Life in the Past Lane

It may not run deep. It may not run wide. Sometimes it doesn’t run at all, forming little pools where scum builds up and swirls around from the wind. At other times the rocks are uncovered, revealing a bed of slimy moss. And yet, when it runs, it runs fast. Sometimes after the spring thaw, after the darkness of winter, it runs so fast it can sweep you away. Just like our memories. Just like our dark, cold buried thoughts.

It’s not really life in the fast lane. It’s life in the past lane. And sometimes, it’s a race for survival. It moves forward, then it retreats. But it’s always moving.

I had a conversation recently with a friend about individuals having to “go back” – go back to the past. He expressed not understanding why people need to – especially after they have found Hope in Christ. He said he has never had to go back.

But in our case, our trauma – our grief – our past lane – is after Christ. It happened in the name of Christ. 

It is difficult to explain to those who have not experienced trauma, or who have not yet recognized their trauma,  that like grief, it is cyclical.  We didn’t recognize it for many years either. It was buried. It was buried deep. At least for me. And yet it came out every day – in flashbacks, and anger, in voices, and an obsessions to keep me busy. Keep busy. Keep busy. Don’t stop. Don’t think. Don’t feel. Keep moving. Keep working. Find a new thing to do. Don’t stop moving. Stay hidden. 

Hidden in positive confessions and Christian cliches. It was hidden in shame.  To see it for what it was would be a “lack of thankfulness for our life in Christ.”  When someone dies – no matter how – no matter the age – if they are with Christ, we rejoice. End of story.

 It was a cold and lonely place. There was a light up ahead, but it was always out of reach to me. I kept reaching. Moving forward through the cold. Hoping.                                               And Jesus kept me warm.

We survive the race. One day at a time. One memory at a time. One dream at a time. We survive because of the Hope that is within us. Hope in something and Someone who is bigger than us.

We survive to help others. We are touched with the same infirmities – our wounds become the tattoos of His scars. Our pain becomes the evidence of His grace in our lives.

We survive to love.  And it makes us stronger. More compassionate. It makes the day brighter. The night skies are more starry. It makes love more valued and laughter ring like crystal.

We survive to look up. And in doing so, others look up with us. And for a just a moment, we get a glimpse of heaven.                                                                                                                      

David Grubb, I love you. You have traveled the past lane by my side, and together we see heaven.

 

 

 

Tears for Warriors

His name was Jimmy. He was a mothers son. He was an only brother.

He died in Vietnam

A lot of Barbecues take place this weekend. A lot of friends gather to party, enjoy a three-day weekend, attend parades, hang flags, and drink beer.

For some of the vets and active military who are drinking,  it wasn’t just pulled out  this weekend.

It betrays the untrained civilian eye who can’t recognize the hidden wounds of war.

Vets are remembering their tours of duty. Or they are trying to forget them.

They are remembering their fallen brothers and sisters. Or they are trying to forget – just for a moment.

They will never forget the fallen. They will never want to.

They are remember the faces. They are remembering the tears. The prayers.

They are remember the empty boots. The rifle. The helmet.

My earliest memories are of weeping. I have very few early memories and it seems ironic due to my chosen profession that my earliest ones would be of death.

I didn’t really understand. I only knew he was supposed to leave Vietnam in three days, but he volunteered for one last mission. He never came home.

They hugged her as she sobbed.

I remember.

I remember feeling confused. I remember feeling sadness. I sat on the couch. I didn’t want to play. They gave me a drink. They tried to smile at me and tell me there were some games, or kids books.

Or something.

My father remembered. He was a medic in WWII. There wasn’t a roll call at his funeral. He was the last of the 90th Division to die.

In 1969, we visited France.

He wept.

He hugged the Frenchman, Henri Levaufre, whose town had been liberated by the 90th. Henri honored Americans who had fought by touring the battle grounds with them.  We were one of the first to visit him. We were not the last.

Many toured the places of death. The places of life.

He found the foxhole – the one that nearly took his life. He wept again. I was eleven years old. I didn’t understand. His friends died on that Hill 122. We walked on Normandy Beach and went into the pill boxes.

And he wept.

My mother made fun of him for crying so much. Theirs was not a marriage filled with compassion. Or trust. I didn’t understand the wounds of war then.

No one did.

Many still don’t. Hidden wounds. Lack of honor. Brave men don’t cry. Or do they? Soldiers don’t have hidden wounds. They’re not allowed to.

Wounds that bleed on the inside. Run with black blood and dark thoughts.  They often take a long time to heal. They need to be open to heal.

The families know. The families remember.

Ours is a family of warriors. We fight the good fight. We serve God. We serve our country.

We wound. We love. We cry. We pray. We laugh.

We understand death.

And Life.

We honor the fallen.

We remember this Memorial Day not with a party, but with a prayer.

Please keep our warriors safe in body, mind and spirit. Bring them home safely to the ones who love them. Surround them with Warrior Angels to keep them strong and safe.  Comfort all those who mourn and grant us hope in an eternal life where we will never part again.  In Jesus name.

 I didn’t understand then. I do now.

God Filled

 Kintsugi is the Japanese art of filling in the cracks in pottery with a resin combined with powdered gold, silver, or other metals. The broken pottery is not considered useless, but instead the marring reflects a life of beauty through brokenness.

Most of us in America see brokenness – weakness – as a  thing to be avoided. A broken vessel is one that should be tossed away and replaced with something newer, more exciting, more useful. If we don’t like something, if we don’t value it as useful for this current season, we replace it. Churches now cater to the young, the old, the middle aged, the professional, the student, etc. We change our programs, our worship, our times, our names, our image … to be “relevant” to our time and community.

Although I think we need to be culturally sensitive and open to meeting the needs of the community and people we serve, we have attempted to replace the gold filled cracks of brokenness with plastic models of your best life now.  In this age of technology where expensive cell phones and devices are replaced every year for bigger and better, we are replacing the age old tradition of a community filled with differences to a homogeneous version of look alikes. We no longer think in terms of “if it is broken it needs to be fixed,” but  “if it is broken it needs to be thrown away.” Cracks are ugly. They reveal that everyone and everything eventually ends up damaged, broken, or in total disrepair.  We are born that way. Broken vessels needing gold filling.

And yet, the broken vessel is the thing that reflects the most beauty. A community of differences doesn’t reflect the need to be replaced, but the blending of the old and the new, the traditional with the modern, and the wise with the passionate.  It is a transition from the known to the unknown, from the untarnished to the tried and true.  The Lord of change refines and fills the cracks with his purposes as we yield to the kind of love the Father has  towards us – to our uniqueness.  We learn to love with Kingdom love.  We see beauty instead of brokenness and unity where there used to be divisions. Only then can we be children of God and be known by our love.

“See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us, that we would be called children of God; and such we are. For this reason the world does not know us, because it did not know Him. Beloved, now we are children of God, and it has not appeared as yet what we will be. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is.” I John 1

Lord, please fill our cracks with your gold that we may be more beautiful to you and  to those who need to see how perfectly you form and fix us.

The Appointed Time

There is a transition that takes place in life from looking ahead towards dreams unfulfilled to looking back and remembering.  I don’t exactly know when it happens, but one day you awaken to realize that most of your life is behind you, and most of your dreams have either been realized, or exchanged for other visions. I am among the fortunate ones – I got to realize most of my dreams.

I turned 55 today. Actually right about 8:30 this morning I hit this milestone which qualifies me for AARP. I don’t know how I got here, but I do know it was a wild and exciting, fun-filled, and often painful ride. Not a Merry-Go-Round, but a modern roller coaster that left me breathless and adrenalin pumped. Even feeling queasy at times. There were a lot of occasions that Dave and I would have liked the quiet ride, but you can’t always choose what tickets are given to you. God hands them out according to what ride He thinks will have Kingdom effects. Sometimes, opportunity came along for us to hop on a ride of our choosing and we mistakenly chose the wrong one, but even then there is always a different view, a different perspective to be gained from up there, hanging on for life.

All of the random temperament tests I take come out the same – I am a lover, a servant, a loyal friend, devoted to family, given to rejection, a leader but prefer a team setting, yada-yada. Mostly true, though the rejection part is getting better as I rest in the unconditional love of Christ, and a husband who has modeled it faithfully for 32 years.  I wasn’t a wanted child and heard it enough growing up. I spent the better part of my earlier life laughing it off, a few years after my mothers death, grieving and reconciling it, and recent years in empathy for the woman who raised me from the place of her own pain.  As a lover, it set in me a deep desire to have the family I always wanted – and I did.

I was granted the privilege of a marriage  far different from my parents which was filled with arguments and bitterness. I was blessed with eight amazing children, and three I will get to meet in heaven. Now, 10 grandchildren grace our lives. 

We were able to own our dream property  – above. For 7 years we lived the life I fantasized about as a child – big family – raising our own food, all home together laughing, loving, Dave working from home, coffee and breakfast together in the mornings… We knew we were never retire, but we had a retirement dream life. We lost the farm – we lost the dream with the job loss of 2009, but it came true for a season. I’ll take the bitter with the sweet.

Ecclesiastes 3:1-2 says is clearly”There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven; A time to give birth and a time to die; A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.…”

We were uprooted, but that is OK. God has a purpose and even the painful stuff is working in us something bigger. Something better.

To say it was all rosy would be a lie. I have many regrets over the last twenty years. I wish I could go back and do some things over again. We would plan more, and live by the seat of our pants less. I would take better care of Dave. I would love more and yell less. I would establish more boundaries for my own health and well-being. I would let Jesus love me from a place of grace and not waste time on years of legalism, and see that filter down into the lives of my children when they were young and impressionable.

I would stop and smell the flowers more – gaze at the stars- do more unit studies – pet the dogs.

Collect more colored fall leaves and seal them in waxed paper, press more flowers, make my own beeswax candles.  Can more of my own vegetables. Raise chickens sooner, color Easter eggs, and celebrate the birth of Christ.

I would have married David in a church and not just when we renewed our vows. Goodbyes were said…

And through it all we held on fast to the promises that this fleeting life is just the beginning.  Life and death, joy and pain, rich and poor – life continues moving forward.

And we find new dreams to look forward to, new lives to greet, new friends to be made, and always the good-byes that come too quickly.

And so on this my 55 birthday I say a toast to David Grubb and the life we have shared. May there be

another lifetime of joy and sorrow to share together.

A toast – L’ Chaim. To Life.

 

 

When the Sky Falls Pt. 1

Theodicy. The aspect of theology concerned with how to reconcile a good God with the problem of evil and suffering.

My heart breaks for all the family and friends who said goodbye to loved ones during the recent rash of tornadoes. For the mom of eight children, who is now a widow with six children. The unimaginable has happened and three caskets were lined up for final good-byes.

The husband who lived, but his bride who will no longer greet him in the morning with a cup of coffee and a smile.

For the mother who received a farewell text from her son before the tornado hit.

For the missing daughters in Nigeria while mothers and fathers weep in agony while they wait for help, or news of their beautiful daughters.

For the hundreds of Korean families who won’t get to see their children graduate, or marry, or have children of their own.

Or cancer, car accidents, suicide, old age, crippling disease, kidnapping, human trafficking, gendercide, infant loss, miscarriage, birth defects, TBI’s, war, famine, etc…

Far too challenging a task to post in one blog; theologians have wrestled with this since the beginning of time. Job’s friends had plenty of ideas. The unfortunate thing is that they voiced them, as happens all too often within religious circles. It works like this – if evil and suffering is a real problem, and I am uncomfortable with the notion of a God that allows evil and suffering, I will do one of  several things – First, I will become a prosperity gospel, word of faith kind of person (been there, done that) and turn my eyes away from the real problem of suffering, believing that if I have enough “faith” only good will follow me. Or,  I will become agnostic or atheist so bad things are all just part of the evolutionary and scientific cycle and God is just a fictional cosmic character for weak-minded people who need to find an answer to suffering. Or maybe I will just overall ignore the problem and it will go away, bury it deep, even my own suffering.

There is a third alternative and one that we really need to address – we will start talking about suffering in the church. We will start educating people about suffering and evil and pain, and how to address it and help others. Oh, I know it is happening in many healthy churches, but it is not the larger part of evangelical circles. Suffering often equates with mental health as well, and we more often than not skirt mental health issues. Grief, loss, trauma – all the thing the people are experiencing in their losses are part of mental health, often leading into physical health challenges. It’s messy, it’s ugly, it’s difficult to define or be around. It makes us uncomfortable. We don’t mind addressing physical ailments, but not the mental health. And not the trauma or suffering that may have caused the physical or mental anguish.

Most of us go on about our daily lives and don’t stop to think about the intense amount of sadness going on in the world. We can’t dwell on it or it becomes an issue of our own mental health. But we need to address it. We need to think about it. It is our next door neighbor, our family member, our co-worker – it is not happening “over there” it is happening every day right here. And how we address it is the foundation of how we love others as Christ does. It is the foundation of compassion.

You can’t reflect the love of Christ to someone who is in pain, if you are afraid of their pain.

I keep going back to 2 Cor. 4:8-10  “But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us,  We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in [us].”                

We all need a theology of suffering in our lives – a theodicy to stay as bright lights shining to others when the sky falls. We need to be able to stand strong amid the darkness of agony and reflect hope, even when we don’t have the answers – especially when we don’t have the answers.

 We don’t have all the answers, but we have the God who IS the answer.    

Next blog,  I’ll post some recommended reading, video, and scripture texts for personal study.                                                         

The Holes are Deep

I fell in a hole a few days ago. It happens every once in a while when I am not watching where I am going. All of a sudden this hole pops up in front of me and down I go. Sometimes the hole is really dark and full of scary images, but fortunately I always carry a light with me now which helps to prevent a total loss of illumination. Usually I can keep my bearings by looking up where the light varies from a flicker to full illumination.

There have been times when the hole has been deep and dark and I couldn’t get out.  I discovered that if I write, the words tend to weave a kind of mystical  story rope, allowing me to shimmy just a little bit higher to where the light shines. Once you learn the art of weaving story ropes, you can pass it on to others. I have begun the journey with many who are finding their way out of dark holes through writing. One of my new curriculum’s is based on this healing art of rope weaving. The truly magical part is that the stronger the rope gets, the easier the climbing becomes.

There have been times when the caverns were so deep, I needed a friend to help shed some of their light inside for me to be able to weave. More often now, I stand on top of the hole and shine the light for someone to begin their weaving.

Sometimes the holes are not quite as deep and the sun shines enough to produce and pleasant vines and flowers growing up the sides. When that happens the rope isn’t always needed and I can climb out among the vines without fear of falling. My story tells about the beauty of the journey, weaving the suffering into a picture of grace.

Oftentimes, the holes are more horizontal in nature. I think those are the type most of us fall into. They don’t required an intense weaving to get out of, nor even climbing up the vines, but they do create a struggle as we crawl upwards. We bruise our knees and scrape our hands and it is just so refreshing to breathe the fresh air and bask in the light again.

The greatest thing about weaving ropes of healing stories, is that each rope gets stronger the more practice we have. Like any other sport, talent, or occupation, the more experience we gain by doing the wiser we become. And it doesn’t matter if we weave the story rope alone or in groups, for ourselves or for others. The rope will surely appear as a ladder to freedom.

More often than not, I now weave a bridge into my stories that gives me a place to cross the holes safely. It is really a developed art to recognize the landscape where the holes pop up and avoid them.  A friend of mine named Jesus is teaching me that particular art and with His help, my weaving will be perfected.

Learn, Obey, Imitate

            True biblical repentance really has to do with a deep heartfelt sorrow towards our old lives of breaking God’s moral laws – sin – and a desire to turn away from those, and follow the new way – Christ. Following Christ – becoming a “Christian” has for many become more of a membership into a particular church, financially supporting it, attending regularly or at least attempting to, perhaps being baptized into that church, attending social functions and usually agreeing to particular doctrines. Do those things and feel good about ourselves.

The word Christian is used only 3 times in the New Testament whereas the term disciple is used 269 times. If we examine what the disciples did throughout the New Testament we witness that they walked with Jesus, learned from Jesus, obeyed Jesus, and imitated Jesus. Lean, obey, imitate, in that order. They gave up everything to follow him.

Though we can’t literally walk with Jesus in physical form today, the same desire, commitment, and attitude that was in the early disciples should be in us. We walk with Christ in spiritual form. Learn. We should be completely sold out to Christ, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, in death till we unite. Obey. Our lives should be established daily with Kingdom ideals. Imitate. Whether we work  in the Sacred or the Secular, we should attempt to live each day with the attitude of what can I do for Kingdom growth today, beginning first within ourselves in our attempts to mimic Christ, and extending to what we can we do for others – being and doing.

Christian refers to a Christ follower – Discipleship refers to a pupil, someone who is closely following a teacher. In ancient times, usually a religious leader of philosopher.

If we encourage true discipleship through an authentic commitment to what Jesus modeled in His life, the natural effects will be healthy individuals, healthy churches, and hopefully and extension of the Kingdom of God. Sadly, Jesus only had a handful of disciples and even they ran when times got tough. How much more so we need the sincerity of mutual relationships now that we are not walking in a physical reality with Jesus.  We must exemplify the power and the presence of the Holy Spirit and unity, to keep each other steadfast in the faith.

God will build His church. Jesus stated plainly that the rocks will praise him if we are not willing to. It is our responsibility to be true disciples and to disciple others. Church is not a club, a membership, a doctrine, creed or dogma – it is a living organism designed to represent Christ on earth, because we have turned from the old to follow The Way.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation:  that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God. God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God. 2Cor. 5:17-21

Do You Hate Your Neighbor as Yourself

It is impossible to be changed by God, if we do not accept and embrace the love of God for ourselves.

When a testy lawyer asked Jesus what he had to do to inherit eternal life, Jesus replied that it was necessary for him to Love the Lord with all his heart, soul, strength, and mind and love your neighbor as yourself. That pretty much encompasses everything from who we are, to what we do. Luke 10:25 -37) A true Christ follower will be, and do.

When the lawyer pressed him as to who was “his neighbor,” Jesus went on to instruct the lawyer about the man who had been beaten and tossed aside on the Jericho road. Both a Priest and a Levite had passed by the man, avoiding going near him, even passing by on the other side of the road. Then a Samaritan went by and was moved with compassion. He helped the man at his own expense. Once again we see an example of Samaritans as recognizing the Messiah, this time not by being, as the woman at the well did when she acknowledge Jesus as Lord, but in the example of doing the things of God. The despised Samaritans loving and serving the Lord completely. Hmm.

Throughout the bible we see acts of justice as a main theme – and if there was one thing Jesus was passionate about, it is acts of compassion and social justice. The purpose of hanging out and helping hurting, downtrodden, and lost people, is that they may witness something bigger in us – something outside of ourselves – and be inspired by it to want the change. We do the serving and Jesus does the changing.

How can we love others as ourselves if we don’t love ourselves? We may have lots of fruit, speak in Christianeze, even do some works, and yet not really embrace God’s love for ourselves. Eventually we burn out, get cynical, despise the constant falling short of who we think we should be, and never find the heart of Christ in ministry. We hate, more than we love ourselves.

Work for the sake of work is work – work for the sake of love, is Jesus.  

When we see ourselves as perfectly created in the image of God and allow him to love us into perfection, we can love others more perfectly. Somehow our own flawed and fallen humanity, humbles us into a beautifully marred and chipped work of art. If we don’t love our own art, we won’t appreciate the canvases that are just beginning to witness their first brush strokes. We will get offended at the scribbles and neglect to instruct the artist in proper techniques, nor embrace the uniqueness and individuality of the piece.

Seeing ourselves as Christ sees us is the catalyst for change in us. Anger, fear, pain, heartache, addictions, loneliness, depression…whatever we are facing begins to melt away when we embrace the love God has for us. The struggles of this life decrease as the measure of His love increases. Then and only then, can we love our neighbor.

A Twisted Path

I was short with my son Samuel -again.  I neglected to focus on the most important tasks in my day – again. I spent money I didn’t have on a Latte – again. I fell back into thoughts of my Judas experience – again. I lost focus on the task at hand – again.  I was mad at Dave – again. And again. I neglected to seek guidance – again. I lacked patience with my loved ones – again. I didn’t spend enough “alone” time with Jesus. Again. And again. And again. And again.

The words of condemnation used to ring in my ears second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour, whispering lies about how far away God was from me – and me from him . The road to follow Christ is full of distractions both beautiful and scary, and very, very, long.  As a matter of fact, it lasts a lifetime. Like a GPS, sometimes the path to follow Jesus seems outdated or avoidant of certain roads; we get misdirected with a voice of “recalculating, recalculating…” ringing in our ears.

Instead of viewing the times I have felt completely lost as if I had thrown myself in reverse, I know it to be a mere delay in the journey forward. A pit stop along the way. Sometimes the stop literally is a pit – full of darkness, and I awaken confused, wondering how I ended up miles away from where I started. It’s as if some force sucked me backwards along a dark highway at 75 miles per hour and I am completely discouraged by thoughts of, “…how on earth did I end up here – again?”

Discouragement leads to disillusionment, and disillusionment leads to despair.             

Discouragement can be defined as: to deprive of the will to persist in something.

Disillusionment can be defined as: to destroy the ideals of.

Despair can be defined as: loss of hope.

It took many years of failure to hear the voice that tells me my circumstances are not the focus, people are not the focus, sin management is not the focus, the road is not the focus, “What is that to you? You must follow me.”   (John 21:22)

I yelled at Sam again Lord. Sam, the one who is without guile and full of kindness, tender and deserving of my best. What is that to you, you must follow me. I fought with Dave again Lord, when he was trying so hard to make amends. Take my hand and come with me. I didn’t act with love towards my enemy today. Take my hand and come with me. I didn’t’ seek counsel when I should have Lord. Follow me. I acted badly…I spent money I shouldn’t have… I missed it again Lord, and again, and again…

Follow me. Follow me. Follow me. Stay persistent, keep the ideals, always moving forward in hope. 

I open my eyes to the realization that somehow I am miles ahead of where I veered off, and I don’t even know how I got here. I am propelled by a force that keeps pulling me forward, even when I am too wore out to see the progress.  And then the realization hits me – I am not where I used to be. It’s a well traversed road, full of far more beauty than darkness.

I am following you Lord.

“being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Phil. 1:6

God is Here – 2

The view out of my front door is one of devastation, and poverty –  love and hope. I look through the children’s playground, from the San Jose Elementary School turned Mercy In Action, maternal health care/ birthing/ medical clinic, to broken walls, debris, roofless, tarp covered, plywood, homes, and coconut trees that have been snapped in half by the wind, and now line the beach.

As I am writing this, a mother just came in with her young son as he seizes for the second time that day. He had already been seen this morning, by the group of German doctors  from the NGO, NAVIS, who also serve here twice a week.  The nurses and EMT’s are doing the best they can to help this child, knowing there is often little they can do that hasn’t already been done. They will bring some measure of comfort as well as practical help, all done in the name of the One who loves the child most.

I am writing now with my T-Shirt covering my nose as the burning trash out back has

San Jose, Dulag, Philippines

aggravated some serious upper respiratory issues I sometimes have, and I feel very ill.  I am praying that God will keep me healthy to serve – as serve I must. That is what I am here for.

I have to find my feet (or God’s feet) – I am going to cook and organize, sweep, and listen – help where needed, and wait for God to open the doors.  I want to support Mercy in Action staff first – as I know some of them are here for weeks already and it doesn’t take long to get weary in a disaster zone.  As I teach the ones I train in compassion ministry  – a Chaplains first calling is to serve  – a ministry of presence takes on many forms.  Though I have yet to speak with more than a few of the local people, Vic has shown me around and shared the many needs, to validate what I knew before coming into this disaster zone – there is no short of traumatic needs here.  “Whom shall I send. Lord send me.”  May the cry of my heart be to the glory of Jesus. I love serving as a chaplain.