Gifts

Christmas is a time of year when people give gifts.  I remember as a boy going shopping to buy my parents something for Christmas.

It was hard, because I usually only had five or six dollars to spend for everyone on my list.  Often I ended up getting tiny candles, or pencils with scripture quotes because it was all I could afford.

When Christmas rolled around my parents always acted very pleased with the little trinkets I gave them.  As a dad, I understand.  I don't need any of the things that my children can buy me, but the gifts demonstrate hearts full of love.

In the same way, I believe that God likes us to give Him things, not because He needs anything from us, but because it demonstrates our love for Him.

God doesn't need our stuff, but He wants our love.

Even as we give to others, we are giving to Him.  "Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me."

It has been said that we should give until it hurts, but I believe that we should give till it stops hurting.  Only then will we demonstrate the love that is inside.

The Darkest Day of the Year

The darkest day of the year is coming up.  The shortest day.  The longest night.  Whatever you want to call it, December 21st is the winter solstice and in Paoli, Indiana, that means that we will have just nine hours and twenty-eight minutes of day light.  This isn't nearly enough and I would petition the state legislature for more, if I thought it would accomplish something.  With all of the gray days we've been dealing with it, it seems like a long time since I've seen that ball of fire in the sky we call the sun.

I know that there are many who deal with greater darkness than that which is brought on by the coming of winter.  Her, in this dreary time between Thanksgiving and Christmas, they feel loss.  A face they will not see again, a voice they long to hear this holiday season and will not.

Reading the news and even just the postings of others on Facebook, I see a darkness in the world around that cannot be penetrated by the brightest of flashlights.

It was into just such a time of darkness that Jesus was born, over two thousand years ago.  He came to a people full of want, a country ravaged by war, and oppressed by a harsh Roman government.

"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shone." (Isaiah 9:2).

There are many types of night within this world, but I have found that into each situation Jesus brings His light.  And where He is, darkness cannot remain.

"This Child Will Change Your Life!"

"Your life just won't be the same."

I remember clearly the older lady who told me this, nine years ago, when my wife and I were expecting our first child.  I'm not sure exactly what she meant.

Perhaps she meant that we would have messy diapers and baby food in our futures.  Perhaps she knew that we could no longer sit at a table set for two, or that we would have plenty of evenings where we rubbed the sleep from our eyes to clean up the after effects of a stomach virus or, console a child dealing with bad dreams.

Perhaps she knew that I would become less selfish -- focusing on the needs of this little girl who was coming to live with us, rather than on what made me happy.

I don't know exactly what she meant, but she sure was right.

I can imagine some older lady saying the same thing to Joseph and Mary, some two thousand years ago. 

"This child will change your life!"

Probably the same things were true for baby Jesus.  He was a normal baby.  He did everything a normal baby and child would do.  His parents did the normal things parents do to take care of a growing infant and child.  He grew and they were changed in the process.

Yet, He came to earth to do more than just change His parent's lives.  He came to change the world.

This Christmas, I pray that all of you would meet Him, know Him, and love Him.

This child will change your life.

If you let Him.

Gratitude

The world is full of terrible illnesses.  Ebola, Malaria, Entero viruses, and the list goes on.  There are plenty of infections that have no test and no cure, yet still cause devastation.  Yet, my family and I are healthy.

I realize that this health does not come from vitamins, or healthy eating, or good genetics.  It does not come because we are special, or more valuable than people who are suffering in West Africa.  It is simply that we are blessed.

The world is full of poverty.  There are many who struggle to find food for their children and who make their homes in little, stolen spaces on the edge of dumps or, in wastelands.  Yet, my family and I have more than enough and my children have never known hunger.

I realize that this plenty does not come because of hard work, or intelligence, or amazing skill.  It does not come to me because I am special or work more than the many who struggle to find nourishment.  It is simply that I am blessed.

There are so many other ways in which I am blessed.  I cannot count them all.  It is awfully easy for me to fall into the mind set where I believe that I deserve the very things which are gifts from God, to believe that God has blessed me because I am special.

I have read elsewhere that Christians should not say that they are blessed when they are referring to material blessings.  But God blesses in many ways, some of them material and some intangible, but the most important thing is never to forget that all of these things are undeserved gifts.

When a gift becomes an expectation, gratitude leaves.

God has given me much and for it, I am grateful.  Perhaps the best way to show my gratitude is to share my blessings with others.

Thanksgiving

A week ago, we got a sudden snowfall of three inches of snow.  Vince's school was cancelled completely, although Anna's was on time.

The children were pretty thrilled by the snow.  That evening, both Anna and Vince prayed:  "Thank you, thank you, thank you for the snow!"

Of course, we live in Indiana and three days later temperatures were up to fifty degrees and all of the snow was melting.  Then, both Anna and Vince prayed:  "Thank you, thank you, thank you that the snow is melting!"

As it says in Job, "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."

I am not totally certain why so many people fixate on the weather.  We can't change it, most of us don't depend on it for our livelihood, and yet, it is something that we talk about an awful lot.

Certainly, we can see God's faithfulness in the changing of the seasons, just as we see it in the rising of the sun and the rotations of the planets.  And this is what I am grateful for -- not a little fall of snow, or its melting -- but a great God who loves and cares for the smallest details of this Universe and who is faithful in its administration.

This Thanksgiving I am grateful for many things, but most of all, I am thankful that Jesus loves me.

Pessimistic

Margaret was a born pessimist.  Not that I knew here when she was born.  She was probably about 78 years of age, when I first met her.

One day she came in to see me with a slightly happier look on her perpetually gloomy countenance.  "Dr. Waldron," she said.  "Something good almost happened to me last week."

"What was that?"  I asked her.

"Well, my son, Charlie, took me down to the pharmacy to get my prescriptions filled the other day and while we were down there, I didn't know it, but he put my name in a drawing to win a free scooter."

"Oh," I said.

"Yes," said Margaret.  "You can probably guess already.  I was pretty shocked when the man from the pharmacy called to say that I'd won that scooter.  I thought they must have called the wrong Margaret, but he assured me that no, they had the right person.  Well, I was pretty pleased for a little while -- till they got it out to my place and saw how big it was."

"Dr. Waldron, I just don't know what I'm going to do with it.  It's just way too big for me!"

Margaret was just one of those blessed folks who believes there can't be a silver lining without a dark cloud somewhere near.  That where there is smoke, there's sure to be a fire -- and likely a burning house with children in it.

Such an attitude is depressing to be around and it can be contagious.

Of course, the difference is all in perspective.  There wasn't any real down side to her scooter -- it was free.  She could use it a little or a lot, it didn't matter.

I am afraid that I can have a pretty similar view of the world, depending on the day.  It seems unreasonable to turn from pessimism to optimism, for optimists are often wrong.  Bad things do happen and even the most optimistic person can get beaten down in this world.  Instead of optimism, I need joy.

For, joy bubbles forth from a heart that knows that God is good and that everything happens in accordance with His plan. In that joy and gratefulness even the darkest parts of life can be appreciated and the good things are enjoyed far more.

I would live in joy today.

Red Delicious?

Red Delicious.  By all accounts, based on the name, these should be the best or, almost the best apples.  They just aren't the best, by any means.

The first Red Delicious apple tree was grown on a farm near Peru, Iowa in 1880.  People liked it immediately and recognized it as a good eating apple.  It has been grown ever since.

I don't mind Red Delicious apples, in fact, I quite like them.  Except for one thing.  Many of them are hypocrites.

On the outside, they appear firm and beautifully red in color, but when you bite into them, you find a soft apple that lost its flavor awhile ago.  Beauty may be only skin deep, but with apples, it is the flavor and the texture that are important, not the color of the peeling.

There are far too many people who claim to be Christians who do not have the "taste" of Christians to others.  Everyone knows what a Christian is supposed to be, what he is supposed to do, and how he should act.  They are pretty quick to notice and point out inconsistencies.

There is little worse, to one who does not know Christ, then to see someone who claims to be a Christian act in a way that is not Christ-like.  I have heard so many people say things like:  "I would never be a Christian.  My brother claims to be one and he's the biggest hypocrite you ever saw!"

It is my responsibility to live as a true disciple of Christ.  It must not, cannot be just a surface change.  It will only be real if my heart is changed.

Red Delicious apples are all too often Mealie Masqueraders.  I would be like a Fuji or, a Gala apple, where what is on the surface goes to the core.  Love, kindness -- the sweetness of Christ permeating my life and leading others to Him.

Is Spelling Important?

"Beatle starts with 'B!'"  Elliot said emphatically.  He is learning some of his letters and beginning sounds.

"What does Vince start with?"  I asked him.

"Bince starts with 'B!'"  Elliot said.

Elliot reminds me of Spanish speakers in Central America.  For them, the letters B and V are the same sound.  Why a word like "bienvenidos" is spelled with a B and V rather than two Bs is a mystery to them.

Spelling in English is really tough.  You have weird rules like "i before e," that have a multitude of exceptions.  There are strange silent letters like p in "pneumonia" and k in "knight."  There are words that are spelled differently, but pronounced the same, like faux and foe.  There are even words that are spelled the same and pronounced differently like Polish and polish. 

I have found that it is easier to spell words correctly, if you can say them correctly. At least sometimes.

I know that many people believe that spelling is unimportant and that with the advent of computers and spell checkers and weird abbreviations like ROFL, you can get by quite in this world without learning how to spell.

Maybe they are right.  Maybe I am a throwback to the twentieth century, but I must confess that I believe a certain knowledge of spelling is important.  There are many things that separate most of us from the animals, beyond the ability to grunt "yes" in reply to the question "Do you want pancakes for breakfast?"  One of the most important of these is that we can pick up a pen, place it to paper and communicate -- without a spell checker and without electricity -- and that is a very cool thing, indeed.

Going to Heaven

Elliot at lunch time one day said:  "We're going to be with Jesus."

We were taken aback for a second, not sure where the statement came from.  Elaine said,  "Yes, Elliot, we will go to heaven some day."

Elliot's lower lip quivered.  "I don't want to go to be with Jesus!"  He said emphatically.

It turned out that Anna had been instructing Vince and Elliot on their futures.  Elliot had misunderstood and thought that he was going to heaven that afternoon.

Of course, people talk about heaven a lot and the fact that they want to go there when they die, but I think for most of them, they hope that day is a long ways off.  I suppose most of us want to go to heaven, we just don't want to have to die to get there.

And yet, if heaven is so much better than anything we can experience here on earth, wouldn't we want to go there?

Perhaps the biggest problem is that death seems so unknown.  We trust the seen, known life we live in the now rather than the unknown life in the here-after.

I don't know a whole lot about heaven.  It sounds pretty good in the Bible, but I imagine there's a lot of things left out in the descriptions there.  At the same time, my confidence isn't in a place with streets of gold, it is in a Heavenly Father who has never failed me.

While I don't know much about heaven, any place He is preparing for me has got to be pretty awesome.

Stained Hands

As I look at my fingernail beds today, they are dark and they have been that way since a couple of Saturdays ago.  Of course, my daughter Anna's fingers look worse than mine.

On Saturday, she and I peeled the hulls off of many black walnuts.  They still aren't cracked (that's a fun activity for another day), but they are ready to be.  Walnut juice stains really deeply.  Even after multiple scrubbings, the stain remains.

Last Monday, Anna's teacher even made her go wash her hands, because they looked so dirty.  I guess at least it's clean dirt...

I think of the verse from Psalms "Who shall ascend the hill of the LORD?  And who shall stand in His holy place?  He who has clean hands and a pure heart..."  This verse speaks of clean hands, but one can have filthy, walnut stained hands and still have clean hands before God.

The verse is clearly speaking of sin stains.  These are stains that go far deeper than even the subcutaneous layers.  These are stains that go to the heart.

There is a tendency to think that the remedy for sin is good deeds.  We just need to do more good than bad and that will clean the dirtied hands.  The only problem is that it doesn't work.  Sin stains are a lot more tenacious than even black walnut juice.

In the end, the only thing that will wash away these stains is the blood Jesus Christ.  For only the power in His blood can make my hands clean and heart pure before Him.

Catching Ebola

I read last week a survey of Americans that showed that they are moderately scared of getting Ebola, but that they have a lot of confidence that if they would contract the virus, they would be treated effectively.  In my opinion, that's a little backward -- I am not worried about catching Ebola, but would be pretty concerned if I actually contracted it.  But at least people aren't afraid of everything.

I suppose that's good, as it prevents panic in the streets (although not on Facebook).  Truthfully, for the tiny number of patients with Ebola Virus, who were treated in this country, the survival rate is pretty good -- far better than it is in the African nations dealing with the virus.

In the end, even in the United States, there is no "cure" for Ebola.  Infectious disease specialists have used HIV drugs, ZMAPP, and plasma infusions from Ebola survivors, but they cannot say for certain which of these things was, or will be effective.

I am afraid that modern medicine is too good at seeming like it has answers, even if it doesn't actually know very much.  The fact that we are doing "something," even if it is likely ineffective, gives people the illusion of control.

Much of life and health is actually beyond the control of humans -- even doctors who are specialists.  That is fine, because there are a lot bigger hands than ours in charge of this world.

I'm afraid that God has to bring us to the point where everything is spinning out of control, just so that we will give the control we never really had to Him.  For, when we are in God's hands, the wisest One in the Universe is in control of our destiny.  And even in the middle of an Ebola epidemic, that is a very safe place to be.

Making the Right Diagnosis

"The history is the most important thing!"

I still remember those words, spoken by one of my attending physicians in medical school.  An encounter with a patient is broken up into three parts.  The history, or what the patient tells the provider, the physical examination, and review of testing (labs/xrays).

Many believe that the physician should be like Sherlock Holmes, carefully inspecting the finger nail beds of their patients, looking at their tongues, and the soles of their feet.  Then, finally after a period of silence intone the fateful diagnosis:  "You, sir, have Tsutsugamushi Disease!"

It isn't that way.  I know about my patients from what they tell me and the key for me is listening.  Studies show that many doctors interrupt their patients within thirty seconds of them beginning to speak.  Doctors feel that they are "on the clock" and need to come to a conclusion quickly, so they can move on to the next patient. 

I feel these same time constraints.  Still, I have learned that if I let my patients tell the story in their own words, my patient tell me what I need to know in order to come to a conclusion and it really doesn't take that much time.

It isn't just about listening to patients either.  There are many people whose voices contribute to good care.  Nurses, techs, and medical assistants all tell me many things that I wouldn't know otherwise -- things that perhaps the patients wouldn't tell me, but share with them.  It may not even be symptoms, but other things, such as reasons why they aren't taking their medications or, family situations that are impacting their health.

I am just not smart enough to figure out every diagnosis without some help.  Even more, I can't always get a person the treatment that is best for them without understanding, not only their illness, but also, who they are.

It isn't easy to listen.  More often than not, when a person is speaking, doctors are figuring out what to say next or, the next question to ask.

In the end, listening isn't about me, it is about the person in the chair across from me, the nurse at the desk, or the patient in the bed.  As I listen, I will not only identify what my patient's illness is, I will learn who they are and understanding who someone is is sometimes one of the most important things to helping them find healing.

Lying to Your Doctor

A man diagnosed with Ebola Virus is under treatment in Dallas, Texas.  Two days before he was admitted to the hospital, he was seen in the Emergency Department with fever and abdominal pain.

Now, due to HIPPA, we are unlikely to know exactly what transpired during this visit, but it seems that the patient mentioned to the nursing staff that he was visiting from Liberia, but did not make further mention of it.  It is particularly clear that this Liberian gentleman did not emphasize to the physician that he was from Liberia or, that he had recently had close contact with a woman who died from Ebola.

I don't totally understand the rationale for not sharing this information.  I would have mentioned this several times just to be sure that the medical staff included it in the possible diagnoses, but maybe that's just me.

"Excuse me, Dr. Smith, but about a week ago I watched a lady die from Ebola.  I just thought I'd mention that."

I am always amazed by people who choose to lie to their doctor or, at the least, fudge the truth. 

I remember a woman with diabetes who brought in her sugar log books.  Carefully noted in the columns were various sugars, all between 90 and 140.  A couple of slightly elevated sugars -- 176 and 182 -- were noted with little notes:  "Ate at Golden Corral," or "Aunt Nellie's Birthday Cake."

"Looks good, Lynn," I said.

"Can I get you to cut down on my insulin dosage?"  She asked me quickly.

"Let's see what your A1C showed," I said.  I clicked on it and paused.  "Oh my, Lynn," I said.  "Your A1C test is 14.1."

"What does that mean?"  She asked.

"It means that your average sugar over the last three months has been a little over 360."

"Oh," she said and was quiet.

The whole log book was a complete fabrication.  There was no reason for Lynn to lie to me.  Even if I had no way of checking her average sugar, lying about it wouldn't change the fact that it was totally and completely out of control.  Lying about it wouldn't change the effects that the high sugar was having every day on her eyes, kidneys, and nerve endings.

Lying to your doctor doesn't hurt your doctor at all.  It just hurts you.

In the end, I am afraid that there far too many people who don't just lie to their doctors.  Many people deceive themselves and try to deceive their Maker too.  Of course, it never works, because no amount of lies can change the heart's condition.

In the end, honesty is not just the best policy, it is the only way to begin the path that leads to physical and spiritual healing.

A Three Year Old's Sense of Time

I was taking Elliot to the bathroom.  He apparently had other things on his busy schedule and didn't want any part of it.

"Just sit for a little while," I told him, encouragingly.

"I don't need to poop, Dad," he said emphatically.

"No?"

"No, Dad," he said.  "I pooped last year!"

Now, Elliot is correct in his statement, although whether or not he remembers the particular event is debatable.  Even more debatable is whether or not he has any concept of how long a year is or, when last year actually was.

As I look at his three year old sense of time, I think about how much different my sense of time is from his.  Yet, even though I know when next week is and when last week was, I am far removed from God's perception of time.

I think of this, in particular, concerning God fulfilling his promises.  "But do not overlook this one fact, beloved, that with the Lord one day is as a thousand years and a thousand years as one day.  The Lord is not slow to fulfill His promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance."  (II Peter 3:8,9)

If God promises us something, He will fulfill it -- in His perfect time and way.  It is just that I usually don't perceive time the way He does.

There are time that I wish God would hurry up a little, but I never need to worry.  For, whether it is last year, this year, or next year, God will be right where He always is -- right on time.

Vaccines

"Oh, one thing more," the elderly lady sitting across from me said.

Now, I must confess that I have learned to dread the "one more thing" questions that seem to come at the end of office visits.  The questions may be short, but so often they are anything but easy to answer.

"What's that?"  I asked.

"Could I get a tetanus shot today?"  Mildred asked.

I relaxed a little.  "Sure," I said, wondering a little.  There aren't many 89 year old women who are particularly concerned about keeping their tetanus shot up to date.

Mildred, it seemed, could read my mind.  "You are wondering why I am concerned about getting my tetanus shot.  Well, young man, I will tell you.  My aunt died of tetanus.  It was long before they had the vaccine and there was nothing to do but watch her die.  It was terrible way to die."

I have never seen a case of tetanus, never had a patient die from lock jaw.  I have only read about it in pathology textbooks and so, for me, it isn't real.  For Mildred, it was.

These days, there is a lot of fear of vaccines.  Anecdotes abound of the terrible things that vaccines have caused.  Some of these things are real, some just happenstance, but I am afraid that the biggest issue is that vaccines are too successful.  People are no longer afraid of the diseases that the vaccines are designed to prevent.

When the polio vaccines were first created by Jonas Salk and Albert Sabin, people did not question their safety.  Everyone knew a child who walked with a limp or, a teenager who had died in an iron lung from it.  Polio was far scarier than the vaccine that prevented it.

Even now, if you set up a clinic in West Africa and offered to vaccinate people with a completely untested vaccine against Ebola Virus, you would have a line a mile long at your door.  It isn't because people want a shot, it is because they are desperately afraid of a deadly illness without a cure.

The internet is an awfully effective magnifier of fear and anxiety.  Yet, I am afraid that all too often it creates fear in the wrong things.

The diseases of yesterday can and will return, without the effective vaccines of today.

Small Miracles

There is a need within this world,

  Let it be said, for God, for His presence,
For His greatness and smallness, touching here
  And filling all things with His triune essence;
For a simple sense of something greater,
  Able to work mighty deeds of wonder
And reach down through the wind and rain
  To spark the lightning and peal the thunder.

Small Miracles.

Ordinary, every day, run-of-the-mill miracles
  Things we see in nature every day,
Created with an awe-inspiring beauty
  To fulfill a divine plan and way.
Yet, these little things are easily explained
  By equations of physics and mathematics
And in a burst of logic faith is lost,
  Thrown into the domain of mere fanatics.

The deepest needs remain unfilled.
  Science finds more questions for every answer
And for every treated acute bronchitis,
  It seems to find an uncured cancer.
Science's miracles have limits here --
  Limits set by the human mind,
Which cannot fathom the smallest things
  Which divine fingers once designed.

So, even in this world of science,
  There is still a desperate need
For someone to touch within hurt lives
  To heal the scars, to staunch each bleed…
A need for something more that cannot,
  Will not be fit into the small space
That science still allows for God –
  There is still a need for God, in this place.

Joel Osteen

Joel Osteen is really popular right now -- with just about everyone (except a few folks on facebook).  I suppose it isn't surprising.  He is relentlessly upbeat.  He doesn't talk about negative things a whole lot.  He is someone who does his best to offend no one and please the masses.  He is a politician as well as a pastor.

I'm not a theologian, but it seems that Joel Osteen is in favor of people living with abundance, being happy, and doing good.  He doesn't like to talk about sin, because he prefers to dwell on the positive things.

He believes that God wants us to be happy and who could be upset with someone who is in favor of general happiness?

The problem with the whole situation is that he has forgotten how to speak truth.  Pastors have a responsibility to speak truth, even when it is painful.

When I see my patients, I always attempt to identify good things in their lives.  If they have lost a couple of pounds, if their cholesterol is two points better, I commend them.

I think it is just as important for me to share their problem areas with them.  If all of my patients walk away happy and satisfied with themselves, believing they are paragons of health, they may like me, but I have been a failure.

In the same way, pastors have a responsibility to identify the moral decay in the world around us and in their congregations and expose it.

Somehow, in a world that desires happiness and abundance, they must bring a suffering Savior front and center.

The message of the cross is clear.  Christ came and died for sinners, of whom I am chief.  Jesus came to bring joy within the storm.  He came to give us the strength to suffer.  He came so that we could walk in pain and rise above it.

This world needs a real Savior who speaks to us in our sorrow, not a glib pastor who wall papers over it with feel-good statements of happiness.

There is power in the cross.  There is power in truth.  For those will choose them.

What's Your Motivation?

I put my laptop down and clicked on Edwin's name.  "Did she prick your finger already?"  I asked him.  He nodded in response.

"Well," I said.  "Let's see...  Awesome!  Your A1C test dropped three points since your last visit here.  That's great.  Wow!  Your weight is down twelve pounds, too."

Edwin nodded again.  "When you told me I had sugar last time, I remembered how my uncle Harry had to have his leg cut off because of it and I decided to get things under control."

"You've done well," I told him.  "A drop of three percent in your A1C is the same as dropping your average sugar by 90 points.  But I have to warn you:  right now you are motivated by fear.  In my experience, fear is a really bad long-term motivator.  You need something better to get you to watch your diet than thinking about your Uncle Harry's stump."

A year later, Edwin was back in the same chair, but this time it wasn't such a happy visit.  He had gained back his twelve lost pounds -- and five more and his A1C test was up two percent."

"What happened, Ed?" I asked him.

"You were right, Dr. John," he told me.

"About what?"  I asked, not remembering our conversation.

"About fear not motivating me.  I found out I could cheat a little bit here and there and it didn't seem to effect how I felt.  Gradually, I fell right back into my old ways of eating.  I'm just a lost cause," Edwin finished dejectedly.

"No, you're not," I told him.  "You are just going to have to start doing today what you should have done a year ago."

It is difficult to become self-motivated.  When we are childen, we get up, go to school, and do our homework in response to scolding and often, the threat of punishment.  Later on, we may develop other motivators, but they are often based on the same childhood themes -- fear and guilt.

I am convinced that fear and guilt motivate people to do the minimum they believe is necessary to get by.  This is true not just in health, but also, in all aspects of life -- even the way we follow in Jesus' footsteps.

Somehow we must get to the place where we are motivated by a desire to be healthy, rather than because of a fear of disease. 

Rather than acting like Christ because we are afraid of hell, we must be motivated by a love for God and for our fellow humans.

For, these are motivations that will not burn out with time.

Just Another Block

"I need a red, six-piece block," Vince said.  He turned his attention to a large mound of Lego pieces of different colors and sizes.

As he sifted through the various blocks, he often would find a piece that was close and the discard it.  Finally, he found the right one and snapped it into place.

I must confess that to me, a stack of Lego pieces is pretty much worthless.  I can't build anything with the -- at least not without instructions.  I can't tell what pieces are usable for different things.

My son, Vince, can tell quickly what pieces he needs to build a variety of vehicles or, buildings.  The pieces stand out to him because he is a builder.  He knows his blocks, as silly as that may sound.

In a world as big as ours is, it is easy for us to feel lost as a single lego piece in a mound of seven billion lego pieces.  There is nothing that makes us truly special -- no way in which we are original, or will change the world.

In a sense, each one of is just a tiny sparrow in a huge flock of sparrows -- all chatting away and all of little worth.

Jesus said "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny?  And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father... Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows."  And so we are.  Not because of who we are, but because of who God is.  Somehow He can use even the squarest pegs, the smallest of sparrows, and even the oddest shaped Lego block.

It is not that we are the biggest block in the stack or, the most finely shaped, it is that the builder has a plan for us.  What is important is not who we are, but whose we are.

Our Heavenly Father looks down  into a pile of oddly shaped Lego pieces and recognizes us and knows us.  And lifting us gently from the stack, He gently places us in the place that He had planned the whole time.

For, we are valuable to Him and He loves each one of us as individuals.  In a world of seven billion, that is an amazing thing and blessing enough to lift the heart on the darkest of days.

Dealing with Depression

"Dr. Waldron," the man sitting across from me said earnestly.  "What do you think I should do?"

I looked at Nelson.  "What do you think you should do?"  It is sort of a non-answer, but sometimes those are the best.

"I just don't know," he said.  He looked down at his callused, workman's hands.  "There is a man -- a couple of men -- in my church who tell me that depression is a spiritual problem.  If I just had faith, I could go off of my medication.  God would give me real joy -- not like these medicines give."

Nelson wasn't the first person I had heard say these things.  I knew he was struggling.  He had been on medication for depression for several years.  We had tried to take him off of it a couple of times and he just didn't do well.

I shook my head.  "It isn't a good idea for you to stop your medicine," I said.  "Do you think there's some spiritual problem that you aren't dealing with?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Do you think you have a better relationship with God when you take your medicine or, when you don't?"

"Oh, definitely when I take my medicine.  When I go off, the despair gets so blinding that I can't do anything."

"Then you should keep taking it."

Depression and mental illness are hard things to deal with -- hard for those who experience them -- harder for those who have never experienced them to understand.  They are invisible, seem so less substantial than pneumonia, or diabetes, and seem so much more in someone's control than these physical maladies.  Many are certain that a person should be able to think his way out of such a mental state.

Christian people often take this a step further, saying that depression is proof of a severed relationship with God.  This is a dangerous attitude to take. 

An attitude like this discourages people in need from seeking help and encourages those who are receiving treatment to discontinue their medications.  The underlying message is "Your Depression isn't real, it is only in your head."

But depression is real.  Those who have not walked in the Valley of Severe Depression do not know how dark this vale is, but those who are there now, need light and they need hope.

I do not believe that all illness -- mental or physical -- comes because of some divine judgment. 

Why does it come?  So that we can become more like Christ and so that God can be glorified in our lives.

We must not set up barriers to prevent hurting people from receiving help.  The message of the gospel is clear.  For unwell people there is hope and there is healing, if they but come.

I believe that medication is part of that healing.

Against the Current!

One day at school, my son Vince was standing, somewhat dejected, trying to make his way down a hallway in which a large number of students were moving in the opposite direction.  He was just one, small for his age, five year old boy trying to make his way against a tide of bigger children and making no progress. 

He saw a teacher walking in the same direction he was.  He looked up at her and then, trustingly placed his small hand in hers and walked beside her down the hall.

I think about this now, as I think of Dr. Kent Brantly, who left the possibility of a comfortable life and well paying job as a physician in the United States to minister to the poor in Liberia.  I think of my mother, who left her medical practice to teach high school in Niger.  There are so many who others who step out in faith, leaving the obvious path, not moving with the flow of society.

Robert Frost tells in the poem "The Road Not Taken" about two roads which diverged in a yellow wood.  The paths are a metaphor for life and the decisions we face there and as Mr. Frost looks at the roads, he decides to take the road that has been traveled less.

So often, though, we are called not to take a road that is seldom traveled, but a road in which all of the travelers are moving in the other direction.  Walking down such a road brings fear and uncertainty.

It is in this situation, as we question our road, our motives and our destination that we realize that our heavenly Father is standing beside us -- that He was there all of the time.  In that moment, the only way to go on is to trustingly reach up and take His hand and walk with Him into the future.

All the uncertainty will be replaced with confidence, for He is there.  For, when we are not enough, God is faithful and will lead us through corridors of opposition to the place that He has prepared just for us.

If we will but take His hand and let Him lead.

Fear of Ebola

Dr. Kent Brantly has Ebola virus.  He is in Liberia and a decision has been made to fly him and another American to Atlanta, Georgia.  Obviously, the decision to fly was based on the fact that he currently is in an undermanned, underequipped hospital in West Africa and would be coming to a University facility where proper care can be given to give him the best chance of survival.

The odd thing is that upon receiving word that Kent was bringing this deadly virus to the United States, the internet became alive with commenters who were upset at the danger of such a flight and of his presence in their previously safe country.  They very strongly hold the opinion that it isn't safe or wise to allow him to bring this virus so close to home.

As far as I can tell, these comments are mainly motivated by fear.  People are afraid of this dangerous an epidemic sweeping across North America.

It is understandable too.  Every story I have read quotes the mortality figures for Ebola as having "up to ninety percent fatality," even though it has been quite a bit less than this with the current out break. 

Ebola isn't terribly contagious.  The biggest out breaks in the past, while deadly, have only killed a few hundred people, even though they take place in highly populated areas of Africa that have few facilities for dealing with such a virus.  There is reason for fear, but there is more reason for hope.

In addition, Dr. Brantly will be flying in a carefully controlled environment with numerous precautions in place to keep the virus from spreading.  He will be cared for, when he arrives at Emory University, in a facility well able to take care of him without transmission of the virus.

Most of all, I think about the reasons it is that we are flying him home for better care.  It is for compassion.  It is for healing.  It is for love.

Love and fear cannot coexist.  In the book of First John, it says "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear..."  Kent Brantly went into a dangerous situation because of love -- love that was greater than his fear.

I would pray that he would be healed.  More than that, I would pray that Americans (and others around the world) would lay down their fear and love as Christ loved.  For only in that perfect love can we live without fear.

Express Train

We were on the "Express Train," going to downtown Chicago.  The train usually stops multiple times as it travels from the suburbs to Union Station, but our train was not going to stop at any of the last six stops before we got to Union Station.  It was going to be a quick trip.

And then, we stopped.  We weren't at a station and there wasn't anything we could see that was delaying us.Finally, a conductor told us that a freight train in front of us had "run into a bridge."

Some forty-five minutes later, they announced that we were going to have to back up to where we could switch to a different track.  That is exactly what we did.

While we were backing up, two non-express trains passed us on the way in to Chicago.  In the end, a trip that normally takes about an hour took two and a half hours.

I don't really think that life is like a mountain railroad, but there is no doubt that many things don't happen right on schedule, or according to plan.  There have been all too many times when I thought things were moving on the fast track, only to run into something that tried my small store of patience.

In the end, things happen according to God's time table and His trains do not run on a random schedule.  They run perfectly, in order to bring His people to the goal He desires for the.  This will not always be as fast as I want, but knowing that I am on His time table makes all of the difference.

Small Kindnesses

My son, Vince, struggles with loud noises.  I remember taking him to a children's musical and holding him, shaking through the entire thing.  Recently, at his Grandma W's dedication service, a praise band played.  The whole time, Vince cowered with his hand covering his ears.

The sound of hand dryers in bathrooms really bothers him.  Recently, we were in a national park bathroom and he was waiting for me with his hands over his ears, fearful that someone would activate the hand dryer.

A man stepped to the sink and washed his hands.  Then, he glanced over and saw Vince.  Two boys were at the sink next to him, also washing their hands.

"Don't use the hand dryer," he said softly to them, nodded courteously to me and stepped out of the bathroom.

In that moment, I was overwhelmed.  I was overwhelmed that someone had seen my son, covering his ears and had understood what his fear was.  I was overwhelmed at the basic kindness shown to my son by a stranger.

I am convinced that kindness begins with perception.  It is not enough to have a heart full of love.  If I do not see my brother's need, if I do not understand his pain, I can do nothing to show love to him in that situation.

All too often, I am so busy about my business that I don't see those in need at the edges of my road.  I miss the needy hanging around in the shadows.

If I do not see a boy standing in a public bathroom covering his ears and understand what his need is, I will never show him love.

And that would be very sad indeed.

Footprints in the Sand

We walked or, rather, hiked, down part of the Cumberland Trail.  It was a rough trail that lead from Signal Point, meandering up and down the side of the mountain, with (very occasional) amazing vistas to look out over the Smoky Mountains and the Tennessee River winding between them.

The trial is very rough.  When there are steps, they are often large and irregular.  At some point, I lifted my three year old son, Elliot, onto my shoulders and carried him.  Things were a lot easier after that time.  We could go at a faster pace and he didn't struggle with steps any more.

As I carried him down and then up the hill, I though of the story of the "Footprints in the Sand."  It tells how a man reaches the end of his life and sees it portrayed with two sets of footprints, except in certain areas where there was only one set.  God tells him that there was only one set of footprints in those locations, because God was carrying him through hard times.

That has not been my experience with God as my Father.  God does not lift me up on His shoulders to carry me across the uneven rocks, rather He takes my hand and with infinite patience coaxes me across the hard places.

It is His strength that upholds me, His will that guides, and His foreknowledge that chooses the trail that I take.  He never carries me over the rough places, but instead helps me through them.

This is the way that I gain strength, which I would not do if He carried me.  For, my God loves me enough to do for me what He can help me do myself and patient enough to let me take my time doing it.  And that makes Him a most Awesome Father!

Bananas and Tomatoes

Just before the frost last fall, I went out to our garden. The tomato plants were on their last legs, but there were still many green tomatoes hanging on the vines.

One by one, I picked them and then brought them inside. I knew that the next day everyone of the plants would be dead.

I looked at the green tomatoes when I got them inside. There was not a trace of color on them anywhere. Still, there are a number of ways to ripen, even the greenest of tomatoes.

I carefully placed the tomatoes in a container and then, I placed two bananas with them. Over the next couple of weeks, I replaced the bananas once, while the tomatoes ripened.

You see, for tomatoes to ripen effectively, they require ethylene gas. Tomatoes themselves release some of this, but bananas release quite a bit more. Without this gas, they will remain green and generally unfriendly to the various dishes which call for ripe tomatoes.

Bananas release plenty of ethylene gas so that as they ripen, they spur tomatoes on as well. This is something peculiar to bananas. Put three or four kiwi fruits in with the tomatoes and you'll just have a mess on your hands in a couple of weeks.

It takes a special person to help others on to spiritual maturity. As I read through the New Testament, it seems that Barnabas, the son of consolation, was just such a person.

Barnabas nurtured Paul in the beginning, accepting him and accompanying him on his early missionary journey. It was he as well, who spent time with John Mark strengthening that young disciple in his faith.

It is easy to stand back and watch others stand or fall on their own, but God has called us to do more. We must be encouragers, lifters of burdens. We must help others on to spiritual maturity, just as bananas encourage tomatoes to greater redness.

Labor Saving Devices

Humans are always trying to figure out how to make hard things easy, or at the very least, easier. Back in the late 1700s, one of the hard things for farmers in the southern United States to do, was to pick seeds out of cotton. It was so time consuming, that few farmers actually grew much cotton.

Then, a man named Eli Whitney invented a labor saving device that he called the cotton gin. Over night, cotton went from an after thought to a major cash crop in southern United States.

There have been many such devices invented over the years. Things that have made things like sawing, washing clothes and other menial household chores simpler. Yet, in spite of all these inventions, the hardest things in life remain hard.

It is just as hard as it has ever been for a doctor to tell someone that they have cancer. It is no easier for a person to say the words "I'm sorry" and truly mean it. It is just as difficult to say "I forgive you," from the heart, as it was two thousand years ago.

While we humans have developed devices to take the place of our hands, there is nothing that can take the place of the heart. No amount of denial will remove the wounds and joys experienced within the human soul.

Modern psychology, in all its wisdom, is better at uncovering, than it is at curing. All too often, after the mind's river has been dredged, the corpses lie on the shore, simply to rot in a different place.

It is only as we approach God, slowly, in our quiet times, that we can understand. Hard things have to be hard, so that in our weaknesses, we might find God's strength.

There will never be a device to experience our deepest feelings or, make it easier to achieve our soul-desires. For, it is there, in our tear-filled darkness, far from technology, that we find our own, desperate need for God.

Heartburn

It came to pass, not long ago, that I went to a Mexican Restaurant with my wife and I did order a plate of food that caused my nose to run and my face to sweat. And I enjoyed it greatly.

A little while later, I found that my food was to me as Jesus’ words were to the disciples on the road to Emmaus. For, I found that my heart began to burn within me, or rather my esophagus did, which is much the same thing.

Shortly thereafter, I went to my medicine cabinet and searched and there I found Generic Antacids. And I took them with Much Avail.

I reflected then that heartburn might grant some benefit to Mexicans, but to me, I found it quite uncomfortable and something to be avoided.

Then, I began to recall the Words of Jesus and how they held power and the words of the scribes and Pharisees did not. The people had followed Jesus for these powerful Words. And how David had prized God’s Words more than his necessary food.

There are many Christians who have sat down to a feast of Real Doctrine and got up with a bad case of zeal for Building the Kingdom. Many of them did not enjoy it much at all.

In order to quench this fire, the doctors of the world prescribed the Antacids of Things and Good Deeds and most of all, Shallow Music. They did recommend as well, that these people stay away from God’s Word and from those who proclaimed it truly. And for them, there were provided churches that look very much like churches on the outside, but the words that those churches present are not the Living Word and the zeal is Lacking.

As for me, I will continue to search for food that wakes me up and Words that stimulate my spiritual desire for the Things of God. For, though they are hard to digest, these Words bring the best results in the end.

Kindergarten Graduation

Vince graduated from kindergarten this morning.  I have often wondered why children graduate from kindergarten.  It isn't as though they will be moving out on their own soon or, taking driver's ed, or even helping out with the household finances.  They are just moving on to first grade, after all.

It still seems like a big deal.  A time of very little people wearing caps and gowns (purple in Paoli) and walking across a stage to shake hands with the Principal.

I suppose it would be easy to make fun of kindergarten graduations as unnecessary.  No one will make it in life (or not make it for that matter) based on their kindergarten performance. 

The short walk for Vince across the stage, was more than that.  It was indicative of a long year of work --  not just school work, but effort learning to relate to other children, to communicate with his teachers, and to grow in so many other ways.

I remember telling the teachers that it would be OK if he repeated kindergarten, if he struggled too much with it.  The most important thing was what was best for Vince.

As he walked across the stage, I thought about the fact that he had gotten all As this year.  That good things are happening in his life, that I didn't know would happen at the beginning of the school year.

I know that God is good and that He is the giver of good gifts.  And a kindergarten graduation is a good time to remember how good He has been to me and to my son.

Fallen Corn

"It's our best garden ever!"  I told my wife, Elaine last summer -- sometime in June.  "We should have plenty of corn and green beans."

The garden did look good.  Corn stalks stood straight and true, pointing towards the skies, the bean plants were bushy and covered with blooms.

Then came June 26th.  A day of heavy rain, mixed with periods of 45 mile per hour winds.  When I got home from work, our corn plants were lying on their sides in the mud, while the bean plants looked disheveled.

As I looked at them, I was really upset.  So much work wasted.  Time that I would never get back had been sunk into these corn rows that looked like they might not bear much at all.  And it was as if I heard God's voice saying to me, as He said to Jonah so long ago, "Do you do well to be angry for the plants?"

"Yes, God," I said.  "Jonah hadn't done anything to bring his plant to be, but Lord, you know how hard I've worked this summer, planting and tilling and how hard Elaine has worked as well."

There was no answer and yet, I understood.  For, I was proud.  Proud of my work, of my effort, of my garden.  That was where my confidence lay.

All the while, it was God who brought about each seed's germination, God who sent the rain and the sun.  While I had taken the credit, He was the one who had made it grow.

It reminded me of a little boy I had heard talking with his dad.  "Now, Cody, I want you to share one of your candies with her," he said pointing to another little girl.  "Whose candy is it Cody?"

Cody looked at the candy in his sweaty little hand.  "It's God's candy," he said at last and gave it to the girl.  It was hard to give away his own candy, but once he knew it was God's it became easier.

I spent forty-five minutes straightening up the corn stalks and while I did so, I knew for sure that it's not my garden.  It is God's garden.  I'm just working in it.  And if He gives or, He takes away, still, I will bless His name.

An Unnecessary Surgery

It came to pass one day that a young man passed through the pillared entrance to my office, in need of an annual examination.  I spoke with him at length about his condition and then proceeded to examine him.

Upon completion of my examination, John resumed his chair.  "John," I told him.  "You are in excellent health."

John gazed upon my countenance for a few moments and then spoke up.  "Good," he said.  "I guess I won't need a hysterectomy then."

I paused for a moment, not quite sure how to respond and then decided that the best course was agreement.  "Yes, John," I said.  "No hysterectomy for you, Sir!"

Now, John was visiting me from a local group home, so I suppose it is understandable that he wouldn't have known exactly what a hysterectomy was.  It is perhaps unusual that he would have worried about his need for such an unknown surgery ahead of his Physical.

I think it is human nature to worry about the uncertain future -- particularly about things that probably will never happen, but that seem scary to think about.  It is still better to give all these things to God, who can more than deal with them.  For, while you never know for sure whether your surgeon may decide to make an extra boat payment with an unnecessary surgery, you can be sure that God will take you through it all.

Lucky Dog!

I was going through the check out line and carefully put several items on the belt.  I placed there some wrapping paper, a bow, and an anniversary card.  Then, I lifted a fifty pound bag of dog food so the cashier could scan its price.

The cashier looked at all of the items.  "Well," she said.  "Somebody's going to be a very lucky dog!"

I laughed with her.  It was coming up on my wedding anniversary and I already had a gift, but not a card, or wrapping paper.  My dog Zeus needs to eat too, regardless of the occasion.  I could see how it could be a reasonable conclusion to draw from my purchases.

It is really hard to draw accurate conclusions based on small bits of information.  Of course, Sherlock Holmes could tell how tall someone was and whether or not he liked Country Music based on a gum wrapper, but I cannot do the same.

Jumping to conclusions is a good way to stir up trouble.  In the end, the only way to know if a man has an awesome dog, or an anniversary coming up is to ask.

Dirty Feet

I'm not sure why, but when the temperature hits about fifty degrees, many children start to run around out of doors with no shoes.  It is a little odd to see my children running around with a coat and bare feet, but I guess that it works.  Perhaps they have a point.  I have heard many a statement about the amazing amount of heat you lose through your head -- never one about how much you lose through your feet.

Anyway, bare feet makes for dirty feet -- sometimes really dirty feet.  The other day, I was giving Elliot a bath and noticing his filthy feet, I said "Whose feet are really dirty?"

As quick as anything, he replied:  "Vince's!"

"No," I said.  "Your feet are really dirty, Elliot."

"No," he shrieked.  "My feet aren't dirty, Vince's are!"

I'm not sure why he was so offended that I should identify his feet as dirty, but he knew how to deflect the accusation.  All he had to do was to point to his brother's feet.

I can identify all too well with my three year old.  For, I am clean, but not all.  Yet, it does me no good at all to shift attention to my brother's problems, rather than deal with sin in my life. 

I have learned long ago that it is better to let your Dad wash your feet, than to go to bed with mud between your toes.

What Does Not Destroy Me

"What does not kill me, only makes me stronger."

I have read this statement of Friedrich Nietzsche many time.  It is even quoted at times.  I suppose it is brought up in an effort to make people feel better about the dire circumstances that they are experiencing.

The only problem with this statement is that it is patently false.  I can tell you that if you have the choice of getting pneumonia (a) after a hip replacement surgery, (b) after a severe case of influenza or, (c) when you haven't been ill for months and are otherwise healthy, you should choose (c).

Things that do not kill me can still leave me a lot weaker and more suceptible to injury or, infection.

Even in a non-physical sense, there are plenty of wounds that go very deep and are never healed.  There are things that while they do not kill, they still cut deeply into the spirit and psyche.

Nietzsche was of course coming from the perspective of the superman.  This was (a mythical) individual who could rise above all things and endure all things without fear.

My experience is quite different.  For, what I have found is that it is only by placing my future in God's hands am I able to trust that circumstances will not destroy me.  It is only with His strength that I can avoid falling.  For, the fresh wounds of today have a real tendency to become seeping ulcers, ready to break open at any point -- but for the grace of God and His healing.

Yard Signs

It is a time of year when signs start popping up in yards across communities in these United States.  These signs indicate support of a candidate running for prosecutor, or sherriff or, some other noteworthy office.

Obviously, these signs identify the owner of a particular yard with the name on the sign and I suppose, by default, as being opposed to that candidates well-esteemed opponent.

More than three thousand years ago, a man named Joshua stood before a group of Jews and told them "Choose you this day whom you will serve... but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord."  In a sense, Joshua was putting a campaign sign for his God in his front yard.

It takes bravery to make such a stand, but in the end it is totally worth it.  For, Jesus has promised to honor those who honor Him.

Frozen

A couple of weeks ago, quite suddenly with a smell like wires burning, our hot water heater gave up the ghost.  For about twenty-four hours after that, the water coming from the faucets in our home had only one temperature -- two degrees above freezing.

I know this, because I elected to take a shower -- a quite courageous act that I'm sure none of my coworkers truly appreciated.  By the end, I looked much like Princess Anna at the end of Frozen.  Quite clean, perhaps, but chilled to the bone.

It certainly wasn't a very long shower.  The lack of warm water had a chilling effect on my ability to enjoy the experience.

I can tell you that I haven't thanked God for hot water many times in the past, but I have several times since we got our hot water heater replaced.

It is hard to count your blessings if you don't realize that they are blessings.  Sad to say, it is when I lose one that I tend to realize what a blessing it was.

I know that I never valued hot water until I was turned into a shivering ice cube.

I do now.

"Get well son!"

I stood in the hospital room, chatting with an older, somewhat confused lady about her medical condition and why she was in the hospital.  I finished and moved towards the door.  "All right," I said.  "Hopefully you continue to improve and maybe we can discharge you to home tomorrow."

"Is your little boy sick?"  Hazel asked me out of the blue.

I stopped, taken aback and wondering if she was asking about Vince, or Elliot.  "Um... no,"  I said.  "I think both of them are well.  What are you talking about?"

"What it says up there," Hazel said.  "Get well, son!"

I looked at the board where a nurse had written a number of goals for my patient.  And there in  the corner, she had written "Get well soon!" but sloppily enough that could be mistaken for a different word.

It is usually doctors who are accused of having bad handwriting, but obviously there are plenty of nurses who have their struggles as well.  Still, the goal of writing or, speaking is communication.

Sharing ideas, expressing empathy, or even giving criticism all requires words.  I am afraid that all too often the message behind the words is lost in their murkiness.

So, whether I am writing or speaking, I want to be clear.  I don't want any of my patients to wonder if I am addressing them, or someone's little boy.

The Art Master

My daughter, Anna, fancies herself an artist.  There is no telling how many sheets of paper she has filled up with her drawings.

The funny thing is that her younger brother Vince, likes to draw too.  But, what Vince likes to draw are copies of Anna's pictures.

They aren't terribly good forgeries -- I guess what you would expect of a five year old copying a seven year old's art work.  Yet, that's what he draws.

At the same time, it speaks to me of my influence.  Anna is no Rembrandt in her art or, a paragon of virtue in other areas of her life, but her younger brothers look up to her and emulate her behaviors, both good and bad.

Somebody follows you, watching the things you do...

Jesus is watching, maybe Barack Obama is watching, but I know for certain that many little eyes are watching the things I do.  I not only can, but will influence them to do right or wrong with each decision that I make.

The Source of Strength

"I'm finally feeling better," the lady sitting across from me said.  "Thank you for hanging in there with me."

Tessa had been struggling with some mental health issues and we had finally found a medication that evened things out for her.

"That's what I do," I said, a little awkwardly.

"I know," she said and looked over at the wall.  "I remember the first time I came in here.  I wasn't in this room.  In one of your other rooms you have a picture of Christ at a bedside, bringing healing."

"When I saw that picture, I knew I could trust you, because I knew who you served."

I nodded.  There is no other explanation for why I do what I do.  It isn't for altruism, or some deep inner joy.  It isn't even for some amazing love I've developed for everyone around me.  Those things are great things to have, but they have a tendency to let you down, when you are tired, low on sleep, and frustrated.

There is only One who has never let me down.  When I am standing at a bedside, with nothing more to give, no special words to say, Jesus Christ is the One who keeps me going.

And if, sometimes I can bring a little light into dark situations, it is because He has brought light to me.  When I am not enough and I want to give up, He hangs in there and keeps on giving.  That is more than enough for me.

Like Dad

I was standing in the bathroom, waiting for Elliot to do his business, when my three year old son piped up.  "Dad, I'm like you!"

"Oh?"  I said, not sure where he was going with this conversation.

"Yes, Dad," he said.  "You like Mom and I like Mom!"

I guess it is a good thing that even at three years of age, Elliot can tell that his parents are in love.  Because, he is quite right.  I do love my beautiful wife, very much.

This is not a subject that I have spent much time discussing or instructing him about.  I am not a terribly romantic husband either, always showing up with flowers and chocolates.  Even so, Elliot figured it out.

There is more caught than taught.

Children figure out who their parents really are, not just what the facade is that they show to the outside world.

Someday, I hope Elliot says to me (not in a bathroom):  "Dad, I'm like you.  You love Jesus and I love Jesus too."

Yes, that would surely make my day.

 

A Sense of Quiet

We were on our way home from church, one dark and stormy night, and the noise levels in our mini van were approaching the levels found in a small jet engine.  Elaine said, to our somewhat noisy children:  "Let's have a game and see who can be quiet the longest."

Well, there is nothing like a contest to get our children's competitive juices flowing.  There was complete silence for about twenty or twenty-five seconds.  Then, from the back seat came the plaintive voice of Elliot through the silence.  "I lose," he said.

I don't know that my children are different from other children, in that they don't like too much quiet.  One or two of them are always talking and when they are present, silence must flee.

Paul told on of the churches to "Study to be quiet." (I Thessalonians 4:11)  I believe that many teens and adults struggle against quietness.  Whether it is with music or, conversations, it is easy to make sure there is not too much quiet time in a day.

And yet, it is in quietness that God's voice speaks to me.  For, it is in those peaceful moments, when all is still, that my soul is able to reach beyond these earthly bounds.  And honestly, that has never happened in my mini van.