And… technology tripped me up once again. If you are a subscriber to this blog and got notification that I had posted about “How to Create an Oasis When Life is a Desert”, I apologize for publishing it prematurely. Erica McNeal’s book does not launch until Monday. I will re-publish the post then. Aaaaaack!
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The Significance of a Single, Well-Lived Life
While our culture values flash and sizzle and the goal of many continues to be fame and fortune, one trait always equals success in God’s economy: faithfulness. I am privileged to have been raised by a father who modeled that trait every day of his life and continues to do so at almost 90 years old.
This remarkable man, Wallace Rivers, is featured today on Jeremy Statton’s blog: www.jeremystatton.com/wallace-rivers. Won’t you stop by and read about him? And while you’re there, enjoy all the other great content Jeremy has to offer to help you “live a better story”.
“Children’s children are a crown to the aged, and parents are the pride of their children.” Proverbs 17:6 (NIV)
A Lesson from Smudge the Dog
Last Sunday I came home from church and Smudge, our 15 ½ year old Jack Russell terrier, was SO glad to see me it was, well, ridiculous. Dancing around, doing spins, leaping in the air, yipping like a puppy.
I was kind of pleased at first – I mean, who doesn’t want to get that kind of crazy-happy welcome? (I am pretty awesome.) But then she just wouldn’t calm down. She IS a Jack Russell. I wanted the mayhem to stop so I reprimanded her firmly.
Didn’t work.
Then, you know what I realized? SHE DIDN’T HAVE ANY WATER.
She was glad to see me because she knew I was the answer to her problem: She was thirsty, I was the source of water, and that made her happy! She trusted that now that I was home and she had my attention, she was going to get what she needed.
That didn’t initially occur to me because it wasn’t the kind of reaction I might have had if I were dependent on someone else to meet my basic needs. I would have probably been all whiny and dramatic, maybe trying to elicit guilt or pity to get what I needed.
But not Smudge.
I started thinking about whether that would be a better approach for me as a human. What if when I am confused or fearful, instead of praying about it in a whining, begging kind of way, I truly believed that prayer would reveal the answer to me and I got excited? Seriously, that’s not my default response.
How humbling.
And yet, isn’t God the source of all that I need? Maybe not always what I want in the moment, but truly what I need? What if I really came to grips with that and with the fact that when I pray, I have God’s attention, and He is far more faithful to give me what’s best for me than I am to give Smudge what’s best for her?
I’m going to try that. I’m going to pray and focus on the fact that God knows and wants what’s best for me and I’m going to choose to be excited for that. I may not dance around and spin. I certainly won’t yip like a puppy (how undignified), but I’m going to trust that He’s the Giver of all good gifts and He wants to give His best to me.
It worked for Smudge. She got a full bowl of clean, cool water and lapped it up appreciatively.
How do you approach God – exuberant and expectant like Smudge, knowing you’re going to get what you need? Or tentative and apologetic, like me? Have you ever learned a lesson about God from your pet(s)? Please share in the comments!
Is This An Alien Footprint?
Maybe. I’ve wondered and imagined and told random children it was. But the truth is, before I bought my house 22 years ago, my neighbors tell me there was a fish pond in the backyard. It had a sidewalk leading up to it and a little bridge going over it.
Sounds lovely.
When they decided they were done with the annoying upkeep, though, apparently they broke up the sidewalk and took out the bridge, then just filled the fish pond with dirt and planted grass on top of it. Now every time the temperature goes above 80 or two days pass without rain, the grass dies in this shape.
Ugh.
I didn’t know this before I bought the house because I closed on it in the middle of winter, when there was snow covering the grass.
I once talked to a landscaping service about digging the darn thing up and it was just too expensive, so I live with this ugly eyesore in my backyard. It’s a good reminder of a couple of things:
- Deep roots are critical for real growth. That’s such an in-your-face object lesson it almost doesn’t even need to be said. But I sometimes need to be reminded that I can be as shallow as that grass if I don’t cultivate some depth in my life.
- What’s buried never really goes away. My lawn looks great as long as the conditions are ideal. But that fish pond is still there, heavy and useless, just under the surface. If I want a perfect backyard (is there such a thing?), I’m going to have to get that thing taken out. It’s going to cost me and it’s going to be involved. What’s buried in my life that needs to be removed for me to be healthy?
- I settle for less than perfection a lot. That’s not really a bad thing, as long as I don’t get all frustrated and weird when things aren’t perfect. If I don’t want to have to explain the dead patch to guests, I either have to get it fixed or I have to not care. But I can’t get mad at the grass for not growing.
What do you see in this patch of dead grass? Are there any other lessons to be learned (or are there any bored landscapers out there who find it offensive and want to come help me out?)
The Best Kind of Copycat
Dreams are weird; I think we can all agree on that. They rarely make sense and they can be disturbing, especially if there’s spicy food involved. Sometimes, though, a dream can be thought-provoking, even thrilling, and you don’t want it to end. Have you ever had one of those?
Not long ago, I dreamed I was running on a flat, rock-strewn desert trail. I was all alone and I don’t know why I was there. It was hot and unappealing and I was struggling to keep going.
As I slogged along, a man appeared seemingly out of nowhere up ahead of me who was gliding along effortlessly. It was mesmerizing to watch him. It was obvious he was enjoying himself and rather than becoming fatigued, he seemed energized by the effort he was expending. 
I decided to imitate him. I began to measure my stride so that it matched up with his. I swung my arms the same way he did and bounced in unison with his steps.
He began to deviate from the path so I did the same and found myself below a huge canopy of trees, still only a few yards behind him. It was cool and refreshing even though we were increasing our pace and the trees were melting into a blur around us.
Then he adopted a strange skip-like step that made it look like he was floating between footfalls. Again, I did the same, springing along with the same rhythm and almost immediately, I was looking down on the trees while willing myself upward with my mind. When I touched the ground, I would catapult back up, higher and higher with each stride. I kept my eyes on this unusual apparition of a man and did everything he did. I had the clear sense I could go on forever just by imitating him. It was invigorating and effortless – I squealed with delight.
And woke myself up.
The dream probably lasted less than a minute in real time but I awoke feeling, of all things, hopeful. Now isn’t than an unusual thing, to wake up feeling hopeful after a dream that had me floating over rough terrain and bouncing above trees at blinding speed? I should have been exhausted.
But I think the key in that short dream sequence had been the presence of that man ahead of me and recognizing that if I carefully mirrored his actions and did what he did, I could go far beyond my own natural capabilities.
I’m not saying my dreams always make sense or that I glean any kind of lesson from most of them. In fact, if I remember them at all, sometimes they just make me sad. But this one seemed to have a message for me:
How often do I spend my waking hours with my eyes glued in defeat to the craggy trail ahead of me? How often have I let other people influence my opinion of myself and tell me what I’m capable of? How many times have I missed seeing “Someone” right in front of me who would show me my real potential, if I just followed the example He set?
My hopefulness came from recognizing that God, through his Holy Spirit, is on this life journey with me. He wants to lead me and has made it possible for me to hear from Him through prayer and His word. He has put others on this same desert path with me who have received wisdom from Him that they will gladly share. I know by letting Him show the way and set the pace, I can bring glory to Him in ways I could never even imagine on my own.
And I was encouraged.
I think the next night I dreamed about a wild-eyed guy at the Secretary of State’s office who had 7-foot dreadlocks and told me his name was Verdunk Isthmus. I don’t know WHAT that was about.
I Used the Right Tool the Wrong Way. Again.
Let’s be honest. If I wanted to hide, I wouldn’t stick a hundred hedge clippers in the ground and crouch behind them, I’d find a cave or a big rock and hunker down. If I wanted to protect my skull from fracture, I wouldn’t duct tape a bunch of putty knives to my scalp, I’d get a helmet.
Just like it makes no sense to use hedge clippers as a wall or putty knives as a hat, it makes no sense to reduce my prayers to a defensive tactic – a flurry of words to ward off doom – when they are intended to be a powerful connection with an Almighty God.
Sadly, I do this regularly.
Here’s an example: My daughter was having surgery one day last week and I asked everyone I could think of to pray for her. Neither her life nor her long term health was in danger, but you wouldn’t have known it by the way I was storming the gates of Heaven with my petitions. I was cowering before God, asking Him to protect her, calm her, make her recovery swift and complete. And I guess I was hoping that if enough people joined in and echoed my concerns, the numbers might impress Him and He might decide to act. Have you ever done that?
After the surgery, she was in pain for days and the only time I felt I could relax and not worry about her was NOT when I was praying – which would have been the good Christian approach – but when the doctor was with her and reassuring me she was healing just fine. I had faith that she was safe in the hands of the doctor but apparently I didn’t rest in the knowledge that she was even safer in the arms of the Great Physician.
I pray and pray about things, fearing that if I stop, things will get worse. It’s as if deep down, I don’t think I’m really going to get a positive answer from God; I’m just trying to hold disaster at bay. Do I think my volley of words-words-words can do that?
I frantically keep it up, repeating the same requests over and over. If I were of another faith tradition, I might be lighting candles, chanting mantras, or flailing myself with a stick. And I would be no more successful in personally controlling the outcome than if I said or did nothing.
My lack of faith astounds me. And even worse is the way my actions insult God by implying He isn’t good; that He can’t be trusted.
We use the term “prayer warrior”, because our prayers are an offensive weapon – against evil, apathy, and pain. Our prayers can DO something, not just KEEP something from happening.
I want to be humble in my prayers, accepting that the outcome of all I pray for is ultimately in God’s hands and that He is good. But I don’t want to be shrinking and sobbing, fearing the worst. I devalue my own prayers when I do that; I want to be confident that God is trustworthy.
I don’t think I’m alone in this dilemma, am I?
Every Friday I have a standing phone “date” with my Dad, always my go-to spiritual resource and mentor. I asked him what he thought about this . . . this apparent lack of faith, this weakness of mine. You know what he told me?
“Honey, the Devil can’t take away your eternal salvation- that is assured – but he can mess with your witness and make you miserable. He can make you doubt and worry and take your focus off God. That’s when you run into problems like this. Just keep your eyes on God. He’s always glad to hear from you, even when you’re wringing your hands. I’m sure He just wishes you wouldn’t worry about things He already has under control.”
That’s the key. Stop letting the Enemy get me in a ditch with his foot on my neck. Keep my focus on God, not on myself or my need to control things. Remember that my prayers are a strong connection to the One who has already won the battle and longs to comfort me, not a desperate deflecting tactic from a position of weakness. I have no reason to be fatalistic when I have all of Heaven on my side.
Can you relate to this? Feel free to weigh in with your comments below.
The Critical Importance of Sunsets, Easter Bonnets, and Pie
Have you thought about how you came to have (or not have) faith? Where and how your traditions and the things you believe about God were formed? What formed the basis for your personal beliefs as an adult?
Many of my friends come from faith backgrounds very different from mine and I am always fascinated to hear how they came to embrace the beliefs they now have. Sadly, some have specifically rejected the idea of “religion” altogether and have gone their own way. Theirs are interesting, if wrenching, stories, too.
For me faith took root in my family, specifically the Christian upbringing I was afforded by my parents. Generations before me believed in God and in the divinity and sacrifice of Jesus to redeem humanity from sin. Those beliefs were incorporated into our daily routine and the rhythm of life in general.
We prayed before meals. It seemed we went to church every time the doors were opened (my Dad was – and still is – a pastor, at the age of 89). Everyone in our family had their own Bible (the King James Version, naturally!) We studied and memorized Scripture passages, many of which come to mind now when I need them most.
Our family’s social life revolved around the church. Fellowships, potluck dinners (we called them “dinner on the grounds” – a very confusing concept to me as a child), Wednesday night “suppers”. We were Baptists, so we enjoyed pie and coffee at church members’ homes, never a cocktail or a game of cards.
Of course, we always got new clothes to wear on Easter – maybe even a “bonnet” – usually from the Sears catalog!
We acknowledged God in the beauty of creation. Growing up in Key West meant we were constantly reminded of His presence all around us. I specifically remember my mother looking at a breathtaking sunset one evening as we sat on lawn chairs in the front yard after dinner, and saying, “How can anyone say there is no God?” I was about 8 at the time but to this day, when I look at a sunset I remember the awe and sincerity in her voice and I am grateful to the One responsible.
When we visited relatives in North Florida and South Carolina, we practiced the same traditions and shared an understanding and acceptance of the same truths. Faith in God, faith in Christ, these were indisputable and foundational.
When my mother succumbed to cancer in 1997, the assurance of her eternal destiny and the certainty that I would be reunited with her in Heaven were what got me through – and continue to comfort me now.
Faith. I personally don’t believe it can be inherited from your parents nor can you “vaccinate” your own children with it. But it certainly can be modeled – with consistency and depth. How fortunate and thankful I am for my parents, for those who came before them, and for our church community, all of whom brought their faith to me in tangible and memorable ways and helped me make it my own.
Did your family traditions help you form your personal faith? What values were modeled to you through the rhythms and routines of your young life? What are some of your most significant memories?
Mining the Treasure of the Second Verse
When was the last time you heard a new Thanksgiving hymn? There are the old standards that many of us recognize, perhaps from our childhoods: “We Gather Together”, “Come, Ye Thankful People, Come”, “Now Thank We All Our God”. But since Thanksgiving is mostly a single weekend observance – and sadly, one that is overshadowed now by “Black Friday” and the start of Christmas shopping season – it’s rare we hear a new take on Thanksgiving songs. The lyrics of the traditional hymns are beautiful, the melodies memorable and it’s all so, well, comfortable. Nothing wrong with that.
Just a few days ago, however, I read in Psalm 96: “Sing to the LORD a new song; sing to the LORD, all the earth.” Since I’m no composer/songwriter, what would that look like for me? How could I sing a “new song” to thank God for all my blessings? I decided to look past the familiar first verses of these old songs to the second verses, to consider where the hymn writers went with them next. It was a great exercise in examining things a little differently and perhaps more deeply.
Here’s an example. Verse 2 of “Now Thank We All Our God”, a song written in the late 1500s, says:
O may this bounteous God
Thro’ all our life be near us,
With ever joyful hearts
And blessed peace to cheer us;
And keep us in His grace,
And guide us when perplexed,
And free us from all ills
In this world and the next.
The evidence is clear here that God is a bounteous God – His presence, His peace, His grace, His guidance and His deliverance; all are listed among His blessings to make the case for His generosity. (And I love the reference to being perplexed!) The songwriter encompasses the full span of our human experience: “all our life”, “in this world and the next”. What a wonderful reminder to keep the long view and remain joyful!
How about you? What is your favorite Thanksgiving hymn? How does the second (or third or fourth) verse help you to worship God with a “new song” this Thanksgiving?
My Slap in the Face Six-Word Memoir
Capturing the essence of your life in exactly six words has become a fascinating and oddly clarifying past-time. I even saw there has been a board game created around this concept just in time for Christmas. It’s being promoted as “Twitter meets Password” and the object of the game is for teams to compete to create and identify hundreds of topics based on six-word descriptions.
Somehow, calling it a micro-memoir is more appealing and less final than, say, thinking of it as an epitaph, though there are some great six-word epitaphs that seem to qualify as memoirs in their own way (think, “I told you I was sick” or “At last I get top billing”).
My daughter was recently asked to come up with a six-word memoir for a job application and we both spent the next several hours blurting out funny (and some not so funny) combinations of words that told our stories within those parameters. The one I came up with that really seemed to resonate with me also made me kind of sad. Here it is:
“I never did get it right.”
True, my life isn’t over yet so I still have time to “get it right”. After all, this is just a six-word memoir, not my epitaph. But summing up my life that way sounded so negative and defeated. I want to be more optimistic than that and I have every reason to be. In many ways, I have led a fascinating and even charmed life. I have always been deeply loved (maybe that would be a better six-word memoir) and my Christian faith has sustained me (another one).
But by some standard in my own mind, the phrase: “I never did get it right” reverberated and taunted me. And there are days I let that define me.
No, I never did get it right. But you know what the truth is? Neither did you. Neither did the most accomplished among us. And that’s really okay. It’s good to try, but if we could get it right (whatever that means by your definition, which is no doubt different from mine), we would have no need of each other and no need of God. We would be sinless, and Jesus’ death would have been irrelevant.
I think I’ll accept imperfection, how about you?
Do you have a six-word memoir you would share … and maybe explain?
Why Singleness Is a Lot Like Green Beans
Remember when you were a kid and your parents would get frustrated with you because you wouldn’t eat your vegetables? Your mom would try to convince you that they were good for you (as if that were a compelling reason for a 9-year old to eat something like green beans). Finally, in a fit of exasperation your dad would boom, “You will EAT them and you will LIKE them or you won’t be allowed to (fill in the blank)!”
I think that’s when I first got really good at passive aggressiveness. Okay, I would eat them, but he could NOT make me like them!
Yes, I know, some kids were crazy about green beans, but I wasn’t one of them. It took a while for me to find something about them that could get me past their taste and texture to actually choose them as part of my diet. Certainly, my taste buds had to mature; but more important, I had to mature enough to see the big picture: that my health was key to my happiness.
My mother was right; those green beans were loaded with nutrients that made them good for me and that was reason enough for me to eat them and eventually come to like them. Now they bring back memories of Thanksgiving casseroles and the particular warmth and aroma of my Grandmother’s kitchen (especially if you throw in some cream of mushroom soup and a can of those fried onions).
Singleness can hit us the same way. Maybe deep down we know being single could be the best thing for us right now. We may have some work to do on ourselves before we have any business being in another relationship. We may even know that singleness could actually be a wise choice for our long-term happiness.
Fine. But darn if we’re going to like it!
We stamp our foot (figuratively, of course) and refuse to consider that God may have something important to teach us during this season and that it could actually turn out to be a time of unparalleled spiritual growth and emotional healing. We don’t want to approach singleness with a sense of expectation and humility; we just want to be in a relationship!
Turns out, green beans won’t kill you. They might even make you healthier, if you make them a regular part of your diet. (And go easy on the cream of mushroom soup and fried onions!)
I’m pretty sure singleness won’t kill you either. You could even find something about this season to like, as you look at the big picture and choose to trust that God will use your present to form your future.
Now. About Brussels sprouts . . .