A Promise

On this Fall morning, my mind is racing as I think of falling leaves, gone-too-soon loved ones, and heart piercing matters. The ups and downs of my emotional landscape render flowing tears more readily accessible.

"Will life ever be the same again?"

I wonder and ponder.

Life as I knew it has become death.
The colored leaves have already fallen.
Loved ones have already exited my known universe.
Heart-wrenching topics have already torpedoed my quiet boat.

And it is hard.
And it is raw.

Missing and weeping and hurting have become familiar gerunds in the grammar of my heart.

Yet (I love this 3-letter word!) . . .

. . . life is here.
. . . life is there.
. . . life is everywhere.

And my heart is uber thankful for life because of an uncommon promise that was once prophesied then became reality:

“The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”).

Isaiah foretold it (Is 7:14).
Matthew quoted it (Mt 1:23).

It was given as a sign.

700 years later, the promise or the foretold sign no longer remained a fuzzy thought for truth-seekers but became a proven fact in a manger, a stable in Bethlehem. History recorded in its annals the sensational news of young teenage Mary who had not been with any man yet gave birth to a baby boy named Jesus.

The angel announced it to nearby shepherds tending their flocks that night, saying:

"Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." (Luke 2:11-12, NIV)

The fulfillment of the above prophecy in the persons of Mary and Jesus at the beginning of this common era unearths gratitude within my breast and bolsters my faith in three ways:

1. I am grateful for conception. The idea that God delights in authoring life in unlikely or even infertile environments heartens me. In the missing and the weeping and the hurting of this dark season, I am invited to see the light of the Creator knitting and impregnating the womb of my quasi disconsolate soul. I am invited to discover and embrace that life is not defined by my losses and trials; rather, life is defined by the Father who conceives and incubates eternal gains and triumphs reserved for anyone who believes in Him. Indeed, God is life. He is here, there, and everywhere.

2. I am grateful for the gift of birth. Labor pains, the crowning, the emerging body, the baby's first cry, everything about childbirth is momentous. I am reminded this morning that God intends for this dreary and woeful season to eventually deliver a "promised son" on my behalf. And this son manifests himself in the restoration The Lord has in store for me. He has promised me day instead of night, laughter instead of tears, singing instead of wailing, dancing instead of mourning. What joy shall fill my heart with such a birth! Indeed, God is my restorer here, there, and everywhere.

3. I am grateful for Immanuel. Not only did Mary conceive and give birth to a son, she was granted the honor of naming her child Immanuel -- God with us. For me, I am truly encouraged this morning to think that The Lord of glory is with me. With. Me. It is mind-blowing. In my loss, I am not alone. In my missing Papi, the Son of God feels abandoned on the Cross. In my tears, Immanuel weeps with me. In my hurting, Jesus is also acquainted with grief. In life or death, health or sickness, plenty or want, acceptance or rejection, Immanuel is ever with me. I. Am. Not. Alone. Not ever alone. He is the Friend who sticks closer than a brother. Indeed, Christ is with me here, there, and everywhere.

Thank You, Lord!
How can I ever thank You enough?

The Success of Trials

What is your picture of success in life? 

Is it wealth, health, and girth? 
Is it the American dream -- the pursuit of happiness? 
Is it to achieve something noteworthy you wish to accomplish? 
Is it to have a life that is picture perfect and the envy of all your friends and neighbors? 

Please, do me a favor and fill in the blank: ____________________________.

Whether you’ve discussed it with someone or not, your picture of personal success in life is the very motor that drives you and guides your every decision. Your picture of success informs your daily habits, your trips to the mall and McDonald’s, your fitness goals or your puzzlement at the very meaning of the word fitness, your work ethic or lack thereof, your spending tendencies or your stinginess, your secret sins or the display of your good deeds. The way you live broadcasts your concept of success to the world.

This morning, would you and I pause and consider this: What is God’s picture of success in this life? Since God’s glorious Son came to earth and lived as a man, is there some insight coming from His life that tells us of His picture of success?

John 19:30 records a quote from the lips of Jesus that speaks volumes to me. 

Picture Jesus on the cross: 

blood-streaked face 

mutilated flesh

puffy eyelids

parched lips

From those very lips, a satisfied smile further creased his face as He said, “It is finished!”

Success! 

Wait a minute. 

Success? 

Where is the commendation, the human recognition, the adulation that would surely accompany the success of any man? Instead of commendation, He was given condemnation. Instead of human recognition, He was given rejection. Instead of adulation, He was served with accusation. Yet, in plain words that have been recorded for everyone to know, He said, “It is finished!”

Success! Indeed, He was and is and always will be successful because of this secret: He said in Luke 23:46, “Father, into Your hands I commit my spirit.” Have you and I committed our spirit into the hands of the Father? 

On our currency is still inscribed the motto “In God We Trust.” But, would banks, credit card companies, and merchants say of us that we trust in God based on our money management?

What about the devil himself? Should he be allowed to strike us, like he was with Job, could he say that we are a people committed to trusting in God despite the trials and afflictions that are so very present in our lives?

As I think of trials, images of fire and water flood my brain:

Trusting God through Fire        

A cigarette is lit. 

A few puffs of smoke appear and then fade into thin air. 

The cigarette is dumped on the ground; the driver thoughtlessly pulls away. 

Eight hours later, an uncontrollable wildfire causes millions of dollars of damage -- destroyed properties, depleted resources – and more tragically, thousands of lost lives.

Trusting God in Deep Water   

A few raindrops fall on the dusty windshield. 

The drops multiply, intensify, and turn into a flood. 

The car is engulfed by the quickening pace of the water. 

An hour later, an unconscious man is revived just in time to see the bodies of his wife and their four children being taken away to the morgue.

The Success of Trials

Fire and water are dangerous. 

They are dreary, destructive. 

They kill.

Yet, they are divine gifts. They allow us to encounter God in the midst of danger, destruction, and disaster . . . if our eyes are open and our hearts made ready.

Fire and water take many forms in life -- an HIV+ diagnosis, an Ebola outbreak in Dallas, a missed promotion, a discontinued position, an earthquake in Haiti, a tornado in Oklahoma, a drawn-out lawsuit, exorbitant bills. They could be the heart-wrenching news of cancer or the horrific news of a suicide. 

Today is the two-year anniversary of an event which reminds me that fiery trials and fearsome floods know my address and come knocking often: I buried my dad.

A little over two years ago, at the very end of a most difficult week, a text from my sister jolted me – my dad suffered a heart attack and an aneurysm, both of which led to his completely unexpected death later that day. Throughout the drive from Shawnee to Fort Worth, I kept praying that God would wake me up from the horrible nightmare I was having. I simply had a hard time believing that the man who, for 37 years, tirelessly prayed for me, encouraged me, hugged me, kissed my forehead, counseled me . . . would actually die. I was on I-35, just 30 minutes from the hospital, when my brother called to say Papi was snatched away from us but he had convinced the doctor to wait for me to arrive so I could see him first before they took his body to the morgue.

I made it to the hospital. 

My eyes saw his inert body. 

I touched his hair and saw the joyful expression on his face. 

He looked as radiant in death as he did in life. No one who spent more than a minute with my earthly father could ever deny that he was a man madly in love with his Heavenly Father, passionately committed to his wife, sincerely devoted to the spiritual raising of his children, and singularly interested in the well-being of his fellow man. Spiritually speaking, he was the richest, most successful man I have ever met.

Following Papi's departure, other colossal losses have kept me company:

My eldest brother -- abducted and assassinated

My high school friend -- killed by a huge tumor

My brother/friend -- succumbed to cardiac arrest

My cousin's husband -- succumbed to cardiac arrest

My book royalties -- snatched away by an embezzling publisher 

My dear sister -- ravaged by invasive ductal carcinoma triple negative 

My OBU colleague -- shockingly taken from us at the beginning of this semester

My childhood friend -- yet again victimized by the wildly infamous breast cancer

I have shed more tears, my heart has ached so much more in the past two years than I ever could have imagined. Each loss is enormous, a huge bereavement. At one point, God used my wife to text me an encouraging verse from David’s second miktam – Psalm 56:8, “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in Your bottle. You have recorded each one in Your book.”

Friends, that verse teaches us that we do have a solid Rock upon Whom we can stand. If our trials and tears are recorded in God’s book, that means success is guaranteed. Indeed, our trials and tears are useful to teach us, rebuke us, correct us, and train us in righteousness so that we may be thoroughly equipped for every good work. It means that at the end of our rope stands a God who is waiting to guide us, work in us, and transform us completely. You and I are invited to approach His throne of grace with confidence and dare to pass through the fire and water under His watchful eye so we may "be transformed by the [daily] renewing of [our] minds." (Romans 12:2)

My trials have caused me to break down before God. They have given me permission to not try to pull it together. Instead, the Holy Spirit has used them to draw me to simply sit or humbly drop on my knees or meekly lie on my bed or unreservedly drench my pillow as Christ's strength is made perfect in my boatloads of weaknesses. 

He comforts me as He collects my tears in His bottle.

He restores my soul.

Ultimate Ice Bucket Challenge

My beloved niece nominated me to join the ranks of million others who have participated in the "Ice Bucket Challenge" -- supporting the quest for a cure to treat ALS patients, a most worthy cause. 

I accept the invitation . . .

to love
to pray
to donate
to empathize
to increase awareness

. . . and whatever else the Father of mercy and comfort leads me to do and endure for His higher purposes.

Sadly (for some, perhaps), no video of my drenched body is accompanying this post.
I apologize.

Allow me still to say I do not consider it beneath me to dump ice and icy water all over me nor do I deem the trend wasteful. Human beings long to matter and this activity has frayed a glimmer of hope through the dense fog of despairing apathy that plagues our species. And since ALS patients are all too often relegated to non-visibility, I am highly grateful that this popular challenge has stirred humans (at least in this corner of my world) to think more highly of others less fortunate than they are. It has also given people the opportunity to relate to ALS patients (even if it is for a few seconds) as they experience what it is like to feel trapped in one's own body/

To think compassionately of others is always a good thing in my book . . . in God's book:

"If [anyone] is hungry, give them food to eat; if they are thirsty, give them water to drink." -- Proverbs 25:21, NIV

My ALS brothers and sisters are in dire need . . .

. . . so are my Iraqi Christian brothers and sisters being injuriously treated by ISIS members.

. . . so are my unborn brothers and sisters being killed daily because of inconveniences and injustices inflicted upon women.

. . . so are my hastily and unjustly profiled African-American brothers who get shot long before their executors realize (if ever) their error.

. . . so are my other brothers and sisters -- neglected children, mocked parents, bullied teens, derided foreigners, gang-raped victims, battered wives, ostracized liberals, misjudged conservatives, betrayed colleagues, stage 4 cancer patients, clinically depressed friends, suicidal individuals, etc. -- who daily long to be known and loved.

. . . so are you who are dealing with difficulties that no one knows about.

. . . so am I whose grief has lingered for quite some time.

This long season of grief has done many productive things for my mind, spirit, and body. Chief among them is the reminder of the brevity of my time on earth and the urgency placed on said time to drink from the Source that can quench all thirst and to "do unto others" as I would like to be treated.

Well, I know I would like a cup of water when thirsty, a slice of bread when hungry, a hug when lonely, a shoulder upon which to lean and cry when grieving. Most of all, I know that given the choice between the whole world and Christ, I'd rather have Jesus because He is my true need.

May I do no less for those in need around me. May my eyes be opened to see and my spirit heartened to meet needs with the resources the Father has granted me. May I speak on behalf of those who cannot speak for themselves, walk twenty extra miles in the shoes of another, render visible those who are all too often unseen and unloved by the masses. May I not be dragged into the currents of complacency in doing nothing for my neighbors in whatever need they face. And above all, may I be used to point them to Christ -- the One who has accepted the ultimate "Ice Bucket Challenge" on the Cross to meet the true need of humanity!

"But the Lord is faithful, and He will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one." (2 Thessalonians 3:3, NIV)

He is faithful.
His grace covers us.
He will lead you and me.

God Cares When We Don't

Logic tells us, "When others treat us like they don't care, we should believe them because they don't." 

Pride tells us, "If they don't care, why should we?"

Confession states, "When we treat God like we don't care about Him or His Word or His Will or His Way, He believes us. We don't."

But, oh, am I grateful the story doesn't end there. 

Grace asserts, "He believes us. He knows we don't care . . . physically. However, He knows deep down we have a need, a spiritual need, an overwhelming void that only He can fill, though we don't deserve it."

And so . . . 

He cares when we appear not to.
He loves when we decide not to.
He listens when we prefer not to.

He chose us when we didn't choose Him.
He offered Himself when it was our death sentence.
He emptied Himself when we had nothing to pay our debt.

O, perfect love!

Might we, in turn, do the same when others treat us like they don't care?
Might we believe them yet choose not to take the road of pride and revenge?
Might we, instead, tread the narrow lane of loving grace and patient forgiveness?

God Is Here

God is here.

God is there.

God is everywhere.

He's in Tokyo.

He's in Toledo.

He's in Toronto.

God is in joy.

He is also in sorrow.

God is in the one you see as friend.

He is also in the person you deem a foe.

Fields of learning abound:

Art

Math

Music

Dance

Sports

Theatre

Science

Painting

Reading

Religion

Business

Literature

The sphere boxes Him not,

encompasses Him not,

disproves Him not,

excludes Him not,

exhausts Him not.

He is here.

He is there.

He's everywhere.

Individuals roam the universe:

Tall people

Short people

Brownish people

Pink-hued people

Strong-willed people

Mild-mannered people

The varieties of leanings,

skills, and expressions

of all humanity

graciously point to a Creator

who delights in stamping

person, animal, and plant

with His awe-inspiring mark.

Can't hear Him?

Listen.

It's raining somewhere.

A lion is roaring somewhere.

A girl is weeping somewhere.

Can't see Him?

Look.

There is a rainbow in the sky.

A beggar's palm is open before you.

Your neglected spouse is waiting for you at home.

Can't taste Him?

Salivate.

The salt of the ocean is in the air.

A barbecue is calling your name.

Delicious mangos are on sale.

Can't smell Him?

Inhale.

A fragrant peony and a red rose are in the yard.

A baby's freshly washed and powdered skin is awaiting.

The neighbor's recently mown lawn is activating your allergies.

Don't miss Him.

Don't limit Him.

Do not look past Him.

God is here, friend.

God is also there, bud.

God is, oh so, everywhere.

Sorrow and Love

Sorrow and love always do meet in every relational transaction. The only consideration worth its grain is a matter of intensity or level -- i.e., how much do we love or how much do we give?

Those who invest much grieve and rejoice even more.

Those who sacrifice little grieve and rejoice even less.

No wonder Christ was overcome with grief and passion in the Garden of Gethsemane. He is the One who invested the absolute most in His relational transactions with us who so often sacrifice very little on behalf of our fellow man.

Love

Sorrow

Could this co-existence of sorrow and love in the Son of Man be part of the reason leading Christ to summarize the Law and the Prophets with a singular  command: To love God and neighbor with wholeness of heart, mind, soul, and strength? Could this call to experience grief and passion play a vital role in our becoming more Christ-like?

Loving God completely inevitably leads one's feet to tread rocky and thorny paths that unearth much suffering on this side of heaven. Likewise, loving neighbor wholeheartedly leads one to experience hurts and wounds the likes of which sting more than do flaming darts. Still, the depth of joy and elation that is available to those who love sacrificially is referred to by David as "eternal pleasures at God's right hand." (Ps 16:11)

Therefore, no shortcuts are granted to us.

True love:

the height of joy is reached,

the depth of grief is plumbed,

North and South are extended

in equal measure.

I had no idea what was awaiting me when I prayed, asking the Lord to fill me with an undying love for Him and His bride. He began teaching me to love His Word, to love prayer, to love His people, to love His plan. With each aspect, I have had to look sorrow square in the face. A love for the Word, prayer, God's people, and God's plan does not materialize without tests and trials and torments and tribulations.

Hence, my life has been peppered with . . .

jabs
jeers
insults
delays

and most recently,

losses.

Within the span of less than two years, five relatives of mine have died, three of whom are my father and two beloved siblings. Each death feels like a stab in my gut. Each loss begs for more time to allow recovery to occur in my affected spirit and body.

Yet life does not stop.

Tick-tock goes the clock . . .
                          . . . and life moves on without deference to bruises, scars, or tears.

Sixteen days ago, my dear sister stopped breathing due to complications related to her vicious triple negative breast cancer. Of course, everything else stopped while arrangements were made for us to pay our last respects to her.

However, now is time for me to go back to work. Twice I have been on campus but haven't been able to make it all the way tony office. The pain of losing my sister is still too fresh, too hard for me to delve into the thick of academic work. The memories of multiple hospital visits spent alongside my ailing sister, countless talks with her oncologist and other health care providers, late night outings to the ER, and end-of-life talks will forever remain etched in my memory -- issues that have pulled on my heart strings and that demanded a great deal from me.

Truth be told, at this point in my life, I am honestly weary. I am worn out from my seasons of suffering, my seasons of affliction, my seasons of colossal losses. This weariness that has invaded my veins is a direct result from my perennial distress which pleads to go on and on, with no end or relief in sight.

I am not alone in this.
Believe me!

As I read through the psalms, I find in David someone who expressed a similar soul weariness from the suffering that plagued his own life. True to form, he declares in Psalm 6:6,

"I am weary with my moaning;

every night I flood my bed with tears;

I drench my couch with my weeping."

(Oh, isn't that verse describing my faucet-like eyes!?)

David further says in Psalm 69:1-3,

"Save me, O God!

For the waters have come up to my neck.

I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold;

I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me.

I am weary with my crying out; my throat is parched.

My eyes grow dim with waiting for my God."

(Oh my!

I readily relate.)

I am weary . . .

with the tears

with the affliction

with the suffering

with the deep waters

with the sweeping flood

with the terrifying quicksand

with the quake and the surging

                  . . . and feel . . .

overwhelmed

overstrectched

overextended

. . . as if the losses are sweeping over me, drowning me.

Yet there is hope.

God was David's rock and refuge.

Likewise, He is my foundation, my foothold.

When I'm dim, He is my light.

When I'm weary, He is my rest.

When I'm poor, He is my wealth.

When I'm down, He is my summit.

When I'm weak, He is my strength.

" . . . He restores my soul."

-- Psalm 23:3

In my weariness and brokenness and woundedness and neediness, may the Lord reveal Himself to me as the place where my soul can find repose and restoration!

I will not love any less.

I will not give any less.

I surrender my sorrow and love to Him.