Time for Your Check-Up

A couple months ago, I had surgery to prepare for a dental implant. It was a process I had put off for almost thirty years. Because of my procrastination, it could have been so much worse; because of God's grace, I was spared the pain, the trouble, and the cost. I was finally able to get moving by assuring myself it was three simple visits: the initial surgery, a follow-up exam to prepare the site for the cap, and a trip to my dentist for the cap. One. Two. Three. And done. Turns out I was mistaken. There have been multiple exams afterward. The follow-up. The follow-up to the follow-up. The pre-preparation visit. My next visit should be the site prep. Each of the visits after the surgery has lasted less time than it takes me to drive to the surgeon's office. Each visit after the surgery has consisted of a few "uh-huhs," "okays," and an "Alright, we'll see ya back in..." After finding out there was a follow-up, I was discouraged. After finding there was a follow-up to the follow-up, I was annoyed. On the day of the pre-preparation visit, I almost canceled; this process was tedious and I wanted it over. 

If we are "doing it right," seasons in our walk with the Lord can seem the same way. Ephesians 5:15, tells us to "walk circumspectly." Our word circumspectly comes from Latin: circum- "around", and specere, "to look at" (think spectacles). We should be re-examining the past, evaluating our thoughts and actions today, all with an eye to bringing glory to God for generations to come. But, sometimes those examinations can become wearisome, as wearisome as some of the seasons we go through. Sometimes it seems as though we are hashing and rehashing the same feelings, issues, behaviors, and ideas. The goals we set are still there, still unreached. Our prayer list never seems to get any shorter. The things we were struggling with way back when seem to linger still today. We think if we could just get a firm footing and procure some sort of stability we could manage to do something truly worthwhile for the kingdom. But with every examination, the results are still the same: a few "uh-huhs," some "okays," and an "Alright, we'll see ya back in..." Status quo. 

God is the Great Physician. He knows what He's doing. Sometimes these examinations may seem like a waste of time. We feel healed. We feel ready for the next step. We don't want to review and rehash and re-evaluate only to walk out empty-handed. We want to believe God is doing something in us. And He is. Despite what we may or may not feel, God has promised to continue what He started unto completion. He wastes nothing and can use anything. Our growth or the healing in our situations is not dependent upon how we feel. Just because we haven't met our goals does not mean we haven't met God's goals. Just because our situation is as unstable or uncertain as it was last year does not mean we have remained the same. Just because our progress doesn't meet our standards doesn't mean it hasn't met God's. What is important is a circumspect walk, constantly seeking to grow, to have our hearts laid bare before the Holy Spirit that He might do His work in His way in His time. 

A Mark of His Mercy

"In appreciation for your years of service..." or something like that. The letter came instructing me how to shop for my retirement gift. There were plenty of gifts from which to choose, but, I couldn't find a thing. Call me high maintenance, but receiving a gift "in appreciation for" seems a little more authentic when I'm not shopping for it myself. And, while some of the selections were pragmatic -- a barbecue grill, a ladder, a wet vac -- I can't imagine, twenty years from now, pointing to a busted old air fryer and telling my grandchildren the story of my retirement. Isn't it the significance behind a token, not the token itself? Perhaps I'm spoiled because my God is a tough act to follow.

From Genesis to Revelation, Scripture reveals to us the tokens God has placed in our hands and in our hearts to remind us of aspects of His character. One such token is the rainbow, the symbol of God's promise He would never again flood the earth. But there is an interesting token recorded a couple of chapters prior. Abel and Cain approached God with their sacrifices, but God Cain's was unsatisfactory. God gently gave Cain the opportunity to repent and offer an acceptable sacrifice, but Cain refused. In his bitterness, he murdered Abel instead. God confronted him and meted out a threefold punishment: a curse on his relationship with the earth, with mankind, and with God. Cain cried out, "My punishment is greater than I can bear!" and expressed his fear that other men would try to kill him. God gave him a marker, a token; the Hebrew word is "ot," the same word used with regard to the rainbow. If I can just pause for a moment and address this whole exchange. Cain lamented his punishment but not his sin. Regardless, God gives Cain a token of His mercy. Let's face it, the "mark" whatever it was, would not keep anyone from killing Cain. God holds the power over life and death. In fact, given the nature of man, such a mark could even provoke some cowboy to try to off Cain just to prove a point. It appears to me, the mark itself was strictly for Cain's benefit: a visible token to Cain of God's merciful protection, a reminder to Cain God was sparing his life, however long He determined and allowing Cain even more time to repent and turn to the Lord. Now, that's personal and merciful.

God has always assured mankind of His character and work via evidence and memorials. In Exodus 12:13, God promised the blood of the Paschal lamb would protect that household from God's final plague when the Israelites were slaves in Egypt. The Holy Spirit is our guarantee, the Bible tells us, of everything God has promised those who trust in the blood of Christ. The sacraments, Communion and Baptism, were instituted to remind us of our union with Christ in death and resurrection. And every answer to prayer, every moment God loves on us and protects us and shows us mercy is a token. He is working in His time, in His way, and He has assured us by His word, represented by signs and manifestations of His character.

So, when did God give you His first token? Romans 5:8, says He proved His love to us by sending Jesus to suffer our punishment in our place "while we were sinners." Like Cain, we were remorseless, refusing to seek God and surrender to His will. He was merciful still. Romans 1:20, says the things that are made testify to the eternal power and divine nature of God. The seasons, coming on cue every year and the sun rising every morning assured us, even when we rejected Him, that God is quite real and He is working, blessing us with beauty and providing further opportunities to come to Him. The symbols of His love for us and His pledges to us have always been everywhere, even when we were unrepentant, so that we would repent. Now that's personal and merciful. 

And LOADS better than a floor stripper.

God's Word to the Wise Is Sufficient

"Mann tracht und Gott lacht." It's a Yiddish saying meaning, "Man plans and God laughs." It's laced with cynicism as though God is cruel in how He works: "We devise glorious plans, and God insists on messing them up for us." An adage more truthful might be, "A word to the wise is sufficient." 

I was reading Genesis 16, this morning. It was something in verse 2, that caught my eye; but first...

"Now the Lord had said to Abram:
'Get out of your country,
From your family
And from your father’s house,
To a land that I will show you.
I will make you a great nation;
I will bless you
And make your name great;
And you shall be a blessing.
I will bless those who bless you,
And I will curse him who curses you;
And in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed.'”

God's promise to Abram is recorded in Genesis 12:1-3. Abram would be a great nation. Traditionally, this meant Abram would have many strong male heirs to populate and lead a mighty people. But time passed, and still no heir -- not one. Abram began to think he'd missed something but God assured him, very clearly, a biological heir would come. But time passed, and still no heir -- not one. Sarah began to think God had missed something and devised her own plan:

"So Sarai said to Abram, 'See now, the Lord has restrained me from bearing children. Please, go in to my maid; perhaps I shall obtain children by her.' And Abram heeded the voice of Sarai."

Pay attention to the word Sarai uses, "perhaps." The Hebrew word is "ulay," and it occurs some forty-five times in the Old Testament -- not once in regard to God's promises. It is only when people plan something, usually for our own prosperity or recognition, that there is any reason for a "perhaps." Sarai wasn't sure if her scheme would work. Sarai can't see nine minutes into the future, much less nine months. But God certainly can. And Abram? Abram was the one to whom the Lord spoke, more than once! But Abram traded God's "I will," for Sarai's "perhaps." And it worked out terribly. If only they had rested in the word of the Lord. 

And that word was "finished." God said it, and it was as good as done. How much more true that is for us today! 2 Corinthians 1:19-20, tells us that, in Christ, God's promises are "yes and amen." If God promised, it will happen. God doesn't change His commitment or His integrity, the way people do when circumstances change. In Christ, God's promises are already fulfilled. Imagine reading an incredible, wonderful book. It's so good, you can't put it down. Three hundred pages covering three thousand years of human history! And you read it in four hours. You have a larger perspective than those who lived those events twenty-four hours at a time. You are not limited by time and space the way those in history were. That's the closest thing I can imagine to the Bible assuring us that everything God has promised has been fulfilled in Christ. We may not be seeing those things in the natural world just yet -- like Abram and Sarai -- but it is finished. In fact, Jesus said so.

Do I think God laughs when we step outside what He has promised and seek to gain those things for ourselves? Absolutely not. God is not cruel; it's not His nature; God is good and gracious to His people. It's His people, however, who sometimes choose to define goodness as we would like. It's His people, however, who determine grace should be given when we prefer. "Therefore know that the Lord your God, He is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and mercy for a thousand generations with those who love Him and keep His commandments;" (Deut. 7:9, emphasis mine) Rest on God's promises. Trust Him more and time Him less. Pray more and plan less. God's word to the wise is all we need.

Present Again

On Day 28 of The Story ADay Challenge, a friend and fellow author, Leslie Stack, offered the prompt: “Loretta’s face was hidden by the wide-brimmed hat boldly covered in ribbons and one rose. Rising slowly from the fourth pew, she raised her chin towards the minister and declared, 'I object.'” This is my attempt at doing it justice.

Present Again

"What's to be done with her?" Edmond queried.

"'What's to be done with her?'" Eliza parroted. "She's not a potato peel, Edmond! She's our aunt. We have to care for her."

"Care for her?! Don't you know Uncle Pete did everything for her? And I do mean everything. He kept the house and made her meals and dressed her and bathed her and-- Why, the only thing the woman does is eat and--"

"Edmond!" Eliza stopped him.

"Sleep," he finished, "I was going to say 'sleep.' We can't care for her like that. I have a job. You have your family and your school. You can't study for a degree, keep your home, and care for Aunt Loretta. She doesn't even speak, for Heaven's sake. She barely feeds herself. How are you going to do that?!"

"With your help, Brother Dear," Eliza snarked. "Now, come on. We've got to get going, the funeral home is here."

Edmond and Eliza loaded their aunt into the car. She was in her eighties now, but her body was as healthy as they get. Her mind, however, was a bit fragile. She had been the two's favorite aunt. Loretta and Pete never had any children of their own, so they had doted on Edmond and Eliza as if they were. Pete taught Edmond how to do woodworking, and care for the lawn, and hide in the game room from the women during family celebrations. Edmond had fond memories of their uncle's game room. Cedar paneling, a card table for Thursday's "friendly" poker night, an overstuffed chair in which Pete worked crossword puzzles for hours, and a second table on which there was always a jigsaw puzzle or paint-by-number in the works. The smell of cedar and pipe tobacco mingled in one unforgettable bouquet. It was the original "man cave." 

As they rode to the church, Eliza thought about the memorable days she'd spent with her aunt and uncle before adulthood crept its way into her life. They were precious times of unconditional love received in the most basic of ways: crusts cut from peanut butter sandwiches, long bedtime stories, cooking lessons that always concluded with extra chocolate intentionally left on spatulas, and ice-cold pink lemonade on the porch. Pete taught Eliza she was his special princess and Loretta taught Eliza to sew. No other little girl was ever loved so much, no other young woman was granted such privilege and pride. Her high school graduation, her wedding, her aunt and uncle were not simply attendees, but radiant stars of a much larger panorama. They glowed with pride and showered her with their approval. Her parents raised her well, but her aunt and uncle loved her well. And when her parents passed, Pete and Loretta became "home."

As their limousine pulled up beside the church, people had already begun to gather. Loretta's eyes widened with wonder and she began to hum and whistle more loudly. To her brain, those sounds were words and she used them just as fluently. Eliza softly patted her aunt's arm and led her from the car. In the church, Eliza on one side and Edmond on the other escorted Loretta to the front pew. Just as Eliza wondered if this was going to be too much for her dear aunt, Loretta spied her beloved at rest in his best suit in front of her. Her gait quickened and she practically dragged Edmond and Eliza to the casket. Her voice was loud and afflicted, and she began to sob, her embellished, flopping hat giving her the privacy that she would have once insisted upon. She was receiving the news of her darling groom's death all over again. 

Eliza looked nervously toward Edmond. He jerked his head toward the pews and he tugged gently at his aunt's arm, turning her back to the front of the church. Eliza, following her brother's lead, gave Loretta a nudge in the direction they sought. 

The pastor approached. "Good morning, Edmond, Eliza. Would you mind getting your aunt into the front pew just over here? We're preparing to start."

Edmond spoke up. "Pastor Tom, if you don't mind, we'd like to sit a bit further back. I know it's unconventional, but my aunt is having a particularly difficult time of all this. With her issues and all..." his voice trailed off.

"No, no need to apologize," said the pastor. "That will be fine." Turning to Loretta, the pastor smiled and asked, "Is there anything I can do for you, Dear?"

Through what was left of her tears, Loretta lifted her face, smiled politely, and cooed. Despite whatever cognitive issues she had, her sense of propriety remained in some form, and the memory of what she had seen moments ago had begun to dissipate already. Pastor Tom returned the smile, nodded to Edmond and Eliza, and turned to take his place by the casket. The niece and nephew led their aunt to a pew a little further away.

When the service began, the minister talked of Pete's "friendly gatherings," refraining from actually calling them poker nights, but admitting to his own attendance from time to time. He spoke of dinners hosted by a "quite talented" cook and spending time with her gregarious husband while he did the dishes for his wife, allowing her to relax a bit after "such a sumptuous feast." 

Edmond and Eliza caught one another searching their aunt's face for some sort of perception. There was none. They exchanged melancholic smiles and faced front again.

The minister spoke also of a wedding that had taken place some forty-six years before, a "union of two wonderful people who loved and served each other well." He said he'd never seen two people more suited for one another, and he said he'd never seen a bride blush so pink and a groom look so proud. "But now," he continued, "we must come together to say 'goodbye' to such a dear friend, uncle, and husband."

Once again, Edmond and Eliza glanced toward their aunt. Loretta was now beginning to doze, her head slowly dropping toward her chest.

Pastor Tom began to speak of the difficulty of saying "goodbye," of how we plan for our futures and hold hopes and dreams within our hearts, only to have them altered by the life we are trying to live. He acknowledged the pain and anguish but recognized the necessity to work through those feelings and see what can be gained from our tribulations. Pastor Tom gently talked of seasons and the passage of time which ages us and brings us closer to the end, but at the same time allows us to heal. The minister attempted to raise the mourners' thoughts to the future and the task of moving on without those we have loved. And he concluded in prayer.

"And with that," said the old minister, "please join us at the cemetery to say our final 'goodbyes' to Pete and commit his body to the earth."

At that moment, Edmond and Eliza who had been enrapt with the message being delivered sensed a stirring in the pew between them. Aunt Loretta, her face still hidden by her wide-brimmed hat, which was boldly covered in ribbons and a single rose, was suddenly jarred awake. Rising slowly from the fourth pew, she raised her chin toward the minister and declared, "I object!" She was once again the regal bride, standing in the place where she and her groom had been forever promised, though now she was defending their life and railing against the death that overtaken half of their bond. Her words had found their mark, her body and her brain were once again working as one. Her beloved was gone and her rage was greater than the disease that had taken her faculties. Loretta was present again.

She dropped back into the pew and sighed.

Photo by Mark Sutherland