Caution: Possible Memories Just Ahead

Ah, the family vacation.  Take any set of humans out of their normal habitat for an extended period of time, drop them into a strange, foreign land, and, well, stuff happens.  On the way there, on the way back, and everywhere in between, stuff happens.  You know, stuff like leaving one of the kids back at a gas station, because you forgot to count all six of them before departing.  Or having to shorten an extended camping trip because one of the little guys gets the mumps.  But in truth, these special times, these “parentheses” in our lives often become some of the richest treasures in our memory bank.

For me, it was my first trip to Six Flags Over Texas, which, as a ten year old, seemed like another universe from my normal life.  Talk about sensory overload.  Terrifying roller coasters and log rides, pulsating music, scenic boat excursions, spending the day on a constant sugar high—what’s not to like? But in looking back, what really made it extraordinary was that my mom and dad actually seemed relaxed and, as a family, we were all focused on just having fun.  Removed from all the usual stress and routine of life, their personalities seemed to morph before my very eyes.  Who were these people, and what had they done with my parents?

In a way, it’s kind of sad that as a culture we are so reliant on “getting away” to slow down, to relax, and to focus on the things and people that really mean the most to us.   Somewhere along the way, we’ve lost the ability to savor our surroundings and treasure our loved ones in the moment. We say things like “where did the time go?” and “they grow up so fast.”  Truth is, we get so distracted with the urgent that we miss the important.  And before we know it, the kids are grown and gone and we wonder where did the time go.  Well, in fact, no one stole it.  We gave it away.  To other things… lesser things.  And other people...from someone else’s family.

One of my favorite modern song writers, Chris Rice penned a commentary on this issue a few years back, entitled “Life Means So Much.” 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZbEAZ5KUM0

“Life Means So Much”

Every day is a journal page 

Every man holds a quill and ink 

 And there's plenty of room for writing in  

All we do is believe and think

So will you compose a curse 

 Or will today bring the blessing

 Fill the page with rhyming verse   

Or some random sketching

Teach us to count the days 

Teach us to make the days count 

 Lead us in better ways 

 That somehow our souls forgot 

 Life means so much 

Every day is a bank account 

 And time is our currency 

 So nobody's rich, nobody's poor 

We get 24 hours each 

So how are you gonna spend 

 Will you invest, or squander 

Try to get ahead 

 Or help someone who's under

Has anybody ever lived who knew the value of a life 

And don't you think giving is all  

What proves the worth of yours and mine

Every day is a gift you've been given 

Make the most of the time every minute you're living

I was introduced to this song in a most remarkable way.  A few years ago, my kids surprised my wife and me with a wonderful sampling of photos they had collected or taken over several years.  The video began with our own wedding picture, then each of theirs, and then pictures (for several minutes with accompanying songs) highlighting the early stages of our grandchildren’s lives.  Not posed pictures with hands folded.  These were the true stuff of life.  Swinging in the park.  Blowing bubbles.  Bedtime stories.  Opening Christmas presents.  The last song on this original video was Life Means So Much, and both my wife and I ended up in an emotional puddle!  We were so thankful for the incredible blessing each of our children and grandchildren had and have been in our lives and that these moments had actually been captured on film!

 

In truth, every day is a gift we've been given. It takes intentionality to make the most of the time every minute we're living.  It takes making good choices.  Saying yes to some things and no to others.  I think one reason we so freely give our time away to lesser things is pretty simple.  For most of us, our natural default is not to place a high value on time…on now...on today.  Moses prayed in Psalm 90 for God to “teach us to number our days and to apply our hearts to wisdom.”  Chris Rice simply paraphrased it in the modern vernacular:  “Teach us to count the days; teach us to make the days count .”     

  

The One who has ordained the number of our days has to teach us to live in the moment.  Left to ourselves, we tend to live as if time will never run out.  Much like the makeup opportunities we have for everything from missed piano lessons to college entrance exams, we assume that we can always do just about anything later.

As you hopefully look forward to a slower pace in the coming weeks and spending time with those ones most dear to you, also begin now to anticipate creating special memories.  Make these moments less about random sketching as Rice calls it, and more about a kind of rhyming verse, intentionally finding more opportunities for beauty and harmony in your own little world.  Believe me, those whom you love the most will not soon forget it.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             tad

Dear Dad,

As we approach another Father’s Day, I wanted to share some thoughts with you as if you were still here, and we were having a conversation.  Writing this is probably much more for me than you, if King Solomon is to be believed, when he wrote:

For the living know that they will die, but the dead know nothing; 

they have no further reward, and even their name is forgotten.

 Their love, their hate and their jealousy have long since vanished;

never again will they have a part in anything that happens under the sun.

  (Ecclesiastes 9: 5-6)

I guess I need to say some things that didn’t get said when you were still alive.  Maybe I took certain things for granted.  Maybe I assumed you always knew.  Call it fear that you might reject it.  That last fear would not be without some history.  I remember once walking in on you breaking down with emotion as your wife—my mom—lay dying in the same room.  When I approached you and attempted to comfort you with my arm over your shoulders, I was immediately rebuffed.  You quickly dried your eyes, stiffened up, and said you were fine.  I realized then a bit of how God must feel when I don’t let Him love me.

But that is but one memory.  And I now know that no one incident or character trait should ever be allowed to define us, to reduce us to less than we really are.  You were complex, Dad.  Somehow you managed to pastor churches, superintend a family of eight, keep your sense of humor, and keep up your golf game.  As a child, I never feared coming home to find you drunk, abusive, or even inappropriate.  Most of all, I never questioned whether you would be there.  Maybe not in the “I need you right now, Dad, can we hang?” kind of way, but certainly it never entered my mind that you would leave.  And you didn’t.  For that, can I just say thanks?

I never feared you using me as a punching bag verbally or otherwise if you had a bad day at the office.  You were, as dads go, safe.  Even though you, as a natural athlete, could easily have favored the two brothers (also natural athletes) born before me, I never sensed you were disappointed with my more artistic leanings.  In fact, I heard through many other sources later in life that you were quite lavish with praise for my gifts, at least when I was not present.  You did, after all, never want me to take credit for anything God-given. 

I believe your favorite Bible story had to be the parable of the prodigal son.  It reeked with grace—God’s undeserved favor, and that concept literally flavored everything you did and stood for.  You were a champion of grace.  If I could have written your epitaph, it would have simply said: He got it. You got it alright, Dad, and you clearly imparted it to me and our whole family.  I vividly remember a real life sermon you gave me as a teenager. 

When I asked you if I could take my girlfriend to a particular movie across town one Saturday night, you quickly responded ‘no’.  It’s too “adult,” you said (which, by today’s standards, means it’s probably playing in syndication on Nickelodeon).   Anyway, being the typical non-compliant, if not rebellious, teenager I was, what did I do?  I drove straight to that theater with my girlfriend and saw the movie anyway.  I figured what you didn’t know wouldn’t hurt you.  Unfortunately, when my car wouldn’t start after the show (probably around 11:00 o’clock that night), you were my last option for a ride home. When you asked me on the phone where exactly I was, the proverbial jig was up. 

And it was a lon-n-n-n-ng ride home, I might add, with my date sitting next to me.  Talk about adding insult to injury.  But then came Part One of the “sermon.”  And, Dad, it was the quietest sermon you ever preached. There was no haranguing on the way home, no angry lecture when I got home.  Instead, dead silence.  You simply let my guilt marinate and let me go to bed in that silence.  The next day in church, I remember getting convicted by the Holy Spirit big time and deciding to opt out of going to communion. You being my dad and my pastor, I knew all too well who would be serving me that meal. You, Dad.  The one I had lied to. The one I had resented. The one I had failed to trust.

And you noticed my absence.   At lunch that day, you took me aside and said, “Tim, why didn’t you go to communion today?”  I responded, “How could I, Dad?  I felt so unworthy.”  I’ll never forget your reply: “It’s those very times we need it the most.”  I knew exactly what you meant.  When we feel most weighed down by our guilt, Jesus gives this simple offer: Taste and see that the Lord is good.  And if Jesus could forgive me, so could you.  Message received.

That was you, Dad.  You got it.  And if I thank God for anything this Father’s Day, it is because of your example and tenacity in this truth, that I get it, too.  They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.  Well, if this was what you had hoped for—that your children and your children’s children would understand the grace of God, then I believe you have a big stack of happy apples right underneath you.  To honor you today, may I never take God’s grace for granted and never forget the seeds you planted in my life.  I love you, Dad.  Happy Father’s Day...’til we meet again.                                                                                                                                                                                                          

                                                                                                                       tad

Pastor’s Point: Parting Thoughts

I drove past a cemetery the other day and thought about how long it’s been since I’ve strolled through one of those tombstone gardens.  On the surface, such an activity might sound kind of spooky.  But I’m talking about the intentional act of slowing down long enough to actually reflect on my own mortality.  Nothing is as effective in reminding us that these bodies don’t live forever quite like looking at the names of real people carved in stone… and their dates.  Sooner or later, the healthiest of us end up with dates.  You know, the kind that say the year we were born and the year we died.  Grim thought, I know, and if it’s too maudlin a topic for some of you, bear with me for a few minutes. 

If you are reading this right now, then you only have a date—one date—the year you were born.  But the other one is coming, and at some point, wise people do put thought into what will be the summary of their life when they reach their second date.  Sometimes these summary statements are written on one’s grave marker as an epitaph. But just as often, these inscriptions simply reflect a parting thought about the deceased or life in general.

Here are samplings of both, some flattering, and others…well, not so much:

All you good people
that here pass by
as you are now 

so once was I,

 as I am now 

so shall you be;
therefore prepare
to follow me.

The children of Israel wanted bread
And the Lord sent them manna,
Old clerk Wallace wanted a wife,
And the Devil sent him Anna. 

Here lies Ann Mann,

Who lived an old maid

But died and old Mann

Here lies an Atheist

All dressed up

And no place to go

On a dentist:

Stranger tread

This ground with gravity

Dentist Brown

Is filling his last cavity

On an auctioneer:

Jedediah Goodwin

Auctioneer

Born 1828

Going! 

Going!!

Gone!!!

First a Cough

Carried Me Off

Then a Coffin

They Carried Me Off In

Here lies

Ezekial Aikle

Age 102

The Good

Die Young

Here lies 

Johnny Yeast

Pardon me 

For not rising

Here lies Lester Moore

Four slugs from a .44

No Les

No More

Here lies the body of our Anna

Done to death by a banana

It wasn't the fruit that laid her low

But the skin of the thing that made her go

Looked up the elevator shaft

to see if the car 

was on the way down.

It was.

Under the sod and under the trees

Lies the body of Jonathan Pease.

He is not here, there's only the pod:

Pease shelled out and went to God

Good men must die,

but death cannot kill their names

-Proverb

God will not look you over

for medals, degrees or diplomas,

but for scars

She filled every second of her life

with laughter, love and happiness

They loved their Lord with all their heart,

with all their mind, and with all their spirit.

There was grace in her steps,

love in every gesture.

They gave their today for our tomorrow.

He loved and was loved.

I am not afraid of tomorrow,

for I have seen yesterday

and loved today

His courage, his smile, his grace gladdened the hearts 

of those who have had the privilege of loving him.

It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died.

Rather we should thank God that such men lived.

-George S. Patton, Jr.

The challenge of summarizing one’s life in a few words or verses is fairly obvious.  A life…in a few words?  Lives are works…not words.  Talk is cheap.  At the end of one’s life, the adjectives from others will be less important than the verbs which inspired them.  What we did, who we were in this life; these are the things that matter most. At the end of his Gospel, the apostle John had this to say about the life of Jesus:

Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, 

I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.

Notice, he didn’t say, “That Jesus, he was a great talker.” Rather, He did many things well.  He was a doer.  Just imagine John trying to write an epitaph for Jesus.  Fortunately for John…for all of us, Jesus didn’t stay dead! 

In the first century, the Apostle Paul wrote a letter to a church in Ephesus, encouraging the believers with these simple words:

…live a life worthy of the calling you have received.

Think about it—live a worthy life.  As opposed to a worthless life.  A life not amounting to anything.  A wasted life.  A directionless, purposeless life.  

Paul’s statement was full of grace and truth.  Based on the calling you have received (grace), choose a life worth living (truth). In other words, Christian, don’t settle.  Don’t just get by.  Don’t squander what’s been given to you.  Paul also believed that what makes a life worthy is not up for discussion.  It’s not up for a vote.  The only One capable of rendering a verdict on the value of my life is the same One who made me.  Writing to another church, Paul put it this way:

I care very little if I am judged by you or by any human court; 

indeed, I do not even judge myself.

My conscience is clear, but that does not make me innocent. 

It is the Lord who judges me.

Therefore judge nothing before the appointed time; wait until the Lord comes.

He will bring to light what is hidden in darkness and will expose the motives of the heart.

At that time each will receive their praise from God. - I Corinthians 4:3-5

So where do we go from here? Know that it’s never too late to start over. Consider one of Stephen Covey’s 7 Habits for Highly Effective People:

Begin with the End in Mind

Regardless of what your past has been, you can start today deciding how you want others to remember you after you’re gone.  It may not even be a bad exercise to contemplate just what that epitaph might say if you could have some say in it.  In truth, no one has a better chance to affect its contents than you yourself.  No one but you…and the One who lives in you.  

tad