Silence is God's Roar

“Be silent in the LORD’s presence and wait patiently for Him." ~ Psalm 37:7

For no particular reason, an otherwise regular member stopped attending church.  Call it laziness, boredom or maybe Harold just felt his needs were no longer being met there.  So, after a few weeks, Pastor Dave decided to visit him.

The pastor found Harold at home alone, sitting before a blazing fire on that damp, chilly evening.  Knowing the reason for his preacher’s visit, he greeted him, led him to a comfy chair near the fireplace and waited.

Dave made himself at home but said nothing.  The silence somehow spoke for itself; peaceful like an angel's lullaby, smoothing out the roughness of the day.

Glowing embers leaped and twirled in a fiery dance, transforming the wood into hot ribbons of light.  Wood smoke drifted through the home like incense.  Two silent figures illuminated only by the flickering light, pondered the serenity of quivering flames.

After some time, the pastor took the fire tongs, carefully picked up a brightly burning ember and placed it to one side of the hearth all by itself.

Still mute, he returned to his chair.  Harold watched all this in quiet reflection.  The silence had become more comfortable now; like two old friends enjoying the warmth of companionship.

The lonely ember’s flame flickered … then diminished; its fiery glow was no more.  All that endured was a charcoaled remnant of wood.

Still, not a single word had been spoken since the initial greeting.  Pastor Dave glanced at his watch and realized it was time to leave.  He stood slowly, picked up the cold, dead ember and placed it back in the middle of the raging fire.

Almost immediately it began to glow again from the heat and brilliance of the burning coals around it.

The Pastor stood, contemplating God’s soft whisper lifting from the fragrance of applewood logs.  When he reached the door to leave, Harold said with a thoughtful grin, “Thank you for your visit … and especially for the blazing sermon.  I’ll see you Sunday … my usual pew!”

For most people, remaining quiet for even a short time is challenging.  It’s tempting to fill the space in our minds with noise or distracting movements rather than sit quietly and listen for what the silence may hold for us.

Too often our prayers are projections of our own needs and we give God little room to enter the conversation.  Talking to God without ever listening is pointless.  Silence is the language of God; creative, transformative, regenerative.  We must remain silent to capture every word He speaks; so its Light will always guide us.

God is a mystery of silence and intimacy, far beyond our wildest imaginations, yet nearer to each of us than we are to ourselves.

Lord, Your Word says that when we draw near to You, You will draw near to us.  I seek Your face, Your truth and Your instruction for my life.  I want follow you more nearly, hear You more clearly and love You more dearly.  Amen

Lessons From the First Thanksgiving

 “Hard work will give you power; being lazy will make you a slave." ~ Proverbs 12:24

We all know the Thanksgiving story about the Pilgrims’ gratitude to God for a harvest season of blessing and survival.  But all was not happy in Shangri-La.  They actually faced chronic food shortages - but not due to harsh weather or their limited farming experience.

Before leaving Europe, the Pilgrims entered into a 1620 contract with investors (called the "Adventurers") who financed their trip.  Simply put, they agreed to form a commune.  All property, supplies and crops were contributed into a collective pool and shared equally. 

They called their structure a "Commonwealth" because all wealth and the fruits of their labor was held in common.  Crops were brought to a shared storehouse and distributed evenly.  Each person had to work, not for themselves as individuals or families, but for everybody else in the settlement.

Lacking any reward for hard work, the commonwealth approach bred discontent and inefficiency.  Nearly half the settlers died.  Gov. Bradford recorded in his personal diary that “Everybody was happy to claim their equal share, but output shrank over time.  Slackers showed up late for field work and the hardest workers resented it.  It’s called “human nature.”

The ‘community’ decided when and how much to plant, when to harvest, who would do the work. It quickly proved an epic disaster.  Facing chaos, starvation and death, the colony’s elders led by Bradford abolished the system in 1623.  He divided common property into private plots.  The new owners could produce what they wanted; then keep or trade it freely.

That simple change to private ownership, wrote Bradford, “… had very good success, for it made all hands very industrious, so as much more corn was planted than otherwise would have been.  Women now went willingly into the field, and took their little ones with them to set corn, which [had] before alleged weakness and inability.”

Soon they had such a bountiful harvest they could share food with the native tribes.  The benefits of private, rather than common, ownership were quickly recognized by the Pilgrims and later framed by our nation’s Founders in the Constitution 150 years later.

Surprisingly, I don’t recall ever getting that lesson in school at any level.

Over the centuries, commonwealth schemes (i.e. socialism) have crash-landed into regrettable policies too many times to keep count.  No matter what they’re called: central planning, wealth redistribution, progressivism, or government ownership – they all incite envy and inefficiency. 

Efforts to instill those ideas in our children through mis-education and demagoguery continue to erode our liberties and productivity; spewed by ideologues who as Gov. Bradford put it, have the "vanity of that conceit … as if they were wiser than God."

Thank You Father, Father, for the freedoms we enjoy today and for the people of faith who helped lay the Constitutional framework for our nation.  Thank You for being the rock and fortress of this great country. For You alone are the shield and horn of our salvation. Amen

Honoring a Life

 “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." ~ Matthew 5:4

A person of uncommon gifts, Camila always made the impossible appear easy and natural.  On 4South she reassured patients deemed "difficult" by other nurses.  One glance at that brilliant smile against her bright green uniform and their pain meds worked better, appetites improved and they slept more comfortably.

But this morning her patient, a middle-aged woman, died the night before.  Lauren had suffered an aneurism while preparing dinner.  There were no warning signs, no headaches, nothing.  A congenital brain defect; it had been a ticking time bomb since birth.

Her body was being kept on life support to harvest her organs for donation while her husband and teen-aged girls waited in the ICU.  Camila dreaded having to witness their grief.  But she also knew it was an honor and a privilege to be one of the last persons to care for his wife and their mother.

Camila entered Lauren’s room and spoke to her as if she were still alive, still mattered, still deserved first-class care.  She softly combed Lauren’s hair and fluffed her pillows for comfort.

Kept alive now only by a ventilator, Lauren’s lungs rose and fell as if she were still breathing on her own.  Camila held her hand, which felt surprisingly warm to the touch, and offered a prayer for Christ's healing mercy.

She remembered a beautiful floral arrangement left in the staff lounge by a discharged patient.  The flowers were still fresh, delicate shades of pink, the kind of color that brought a confident radiance and pleasant aroma to the room.  

Camila took the bouquet and placed it on the table next to Lauren’s bed.

Then she called a friend in Nutritional Services and got hot chocolate for the girls and fresh coffee for Dad.  She gathered up several packets of Kleenex so they wouldn’t have to ask.

The girls cried while Dad kept it together, at least for now.  Sometime during the shift, they said their good byes and thanked Camila for her compassion.

It’s been years, but she still thinks of them from time to time and wonders how they’re all doing. 

Maybe they think of her, too.

Nurses play an essential role in our everyday lives.  While many of us are sheltering in place due to stay-at-home orders, nurses and other healthcare professionals head to work each day to care for patients.  Nurses also have their own worries at home – loss of jobs for their spouses, perhaps kids with no childcare, bringing COVID-19 and other illnesses home to their families.  

But, they put their lives on the line each day because that’s what they’re called to do.

Loving God, we pray for nurses and all who minister to the sick, dying, and all requiring care.  May they be witnesses of Christ's healing mercy.  May we follow their examples of kindness and compassion.  Grant them the strength and courage to face each day's challenges and to remain faithful in their ministry of service.  Amen

Beyond the Mask

 “Value others above yourselves, rather than out of selfish ambition or rivalry." ~ Philippians 2:3-4

I don’t like wearing face masks. There, I said it!

They fog my sunglasses and make my face itch.  It’s hard to talk clearly through them and nearly impossible to pick up facial expressions that add important cues to conversation.  They also make it impossible to forget the depressing reality that COVID-19, and its restrictions, still plagues us.

It’s frustrating that experts from the Surgeon General to the CDC have flip-flopped on their guidance.  But It shouldn’t surprise us.  It’s a brand-new, fast-moving crisis.  We probably won’t know for years what was right and wrong in our efforts to stop COVID-19.

More than anything, I hate that masks have become such a divisive political symbol.  But, again, not shocking.  Everything today is politicized.  Inspiring stories.  Sad stories.  Even weather stories.  It bothers me that in America, where half of the country hates the other so viscerally, people won't even interact.

Scripture doesn’t provide a mandate about masks.  But I DO see an invitation … to do the right thing.

For Christians called to love our neighbors as ourselves (Matthew 22:39), wearing a mask in public seems like a relatively easy way to practice neighborly love.  Rooted in basic kindness and respect, practicing all reasonable precautions is actually all about being faithful to Christ’s commands.

Given the confusion about how COVID-19 spreads, shouldn’t we err on the side of more protective measures rather than less, for the sake of neighbors we might unknowingly infect?

It’s easy to blame our leaders these days, and certainly many are making mistakes.  But let’s show them grace (Romans 13:1–7).  Instead of rushing to disparage them, what if we gave them the benefit of the doubt - respecting their authority and believing they’re working hard and trying their best?  Especially if compliance doesn’t contradict our submission to Christ’s teachings.  Go ahead and wear that mask “joyfully, not as a burden,” (Hebrews 13:17) it’s a small cross to bear!

Scripture sometimes calls us to give up our freedoms for the sake of the gospel.  Few things are more beautiful to witness than someone giving up their rights and freedom for the sake of another (1 Cor. 9:22–23).  Do we want the non-believing world to look at Christians as reckless virus super-spreaders who put their own freedoms ahead of the health of their larger community?  Or do we want them to look at Christians as “servants to all,” willing to forego their freedoms out of Christlike neighborly love?

If the small annoyance of wearing masks can help not only save lives but also souls, winning more to the Gospel, isn’t it worth it?

Holy Spirit, grant us a peaceful heart.  Teach us patience.  Help us turn to You in prayer when we are irritable or afraid, or when our journey seems too long.  May all our efforts to guard and protect one another become a shining witness to Your love, Amen.

The Forgotten Soldiers

 “As Christ’s soldier, don’t let yourself become tied up in worldly affairs." ~ 2 Timothy 2:4

Some volunteered, others were drafted - ineligible for a student deferment because they’d never been to college.  Terry didn’t question the draft or the Vietnam conflict.  His grandfather and Dad had served in war.  He considered it his duty too.

Now at 67, Terry was gaining weight and losing hair.  Until recently, he’d made periodic visits to the American Legion to exchange stories with his war buddies.  They were heroes – every one! 

But they’ll hear his tales no longer, for the soldier died today.

Comrades forever, they could never forget watching the limbs of soldiers blown off in convoy attacks.  Violent, horrific, compassion, frustration - aka the Vietnam War.  Vivid still are their haunting memories of Vietnamese children rummaging through their base camp dump, trying to consume discarded food off the filthy dirt.  More troubling images remained forever at bay.

He’ll not be mourned by many, just his children and his wife.  Like so many of his war buddies, he’d lived an ordinary and quite uneventful life.  Statistically, Vietnam Vets had lower unemployment rates than non-vets, and were much less likely to be in prison or ever jailed for a crime.

When celebrities die, mourners note their passing with stories of their inflated importance.  By contrast, a soldier goes unnoticed and unappreciated.  Nearly 60,000 soldiers died in southeast Asia from 1955 to 1975, some as young as 16 years old. 

A politician's salary and the style in which they live are often disproportionate to the service given.  But the ordinary soldier, who offered up his or her life, is compensated with a medal and perhaps a small pension. 

Terry’s ranks are thinning, but his presence should remind us we will need his likes again.  For when countries are in conflict, it’s the soldier’s job to clean up the troubles that politicians started.

Terry was one of the lucky ones, returning home with only a minor shrapnel injury.  Over 300,000 were wounded; 1,592 Americans still remain unaccounted for from the Vietnam War.

Vietnam was more confusing to them after returning home then before they left, an opinion common among many Vietnam vets.  Terry had no illusions that returning soldiers would be greeted as heroes. Other than his parents, he wasn’t sure anyone would be happy to see him.  So, when he left Saigon, he sent a self-addressed letter home welcoming himself back to civilian life.

It’s so easy to forget them; it seems so long ago.  But let’s never forget that it’s the Terry’s of our nation who won for us the freedom that our Country now enjoys.  Given the chance, he likely would’ve served again.  Over 90% of Vietnam Veterans say they’re glad they served; 3 of 4 say they’d serve again, even knowing the outcome.

If you cherish your freedom, thank a Vet today!

Dear Lord, today we honor our veterans, worthy Americans who gave their best when called to serve and protect us. Bless them abundantly for their unselfish service and the hardships and sacrifices they made.  Amen

The Joy of Now

 “You’ll find Him when you seek Him with all your heart." ~ Jeremiah 29:13

A cold gray rain soaked the yard’s fallen leaves.  The few remaining ones clung to limbs that were, not long ago, adorned with vibrant autumn colors.  Light frost suggested winter wasn't far behind.

Annie stood alone at the window, ears perked, tail erect, shifting impatiently.  Earlier she’d cleared the yard of squirrels and the goose family who repeatedly left their ‘droppings’ in our yard.

She came over and sat by me; tail waving, eyes glaring.  She hardly viewed a little autumn drizzle as a deterrent to a morning hike at the lake. 

But I wasn’t quite ready yet; still shedding the sleep from my brain. 

Annie continued her stare as if to say: “Times a wasting, human!”

I scratched behind her ears and rubbed soft fur before repeating: “Not now, maybe later if it clears a little.”  She turned quickly and retrieved Boo - a dingy old toy short on stuffing.  It drooped from her mouth like a rag before she dumped Boo at my feet. 

“Here, I brought you something treasured in exchange for what I want.  OK?” she barked.

I toss Boo across the room hoping she might be distracted by a little game of indoor fetch.  Glancing nonchalantly, she returned her gaze at me.  Dogs are relentless negotiators.

“Maybe later,” I said, getting up and moving toward the spare room I use for writing.  But there’s no “later” for a dog.  They’re creatures of Right Now, focused on the moment, wagging impatiently, her eyes never leaving mine as she trailed behind me.

I soon found myself not writing but thinking about Right Now.  How often do I push the moment into the future, when I really should be more like Annie and face it head on?  Specifically, have I spent these pandemic months putting my life on hold, not seizing it as an opportunity for growth?  Have I missed the opportunity to grow closer to God?  Hiding rather than seeking?  Hoping rather than acting?  Waiting rather than living? 

I’m convinced Annie can read my mind because suddenly she parked at my feet with a look of renewed determination.  I smiled.  Rainy day hikes along the peaceful, misty shoreline are what field jackets and hiking boots are for.

“I give up!” I tell Annie going for her leash.  I can rarely refuse her; she's just too damn cute. 

Throughout the ages, humanity has been tested.  This is one of those times.  And for people of faith, it’s go-time!  Time to practice beliefs that have brought us this far.  Time to reflect on what our spiritual practices or beliefs mean and how they can be actualized during these trying times. 

But right now, it’s time to walk my pup! 

Almighty Father, when the disease, that moves us to mask our faces, fades away, help us see more clearly, listen more actively, and act with more conviction.  Even in the rush of our lives, help us seek You and all the wonders You provide.  Amen

A Pastor's Dilemma

 “For to me, living means serving Christ; dying gets even better!" ~ Philippians 1:21

He stood facing the congregation; all heads were down.  Maybe it was them showing respect or maybe they were too afraid of what was coming.  As the dark cherry coffin was pulled from the hearse, Pastor Bob begged the Almighty for the right words today.

At 59, Bob had done many funerals before.  Earlier this week, he’d celebrated the life of a faithful Christian and longtime church member who’d epitomized the message he’d delivered amid those grieving her loss: “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” (Phil. 1:21).

But today was different … very different.

Albert, the deceased, was not just a militant atheist who Bob didn’t know, but someone who’d apparently lived an awful life.  One of the pallbearers had confided to him earlier that “We’re all better off because he was the nastiest man on earth.”

Now he had to preach the toughest funeral of his life to a few dozen people convinced that the man in the coffin was, at this very moment, suffering in Hell.  As the casket approached the alter, Pastor Bob renewed his plea.  “Help me do right today, Lord.”

The pastor remembered something he’d learned in seminary - that funerals are not for the dead.  Those grieving are often desperate to find purpose in their anguish.  This may well be the only opportunity those in attendance may have to hear the gospel.  Relish those opportunities.

And so, he began.  Bob introduced himself not as a professional burying person, but as a proud Christian.  “I’m not here to speak of death, but about the good news of Jesus Christ.  Nor will I be generic; I’ll speak confidently from God’s own Word.”

He continued by recognizing the dignity of life. “Everyone is created in God’s own image.  Even though Alfred had seemingly made a wreck of his life, there had been times where God used him in some way or another to bless others.  Our true faith is known only to God.”

He reminded them that we’re never promised another day; that we never know when we’ll exhale our final breath.  It’s too late to believe in God when you’re six feet under.  Only belief in Christ guarantees everlasting life.

Now it was time to close by addressing the elephant in the room. 

“We Christians believe in eternal life,” he said.  “Don’t presume that Albert’s soul is lost forever.  Our job is not to condemn – that’s God’s job.  Our job is to connect.  It’s always possible that in those last few moments, a seed that’d once been planted may have come to fruition.  God will always do what’s right!”

And with that his sermon ended, confident in his faith and grateful for the opportunity.

Almighty God, we know that prayers for the dead have no meaning.  I cry for those left behind, for the lonely ones with empty hearts.  Comfort them, bring them peace and restore hope and faith and belonging.  Amen