Painful

Nobody likes pain.  Or, does anyone like pain?  I know those of you that work out strenuously enjoy the muscle pain and deep tissue burning sensation that shouts out, “I am on my way to that chiseled physique”.  Me, I just try to avoid pain.  A month ago I heard a loud “Pop” in my knee and went to the doctor. Initial examinations indicated that nothing was wrong but after 3 weeks of that thing I don’t like – pain, I went back to the doctor, got an MRI and found that my medial meniscus had a tear.  Last Thursday I had an operation to repair my meniscus.  The operation started when my “angel” showed up.  I don’t remember his name. He was very large.  He said something to the effect that he was my “pain angel”.  He was my anesthesiologist.  He began to describe all that good things he was going to give me, I didn’t listen,  he had me at “you won’t feel anything!”

I had the operation and hopefully I will soon have full use of my pain free knee.  One thing I didn’t really think through though was following “all” the instructions.  When I left the hospital on Thursday morning I felt great. No pain. I couldn’t feel my knee at all.  Thursday afternoon I rested and slept.  Thursday evening I had a meeting at church that I really wanted to be at.  So……..around 5pm I stood up. No pain!  My knee was still numb.  I thought ……….I could go the meeting, it won’t last that long, then I can come back and ice and rest my knee.  I neglected to take into account that earlier in the day  I had been injected with a lot of drugs, so the self I was negotiating with was not very reliable.  I went to the meeting.

Sitting in my office now a week later, I am not sure that I acted prudently. Why?  That thing I don’t like, pain – is back.  I am pretty sure if I had followed the doctor’s orders on Thursday and Friday, I wouldn’t be having the pain, I am having now.

Our spiritual lives often take this illogical path.  We are trying very hard in life to avoid pain. We have good instruction and guidance but often ignore it when important decisions need to be made.  We wing it, make decisions on the fly.  We just do what seems best at the time.  I am hoping that the next time pain gets close, my knee will twitch, I will reach down and rub it and remember the mistake I made.  Hopefully, then I will think, pray, and seek the wisest course of action. Proverbs 14:12 “there is a way that appears to be right, but in the end leads to ruin”

Moving Easter Stones

Many of us are familiar with rolling stones, rocks, and/or boulders around. You can’t dig in the dirt around Dahlonega without encountering them. Every landscape design either involves incorporating them or removing them. Do your post-hole diggers look like mine?  The thin blades that enter the ground are bent from trying to bore through rocks?  I have been to many of your houses. You and I both use these wonderful, multi-sized rocks as landscaping borders for flower beds, ponds or trails.

 

Unfortunately some of us live towards the top of a hill. We could talk for days about the perils of trying to roll, cart, drag, push or coerce these rocks to the places we want them.  My back aches at the memory.  My hands have the scars and callouses to attest to the jagged edges. My knees…………well you have seen me hobbling around the last few weeks.   Moving stones should be left to Takeuchi,  John Deere, Kubota, or  Massey-Ferguson.  Each rock on my property comes with a story of how it was turned from obstacle to art.

I am not sure of the geological circumstances that embedded so many rocks in our precious soil, but here they are.  Sometimes we find them out of place and need/want them moved to a more advantageous location.

The stone in front of Jesus’ tomb has become a metaphor for all that might entomb us.  The seeming ease at which the giant stone was rolled from Jesus’ tomb opens us up to the possibility for hope.  Whatever stone/rock/boulder that binds us can, through the grace of God, be moved.  The stones/rocks/boulders that frame the paths of our lives are reminders of the power of God to heal and restore.  Here’s to moving stones, Here’s to Easter Hope!

Yes Ma'am

       It was supposed to be an exciting time of discovery, new friends, new challenges.  It turned out to be a disaster.
       During the summer after 4th grade my family moved from Memphis TN. to Chicago Ill. Having grown up in the south I was excited about snow in the winter, baseball games at Wrigley Field, learning to play Hockey, and being on a new family adventure.  The end of the summer marked the beginning of school. I had met a few friends in the neighborhood, but was looking forward to meeting my classmates, teachers and trying to navigate 5th grade.
       Did I mention that I had grown up in the south?  It didn't dawn on me to check with my friends about dress codes.  I proudly showed up the first day of class in my jeans with rolled up cuffs, dress shoes and white socks!  I had no idea why the kids lining the hall were laughing that morning.  I was aware when I got to class that other kids seem to know something that I didn't. But it was later that day that finally one compassionate soul told me that white socks and dress shoes was what everyone was laughing at.
        If the white socks weren't bad enough, I found that my vocabulary was a source of entertainment as well.   At the beginning of the class the teacher asked me a question to which I proudly responded "Yes Ma'am". Did I mention I had grown up in the south?  The roar of laughter was deafening. I thought for a moment that a couple of kids might have injured themselves falling out of their desks on to the floor. "Yes Maaa'aaaam"  I was mocked.  "Yes Ma'am's" followed by more laughter repeated all over the room.
        All summer I had looked forward to the first day of school. I had imagined all kinds of scenarios as to how the day would play out. Being embarassed, humiliated, made fun of and outcasted was never the future I had dreamed about.  
         My 5th grade school year actually turned out ok.  I made some friends. I never wore white socks with dress shoes again and my "Yes "Ma'am" became less comical as the weeks went by.


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Humble Juggling

Juggling is humbling. I am betting that many people learn to juggle for every other reason in the world than to learn humility. But juggling is humbling.

There are all kinds of reasons to learn to juggle: to impress your friends, to learn a new skill, to learn a marketable trade, to join the circus, aeorbic excercise, challenge yourself, or just to see if you can.  I am betting that no one learns to juggle in order to learn humility. 

 

I learned to juggle years ago, but it wasn't until my family and I attended the Renaissance Festival in Atlanta that I really got excited.  The jugglers told stories using the balls or clubs as props in the story.   I went home and tried to figure out how to tell the story of Adam and Eve, The Prodigal Son, and the Trinity through the medium of Juggling.  I wasn't thinking about humility. I was looking to be the star, the person up front as the crowd oooohed and aaahhhhed.  Sadly my juggling skills have never progressed to that level.

 

I have however spent years leading Chapel for our preschool children. ( chapel consists of two or three songs, a prayer led by Mrs. Lisa, and then my 2-3 minute devotion/object lesson) Once or twice a year I will gather my juggling gear and stumble into Chapel. The children cheer with great anticipation. The first few times I thought their cheers were in appreciation for my limitless skills in tossing multiple objects into the air and the finese' with which I executed my craft. But no, this is where humility was learned. The children weakly clapped as I juggled 3 then 4 balls. They yawned as I juggled clubs and mismatched objects. They seemed distracted when I juggled objects behind my back and under my leg.  But let one of those objects hit the floor and great guffaws of laughter pierced the sanctuary.  They cheered ever louder when an object bounced off my my head or slipped through my hand. 

 

I am finding it is like that with God too. It is not my ability that matters, but my availability.

 

 

Finding Peace

In the attached Sesame Street youtube clip, Herry and Grover are trying to explain the difference between here and there to.  The little pink character is having trouble understanding the words.  It was “here” and he wanted to go “there”, but when he got to the place he wanted to go it wasn’t “there” anymore, it was now “here” and the original “here” was now “there”.  When you think about it in those terms it is a little confusing.

 

Dr. Seuss told of a similar dilemma with the “Star Bellied Sneetches” .  They were very proud of the stars on their bellies, because many Sneetches didn’t have stars on their bellies, and so the stars made the “Star Bellied Sneetches”  very special and envied.    A young entrepreneur came to town one day with a special machine and for only a small amount of money the plain bellied Sneetches could get a star tattooed on their bellies making them part of the “In” crowd.  While this was popular with the plain bellied Sneetches the star bellied Sneetches were angry.  So………………they paid the same enterprising fellow a handsome fee to remove their stars so that they could be different again. 

We always seem to want what we don’t have.  Dave Ramsey has summed up much of the world with this quote: “We buy things we don’t even need with money we don’t even have to impress people we don’t even know”

In Philippians Paul tells the story of being in Jail.  He shares that he is OK either way. If he lives it is good, if he dies it is good.  He can see the benefits of both. He is not dependent on something external to create his peace and joy, he has already found it in his relationship with Christ.  Many of us look there for what is already here.

Strength To Love

 

Strength to Love is the title of a book of sermons by Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I have been reading it this week in my reflection and prayer time.  I have also been watching a number of youtube videos about Dr. King. One in particular I have included. It is worth watching. It shares his story of the weight and pressure that he was under and the strength he found to press on.

One of the sermons in "Strength to Love" is called Love in Action.  Dr. King nails the problem that we humans face:

"One of the great tragedies of life is that men seldom bridge the gulf between practice and profession, between doing and saying. A persistent schizophrenia leaves so many of us tragically divided against our- selves. On the one hand, we proudly profess certain sublime and noble principles, but on the other hand, we sadly practise the very antithesis of those principles. How often are our lives characterized by a high blood pressure of creeds and an anemia of deeds! We talk eloquently about our commitment to the principles of Christianity, and yet our lives are saturated with the practices of paganism. We proclaim our devotion to democracy, but we sadly practice the opposite of the democratic creed. We talk passionately about peace, and at the same time we assiduously prepare for war. We make our fervent pleas for the high road of justice, and then we tread unflinchingly the low road of injustice. This strange dichotomy, this agonizing gulf between the ought and the is, represents the tragic theme of man’s earthly pilgrimage."

In the sermon, written while he is in prison, Dr. King resists the temptation to lash out and attack, but very graciously claims that the struggles facing the world is not a result of its badness, but its blindness.  It is not that people are bad, they are just blind to truth.  "...they were not wicked men. On the contrary, they were decent and dedicated men. But they were victims of spiritual and intellectual blindness.  They knew not what they did."

On the cross, Jesus also doesn't accuse humanity of being bad, just blind (Luke 23:34) and asks God to forgive us.  Is that how you react when someone wrongs you?  Do you spend any amount of time trying to understand your adversary?  Most of us just go into strike mode. Most of us just scream and holler at the injustices we face.

Grace is amazing when we see it on display.  I am thankful that our country and her leaders saw fit to set aside a day to honor Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.  It is worth our time to consider what he taught and how he lived.

 

the scream

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The painting is called The Scream.  It was painted by Edvard Munch, in his diary entry headed, 22 January 1892, he described his inspiration for the image:

“One evening I was walking along a path, the city was on one side and the fjord below. I felt tired and ill. I stopped and looked out over the fjord—the sun was setting, and the clouds turning blood red. I sensed a scream passing through nature; it seemed to me that I heard the scream. I painted this picture, painted the clouds as actual blood. The color shrieked. This became The Scream.”

The phrase above that haunts me is “I sensed a scream passing through nature.”  Do you sense the same thing?  Did you sense a scream when you heard about the girl in India, the plight of the Syrian people, the school in Newtown Conn., the ambush of the N.Y. firefighters?  There is a scream passing through nature in 2013 just as it was in 1892.

Notice the shadowy figure leaning over the rail in the background of the painting? He/she conveys a sense of despair and hopelessness.  Many times we wonder how we can go on.  We find ourselves with head in hand wondering how we got to this point and what on earth we can do about it.

1 Kings 19 tells the story of Elijah. He is hearing the screams of his day. Elijah is hiding in a cave. He doesn’t know if he can go on. He asks God to end his life. God tells him to stand at the entrance to the cave where he witnesses a deafening wind, an earthquake, a great fire, and finally a gentle whisper.  God says I wasn’t in the wind, earthquake or fire.  God says I was in the whisper. The great scream of nature is overcome by a whisper from God.  I like that. 

God is whispering to you and me just as he did to Elijah. God is calling our name. God is providing hope. God is helping us find the way forward.  The trick is finding, no, making the time to listen.  Finding the places in our lives where we can hear the whisper.

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