Vietnam, Len returned home to marry Millie, his high school honey, before starting to work beside Smitty at his Dads' boat shop.  The boys built that small shop into what became one of the best small businesses on the west coast.  Both are retired figureheads now; their portraits adorning the showroom wall.

Both families were close; they did most everything together.  They even buried their wives in the same year.  After their spouses were gone, Len and Smitty spent more and more time together, sometimes not even bothering to go home to their respective, empty houses.

Eventually Len decided to move into Smitty’s house.  It made sense; they’d been friends forever.  They were just about all each other had.  Len arranged an apartment-warming party and invited all their children – to share their good news. 

They expected jubilation – they got a misery.

Without letting them explain, everyone started yelling at once.  “Are you telling us that you’re gay?...  What would our Mom’s think?...  How long has this been going on?...  Who else knows?...  Do you realize what this will do to our business?...  The children didn’t care to listen; they thought only of themselves.

Eventually, their kids stopped talking to them entirely.  That was four years ago.  They only had each other, sometimes laughing and crying at the same time.

“I loved you, man,” Smitty whispered at Len’s graveside, nearly three months since his buddy had passed away.  He had no regrets; he’d cared for his dear friend until the end.  “I just wish they could have understood!

Death is frightening or peaceful, depending on your faith.  For Christians, death is something that quite literally brings us closer to God.  The kingdom of God means wherever and whenever God’s presence is seen, felt or experienced.  He’s always here in our midst.  When you see the end of life through those in hospice care, you see a glimpse of the journey home.  Blessed are those who view the end of life as a final stage of growth.

Thank God for all who provide Hospice care.  We’re grateful for their patience, their empathy, their kindness and most of all, the giving of themselves to ease the pain, the fear and the uncertainty of others.  Amen

Blessing in Disguise

“The Lord rescues all who are discouraged and have given up hope.” ~ Psalm 34:18

Jonas woke to the sounds of waves gently crashing the shoreline.  He loved ocean breezes.  Oddly though, he was covered in sand and a wet blanket.  Then he remembered the violent waves . . . the frantic sinking . . . the exhausting swim – then darkness. 

He’d set out solo, ignoring storm warnings and looking for adventure.  Somehow, he’d managed to survive.  Jonas studied his surroundings; there were no signs of civilization.  He hadn’t a clue where he was.

Food and fresh water made his priority list.  He’d also need to find shelter before nightfall.  But at that moment, he needed more rest. 

Slumber came quickly, filled with images of starvation, dehydration and even animal attacks as slept atop jagged shells.  Dreams would occasionally feature a boat or helicopter providing safe passage off this island.  The intense morning sun roused Jonas for the second time, reminding him that his real life nightmare had only just begun. 

A short hike revealed a fresh water pool and fruits aplenty.  A lucky start he thought.  With some materials from the boat’s wreckage and a few tools, he began erecting a primitive shelter.  As the planet’s worst handyman, the structure provided little more than an emotional boost from the effort itself.

Darkness fell.  Heavy gray, storm clouds rolled in, blocking out the twinkling stars and throwing the island into a lonely, dreary state.  Flames from a small fire licked the tips of his chilled fingers as he held them over its warmth, trying to return feeling into his icy joints.

And so it went, days became weeks; weeks became months.  Jonas prayed franticly asking God to rescue him.  No one came.  Eventually he learned to survive the weather changes, insect bites, but never the loneliness.  Jonas longed for the urban chaos he’d left behind.

Time was running out.  If he wasn’t rescued soon, he’d die of insanity, alone on this deserted island.  Angrily, he tossed a log into the fire.

Hot sparks set his grass-lined hut ablaze.  The fire rapidly turned his few belongings into ash.  The only things left were the clothes on his back.  Shock turned to desperation; Jonas dropped to his knees weeping heavily.  

“God, how could you let this happen?  I’ve prayed for rescue every day for months and no one’s come.  Now everything’s gone up in smoke!  Why Lord, why me?”

Later as he attempted to build a new shelter, he caught glimpse of a ship coming toward the island.  Jonas was rescued.  As they headed back toward civilization, he questioned the captain, “How did you find me?”  The captain responded, “We noticed a column of smoke on the horizon and decided to check it out.  To our surprise, we found you!”

My God, life throws us challenges, problems, and disasters.  But Your grace is like a missing sock, we know it will turn up eventually, but sometimes in the strangest place.  A disaster can sometimes be a blessing in disguise.  Amen