Sunday, May 27, 2012
Inspired
by Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
Not too long ago
I attended the home going service of a family friend, a celebration honoring the
life of a man who was well over 90 years of age and had lived fully and
fruitfully. During the portion of the service when people are asked to make
remarks, one of his daughters recalled that her dad once said he was satisfied
with his life and that he had no regrets. Now this was a prominent man who had held
a number of professional positions in which he’d had to make weighty decisions.
Of course, he had seen both joys and sorrows, and no doubt, he had made more
than a few mistakes in his life. Yet at the end of his days, he reported that
he had no regrets. How does that work? How does one live for nine decades and
have no regrets at the end? That’s when the Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 occupied my
thoughts.
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| ~ Magnoliopsida (Photo credit: *Grant*) |
Life is like a
symphony. To everything there is
music and rhythm for every purpose under heaven. Some of that music evokes memories
of love or hate, healing or pain, turmoil or peace. Certain songs are
associated with birth, others with death. Some songs make us weep while others
make us laugh, dance, or just sit still and contemplate the deep things of
life. At those times when we have the luxury of sitting back and letting the
rhythms embrace us, what we might hear is a beautiful symphony orchestrated by
God, the Masterful Maker of the Music. If we listen carefully, we can hear the
episodes of our life echo with richness and complexity – so intricate and full
that the whole is truly greater than the sum of its various, often disparate, parts.
Yes, to everything
there is music and rhythm for every purpose under heaven. And when our symphony
comes to an end, in spite of, or maybe even because of, all that has happened
in our lives I believe that the last notes will be resolved, and we will be
able to say with confidence “I have no regrets.” Praise God! All has been reconciled.
I have no regrets.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Image via Wikipedia
Focus Scripture: 1 Corinthians 13:1-13)
All we need is love; at least that’s what the songwriters, poets, movie producers, and others would have us to believe. And you know what? I tend to agree with them to a certain extent. The Apostle Paul, in his first letter to the Church in Corinth also believed in the importance of love. This love about which Paul speaks can be seen in our benevolent attitudes and actions towards our fellow human beings. Not only that, the kind of love Paul preaches about grows out of sincere and fervent devotion to God. When people possess this kind of love their individual gifts take a back seat. What shines through is not the forcefulness of prophesies or the speaking in tongues or having great knowledge and wisdom. What shines through are the compassion expressed and the mercy rendered toward another person who was created in the image of God.
What is there about love that makes it so powerful to the point of being a more excellent way of life? The biblical evidence is compelling, and it is reinforced by recent scholarly studies. As we engage in the process of loving others, we continue to grow and benefit psychologically from the acts of charity we extend. This feeling has been referred to as a “helper’s high” or the “Mother Teresa effect.” In other words, charitable acts can lead to positive feelings. Some scholars have noted that an actual change in brain chemistry occurs within people after they have done something charitable. Specifically, the act of giving has been shown to produce endorphins and reduce stress hormones in a similar way that exercise does. As a fringe benefit, some studies have shown that people who are happier and less stressed tend to be more productive and more apt to succeed. Could this be a by-product of the more excellent way that Paul describes?
In addition to that, recent scholars have noted that there is healing power associated with doing good. They contend that when we care for others, we are actually caring for ourselves. These authors report that personal helping on a regular basis gives people an immediate physical sensation, including warmth, increased energy, and a sense of euphoria. Not only that when we give of ourselves, especially if we start young, other things in our lives are affected. Mortality is delayed. Depression is reduced. Well-being is increased. Additional research studies have shown that helping others can result in health benefits to those with chronic illness, including HIV, multiple sclerosis, and heart problems. These studies and others have demonstrated that when people help others on a regular basis, even in small ways, they are likely to feel happier. Is this a more excellent way?
My answer is a resounding yes! While we’re down here waiting for eternal prophesies to be fulfilled, we can use love as a unifying vision for life in God’s kingdom here on earth. Love is that unifying vision and it can be expressed through acts of charity, philanthropy, and generosity extended to persons in need of a helping hand. Such love is one of the noblest expressions of the human spirit, and it can promote goodness and generosity even in the midst of the most intolerable situations. Furthermore, as Paul demonstrated in Corinth, engaging in acts of love can help to build communities that sustain well-being and peace for all its members, no matter what their gifts. The scripture teaches us that even though our gifts may eventually diminish, love will last for ever – And now abide faith, hope, and love; but the greatest of these is love. And it is a more excellent way.
Friday, July 23, 2010
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| English: The Conlang Flag is a symbol of constructed language ("conlang") enthusiasts. It represents the Tower of Babel against a rising sun (translating Genesis 11:1-9 has been a tradition for conlangers). (Photo credit: Wikipedia) |
After further study and reflection on Babel, I think that God may have looked down in amusement as the people redoubled their efforts to reach the heavens where they would have immediate and unrestricted access to God, which may or may not have been part of God’s eternal plan. I imagine that God’s intent for the people at Babel was not that they finish the project in record time and under budget. Instead, I think God wanted the people to concentrate their thoughts and efforts to engage in the quest itself – the search to work in relationship with each other to discover Sovereign God and God’s intent for the world. So God laid on their hearts an unquenchable thirst and an indefatigable industriousness. Furthermore, God interjected diversity into the process, thereby forcing the people to grapple together with the hard issues. And the more they grappled, the more God was glorified.
The instrument of glorification was not the common language or collective wisdom the people had amassed, but the insights they gained into the nature of God and therefore the nature of people who are made in God’s image.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Image via Wikipedia
When I gaze upon the beauty of God’s work, sometimes all I can say is “How majestic is your name in all the earth.” Today’s scripture speaks of the wonder of God’s creation. It starts out by saying: “O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!” (See Psalm 8.) There was a time in my life before I retired from the field of education that I used to commute long distances on an interstate highway to get to work. I would leave early in the morning, off to my destination. Much of the time I drove along in silence, marveling at the beauty and intricacy of what God had spoken into existence at the beginning of time. It was during these commutes that I came to understand that God’s creation truly is majestic.
The second part of today’s scripture focuses on that sense of insignificance that I felt as I drove along. For example, verses 3 and 4 say: “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?” What is humankind, indeed, in the face of God’s magnificence? Yes, God has made us a little lower than the angels. God has crowned us with glory and honor. God has given us dominion over all that God has made. But in the broader scheme of things, what is humankind that God is even mindful of us? How do our meager accomplishments measure up against what God has done? The answer is that they don’t.
One of the trips I made on a regular basis took me from east to west as I drove from Chicago to DeKalb on Interstate 88, which is now the Ronald Reagan Expressway. I had to leave my house before dawn to get to a meeting or a class on time. It’s interesting to note that on my way, the landscape changed many times. The trip was about 90 miles, and I used to divide it up into legs to make it more manageable. On the first leg of the trip, the landscape changed from vacant lots and concrete slabs to suburban residential communities. On the second leg of the trip, the concrete and congestion began to yield to shopping malls and office plazas. But it was on the third leg of the trip that something special always happened. Instead of office buildings, farmland stretched as far as the eye could see. And there was space all around to breathe and think and feel and to savor the beauty of what God had made.
I particularly remember the aromas of early spring. There were many open fields emitting the smells of freshly mowed grass or freshly cut crops. There were the scents of lilacs and clover and that unmistakable scent of the ground thawing in the early spring or the smell of rain in the air and the promise of new life that it all brought to mind. The colors also were vibrant. Purples and yellows and reds and greens and rich browns set against the backdrop of the blue, blue sky, sometimes dotted with clouds, sometimes not.
And there were horses. Every time I passed milepost 103, I looked to my left and saw four or five horses just standing in the field. They always faced south for some reason. This sounds silly, but every time I passed them I would wave and say “Hi, horses.” They never answered back, of course. But their very presence represented stability and wonder.
I remember one trip in particular. The highway stretched out in a flat plain ahead of me as I drove on this narrow stretch of road. And above it all was the endless sky spanning forever in all directions, unmarred by smokestacks or high-rise buildings. On that day as I looked through the windshield, I saw the sky, so clear and pure and endless, as it hung in the eternal space all around me. I was so struck by the beauty and the majesty of it all that I gasped out loud and thanked God for the Divine portrait that I beheld. But there was still more. I glanced in my rear-view mirror. And there was the sun peeking over the horizon at the dawn to pay honor to the new day. The word awesome does not do justice to the beauty of that moment. I felt so blessed, but at the same time I felt absolutely insignificant in the broader scheme of things. And all I could say was Lord, Our Lord, how excellent is your name in all the earth! What a blessing!
During those long trips, I reached several conclusions. God is greater than our insecurities. God is greater than our pain. God is greater than our sorrow. God is greater than our disappointments. God is the author of time, the creator of our beginnings, and keeper of our endings. God is greater than the great! God is stronger than the strong! God is our all in all! And those things became very clear to me on the days that I drove from east to west in those mornings just before dawn. How honored I felt. How humbled I felt in God’s magnificent presence. And I had a strong sense of receiving a blessing that was tailor made just for me. The only thing I can say in response is “Lord, O Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!” Amen.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Image via WikipediaLike everyone else, I want my decisions to be quality ones, solutions that are informed by as much information as possible, taking into account both the past and the present, along with internal as well as external cues. Like you, I want to be able to look at all the options – testing everything and holding onto that which is good. I want there to be method to my inquiry. And I want my conclusions to be based on a broad frame of reference so I don’t fall prey to error due to “truncated range.” To truncate means to cut off, to restrict something so that it goes only so far and no further. Truncation as a statistical concept is often applied to interpretation of correlations. When the range of view is too narrow it is easy for one to reach inaccurate conclusions about the relationship between two things.
Typically when a statistician wants to show the strength and direction of a relationship, she will use data points to indicate their coordinates on a scatter plot. If a positive correlation exists between two variables the plot will show a distribution pattern with an upward slope, meaning that as one variable increases in value, so does the other. (The higher one’s grade point average, the higher is one’s score on the ACT or SAT exam, for example.) If the correlation is negative, the opposite is true; as one variable increases in value, the value of the other variable decreases, thus resulting in a downward slope. (The greater one’s athleticism, the lower is one’s golf score, for example.) If there is no relationship between the two variables, the pattern is represented by a flat line, a line of best fit that is parallel to the X axis. In order to see the upward, downward, or flat trend accurately, the statistician has to plot a sufficient number of cases, and she has to look at their full range of distribution on the scatter plot. Otherwise, she is restricting or truncating the view.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
In remembrance of James T. Reed, Jr. (1928-2010)
What can I say about James T. Reed, Jr., my father-in-law? He was an enigma, a complex man, infuriating yet endearing all at the same time. On the outside he wore this harsh exterior. But if you looked below the surface, you could see a sensitive, vulnerable soul who hoped with all his heart that when he reached out to others they would reach back to him. During his lifetime, he worked his way from the bottom up in an effort to show the world that he was good enough. He was a man of determination who resolved early in life to walk tall and to live free and to rise above the circumstances of his birth. He spent a great deal of time and energy demonstrating to the world that he could stride alongside any man or woman regardless of their race or social status or politics. In many ways he was indomitable.
Then Alzheimer’s disease attacked my father-in-law in his later years. My husband, daughter, granddaughter, and I used to go to visit Daddy in the nursing home every week. At first, Daddy was able to communicate, maintaining the ability to engage in conversation and to share his spirit, his presence, his wants, and his needs. As the disease progressed he could express his attendance to our presence only by non-verbal means such as eye contact and purposive body language.
Sometimes upon arriving for our visit, we would ask him how he was. “Cold and hungry,” he would reply. So we retrieved an extra blanket from the linen rack and went down to the snack bar to get him something to eat. That satisfied his needs for a time.
On a few occasions he simply didn’t want to be bothered with us or anyone else. When we arrived on those days my husband would say “Hi, Daddy.” My father-in-law would respond “Hi, Son.” Then he would lower his head and pretend to be sleep. Daddy kept his eyes closed through the entire visit. But we saw through the ruse and insisted on being present with him in spite of his lack of hospitality. So we’d sit by his bedside for 30 minutes or so talking among ourselves about people he knew and events that had occurred since our last visit. Even though Daddy could not participate in the conversation – and even though he was supposed to be sleep – he gave little signals to show that he was listening. When he truly was ready for us to leave, Daddy would start fidgeting in his chair and scowling. My husband would then nod his head to signal that is was time to go. “We have to go now. Bye, Daddy. We love you,” my husband would say. Daddy would open his eyes, look up, and respond, “Goodbye, Son,” after which he would lower his head once again and continue with his pretense of sleep.
There were other visits, more disturbing times, when my father-in-law had retreated to a place of impenetrable reverie. Our words could not reach him there. Those were the visits that left us feeling helpless and unsettled. I used to wonder where Daddy went during those episodes of repose when he seemed to be alone within himself. I found it painful to watch this once bombastic, obstreperous, intimidating, vibrant, life-loving man decline to a person who couldn’t even remember what he had for breakfast. None of it made sense to me, and I hate confusion. I had a need for the pieces to fit together; I had a need to figure it out. So I began to reflect theologically on the issue.
My reflections focused on Psalm 139. In this scripture, the psalmist speaks of God: “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast” (vv 7-10, NIV).
I believe that during those times when my father-in-law drifted to that inner place, God was with him. This scripture reassured me that even as we sat in Daddy’s room on those silent days, God was embracing my father-in-law with a steadfast and everlasting love. I believe that in the throes of Alzheimer’s disease my father-in-law was resting in a state of peacefulness with God, the Maker of Light: “even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you (v 12).”
After reflecting on Psalm 139, I am convinced that the darkness of Alzheimer’s disease is not greater than our Creator who has searched us and known us and is acquainted with all our ways. I believe that during those dark times, God was beaming his eternal light into the spirit of my father-in-law. And I believe with all my heart that my father-in-law’s spirit is now at rest and peace with God, the Lord of Light.
What can I say about James T. Reed, Jr., my father-in-law? He was an enigma, a complex man, infuriating yet endearing all at the same time. On the outside he wore this harsh exterior. But if you looked below the surface, you could see a sensitive, vulnerable soul who hoped with all his heart that when he reached out to others they would reach back to him. During his lifetime, he worked his way from the bottom up in an effort to show the world that he was good enough. He was a man of determination who resolved early in life to walk tall and to live free and to rise above the circumstances of his birth. He spent a great deal of time and energy demonstrating to the world that he could stride alongside any man or woman regardless of their race or social status or politics. In many ways he was indomitable.
Then Alzheimer’s disease attacked my father-in-law in his later years. My husband, daughter, granddaughter, and I used to go to visit Daddy in the nursing home every week. At first, Daddy was able to communicate, maintaining the ability to engage in conversation and to share his spirit, his presence, his wants, and his needs. As the disease progressed he could express his attendance to our presence only by non-verbal means such as eye contact and purposive body language.
Sometimes upon arriving for our visit, we would ask him how he was. “Cold and hungry,” he would reply. So we retrieved an extra blanket from the linen rack and went down to the snack bar to get him something to eat. That satisfied his needs for a time.
On a few occasions he simply didn’t want to be bothered with us or anyone else. When we arrived on those days my husband would say “Hi, Daddy.” My father-in-law would respond “Hi, Son.” Then he would lower his head and pretend to be sleep. Daddy kept his eyes closed through the entire visit. But we saw through the ruse and insisted on being present with him in spite of his lack of hospitality. So we’d sit by his bedside for 30 minutes or so talking among ourselves about people he knew and events that had occurred since our last visit. Even though Daddy could not participate in the conversation – and even though he was supposed to be sleep – he gave little signals to show that he was listening. When he truly was ready for us to leave, Daddy would start fidgeting in his chair and scowling. My husband would then nod his head to signal that is was time to go. “We have to go now. Bye, Daddy. We love you,” my husband would say. Daddy would open his eyes, look up, and respond, “Goodbye, Son,” after which he would lower his head once again and continue with his pretense of sleep.
There were other visits, more disturbing times, when my father-in-law had retreated to a place of impenetrable reverie. Our words could not reach him there. Those were the visits that left us feeling helpless and unsettled. I used to wonder where Daddy went during those episodes of repose when he seemed to be alone within himself. I found it painful to watch this once bombastic, obstreperous, intimidating, vibrant, life-loving man decline to a person who couldn’t even remember what he had for breakfast. None of it made sense to me, and I hate confusion. I had a need for the pieces to fit together; I had a need to figure it out. So I began to reflect theologically on the issue.
My reflections focused on Psalm 139. In this scripture, the psalmist speaks of God: “Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast” (vv 7-10, NIV).
I believe that during those times when my father-in-law drifted to that inner place, God was with him. This scripture reassured me that even as we sat in Daddy’s room on those silent days, God was embracing my father-in-law with a steadfast and everlasting love. I believe that in the throes of Alzheimer’s disease my father-in-law was resting in a state of peacefulness with God, the Maker of Light: “even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you (v 12).”
After reflecting on Psalm 139, I am convinced that the darkness of Alzheimer’s disease is not greater than our Creator who has searched us and known us and is acquainted with all our ways. I believe that during those dark times, God was beaming his eternal light into the spirit of my father-in-law. And I believe with all my heart that my father-in-law’s spirit is now at rest and peace with God, the Lord of Light.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Not too long ago, I watched a rerun of “The Day after Tomorrow,” a movie in which a natural disaster froze the northern hemisphere and ushered in a new ice age. Money lost its worth. Books provided fuel rather than knowledge. Clothing protected rather than adorned. Cars and yachts were turned into relics. And humankind’s philosophical wisdom became obsolete. Those things that prevailed during the disaster were timeless and intangible: compassion, loyalty, patience, humility, and self-control, among others. That some of the people in the movie possessed these characteristics became evident in the actions they took to support each other in the face of almost certain doom.
When such virtuous characteristics are internalized as part of one’s spiritual make up, it becomes evident in the person’s attitudes and behaviors. Unfortunately, in this day and age, personal virtue too often has taken a back seat to ambiguity, conformity, and fear. In such worrisome times, many people are drifting from one questionable trend to the next, searching for hope, craving stability, and desperately seeking solid and sure points of reference. I submit to you that one place to look for answers when “the day after tomorrow” comes is the Word of God.
Inspired by Galatians 5:22-23
When such virtuous characteristics are internalized as part of one’s spiritual make up, it becomes evident in the person’s attitudes and behaviors. Unfortunately, in this day and age, personal virtue too often has taken a back seat to ambiguity, conformity, and fear. In such worrisome times, many people are drifting from one questionable trend to the next, searching for hope, craving stability, and desperately seeking solid and sure points of reference. I submit to you that one place to look for answers when “the day after tomorrow” comes is the Word of God.
Inspired by Galatians 5:22-23
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