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In This Moment
Traveling On
Five weeks of bombing between Lebanese Hezbollah and the State of Israel ended in a fragile ceasefire last week that seems to be holding itself together. Since the ceasefire began on August 14, passages have been opening for delivery of humanitarian aid denied the 750,000 people World Vision estimates were displaced by the conflict. Many of these people left with minimal food, water and clothing, and when they return their homes may be destroyed. World Vision also indicates that initial relief efforts are directed toward immediate physical needs for water, hygiene kits and food. Next will follow expansion of child-focused programming and protection, including psychosocial activities and child-friendly spaces. UNICEF estimates that one-third of the people killed were children and that one-half of the displaced in Lebanon are children. Meanwhile, recent missile attacks in Gaza have left one million people without electricity and water. Food shortages are just around the corner.
News of the ceasefire reached me while I was on vacation in the Southwestern United States admiring God's handiwork at the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. It's an interesting place, rather peaceful and serene, simply because its majesty is too enormous to grasp, no matter how long or how much you try. What was very clear, though, and easy to discern, were the many languages spoken at the Canyon's edge that day. Japanese, German, French, Spanish and Italian all mingled in the air like a European audio masterpiece. Interesting too that what lies within U.S. borders really belongs to the whole world. Perhaps that sense of global community is what kept bringing my mind back to what the Lebanese and Israeli people had suffered over the past month. Air raids, bombings, and scurrying back and forth between homes and shelters seeking safe haven for themselves and their families. Businesses unable to open, a severely-damaged economy in a Beirut finally recovering from twenty years of civil war. People dead and property destroyed because armed conflict is not an exact science. Many, many people suffering needlessly.
On my flight home I was reminded again that this fire dance between Israel and Lebanon, which the world watched and fretted over from a distance, was lived out in real lives. A gentleman on my flight was on the first leg of his journey home to Haifa. We only spoke briefly. I expressed my sadness for both countries, but also my desire to visit Israel at some point in the future. He assured me it was a safe, beautiful country, and easy to travel through under normal circumstances. We also spoke about how it is the extremists in each culture that seem to put pressure on the world to take notice through fear and violence. Our conversation ended on the concern that each new event of international unrest raises: we don't know what the long-term effects will be on the children displaced from their homes and those displaced from their sense of safety and peace. My traveling companion said his country has estimated that twenty percent of the children affected by this struggle would not recover fully, even with appropriate care and counseling. Deep sadness filled these words that expressed a legacy for the next generation to work through in their own time and way.
We each carry a part of the landscape of this legacy in our own souls, one after another, as we decide how our belief in God weaves its way through our lives and into the next generation. We hear a good bit about mega-churches, yet crave the small, still voice in our lives that means God knows us individually and intimately. We talk of evangelizing the unchurched "so they may know the abundance of God's grace and the joy of salvation through Jesus Christ as their personal Lord and Savior," but don't communicate very well among ourselves about what that means for getting along with our neighbors, applying our faith at work or making positive, meaningful contributions to our communities. Believing in God is something many people say, but most of us aren't sure how to do, so we don't. We may go to church, take our children to Sunday School and tithe, plus ten percent more. But could we define that which we say is what we believe for our children, if they asked, in practical, livable terms?
My guess is that for most people the answer would be no. What mostly would be drawn out of the Belief Survival Kit Manuel would be catalogue copy reminiscent of the brochures from the Grand Canyon: beautiful, somewhat accurate, but not very embodied. But something about that tourist ad copy may prevail. Every piece of information I read said to bring a camera, take lots of pictures, and not to expect them to match the experience of standing at the rim of the Canyon itself. Everyone must see the Canyon for themselves.
Perhaps we need to find our own ways to pass this most important legacy on to the next generation. We live in a shared world of experience, but we each have an individual perspective and a unique relationship with God. It is an important legacy, this working out of our own salvation. We must be sure to pass it on.
God's blessings, Cory
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A Certain Order of Things
Adventure looms close on my personal horizon. Vacation time arrives next week and I am traveling to a place I have never been before, the Western United States. I'd watched a PBS special last summer and felt a distinct pull to go to Yosemite National Park this year. Although that is not my destination, I feel I have kept an important promise to myself of which I am still in the process of discerning. I'll get back to you with the details on that as they unfold. What I've realized as I've begun the usual pre-trip preparations is how easy it is to slide off course or step off the trail when we are distracted by things in the distance, or things in the distant past, that are a part of our lives, but don't necessarily inform or contribute to what we need to be doing for ourselves right how. At least by logical standards.
As I've been cleaning, organizing, paying bills, sorting clothing and arranging for cat care, as I am wont to do before any trip, I found my mind drifting to a time when I sewed all my own clothes. Now, I stick to curtains, napkins, pillows, simple things that add some extra touches to my home and some buoyancy to my spirit, but don't take a whole lot of time to produce. Although sewing is one of those old-fashioned skills, sort of like playing the piano if you are not a professional musician, which I also do, I'm glad to have some practical skills with which to surprise people now and again. Both the sewing and the piano playing taught me some life lessons, but it is the skill of sewing that taught me the whole process of creating an envisioned project and the steps needed to take to feel the joyous satisfaction of successful completion.
Creating a new dress or top started with seeing a great style on someone else - a classmate, a television star or a model in the Sears catalogue - that looked fantastic. Sometimes the item was on the third floor of the downtown department store. "Off the rack" meant my parents usually couldn't afford it and it wouldn't fit anyway. In those days, small-town stores only carried sizes in the range they could sell, so those simple realities sent me to the basement of said downtown store to see if the pattern companies, Butterick, Simplicity or McCalls, had kept up with the times closely enough to help me out. If they had, then there were choices to make for fabric and any additional materials I would need, like buttons, zippers and thread, and braid or ribbon trims.
Back home with the goods, the project began in full force. Reading the instructions, laying out the fabric, pinning the pattern and cutting out the pieces then led to marking button holes, gathering points and hem lengths. After all the preparation was completed, the pattern pieces could be removed and the construction process begun. The sewing machine came out, the instructions were pulled back out of the package, and step-by-step, what was once only a dream transformed to a hope, and finally embodied the promise of something special, something I could claim as my own creation and wear whenever I wanted to.
Of course this entire scenario is dependent upon following the instructions and working with the pattern as your experience grows. Experience, of course, is usually born of trial and error, and of a firm teenage belief that you have a short cut that will save time and allow you to wear your new garment that much faster. Measure twice, cut once applies here too, as does think before you act.
Which brings me back to cleaning, organizing, paying bills, sorting clothing and arranging for cat care as I continue to prepare for my trip. As I follow my routine and manage the larger routine of the rest of this thing called my life, I sometimes wonder how to keep everything on track, and how I've managed to do so to this point. It feels very easy to get distracted by old patterns that no longer fit or were missing pieces that had to be adjusted for along the way. Sometimes it feels right to go back to my old friends in the pattern department, the Buttericks, the Simplicitys and the McCalls and just say hi, and see if there are some new patterns that might be a better fit for me now. The fabric section also speaks its mind, inviting me over with rich colors and textures.
What continues to delight and charm me, in this whole sense of life as a creatively abundant process, is God's consistency in helping us work with our own plans and God's plan with all of us together. "I know that you can do all things; no plan of yours can be thwarted (Job 42:2)," comes at the end of all of Job's miseries. This is a man who had to rework the pattern over and over, and struggled with how to make the falling-apart pieces of his life make sense with his faith in God who he believed loved him and had blessed his life in every way possible. Step-by-step, Job did find his way along, completing his projects and moving on to the next as he and God decided.
In his book, The Last Unicorn, Peter S. Beagle also speaks to this sense of order and timing in our lives, using his character, the Prince, to express the yearnings of many of our souls to get our lives right and find our way to a happy ending.
"My Lady," he said, "I am a hero. It is a trade, like weaving or brewing, and like them it has its own tricks and knacks and small arts. There are ways of perceiving witches and knowing poison streams. There are certain weak spots that all dragons have and certain riddles that hooded strangers tend to set you. But the true secret of being a hero lies in knowing the order of things. The swineherd cannot be wed to the princess before he embarks on his adventures. Nor can the boy knock on the witch's door while she is away on vacation. The wicked uncle cannot be found out and foiled before he does something wicked. Things must happen when it is time for them to happen. Quests may not simply be abandoned. Prophecies may not be left to rot like unpicked fruit. Unicorns may go unrescued for a long time, but not forever. The happy ending cannot come in the middle of the story (p. 212.)"
God has a way of reminding us that there is often more to come before the plan is successfully complete.
God's blessings, Cory
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In This Moment
God Only Knows
While preparing dinner the other evening, I paused to flip through the television channels and came to rest at an old Everybody Loves Raymond episode. Ray's sister-in-law, Amy, had stopped by to visit his wife, Debra, who was not at home. Amy seized the moment, as well as Ray's moment with the basketball game on television, and shared her day in more detail than Ray was ready to absorb. Soon enough, Amy discovers her brother-in-law's discontent with their visit. Confronting him with the observation that he thinks she talks too much, she figures it's because he has nothing interesting to say at all. Period. Her words are designed to wound, which they do, but then Amy and Ray come to the heart of the matter. Amy loves Ray's quirky family, even his loud, interfering, obnoxious parents, and she truly wants to know him better too. Ray is incredulous at the revelation, and is even more stunned that Amy is pleased her in-laws are themselves around her because it means they are comfortable with her. Amy and Ray come to a better understanding in this conversation and seem to find some common ground, and a little more closeness.
It's interesting how much our human relationships reflect our own feelings about other people, and so rarely include what the other person is feeling or thinking. What we are usually interacting with in conversation with other people is the image in our own heads of who we perceive them to be. To be confronted, positively or negatively, by who the individual really is is nothing less than a shock. How dare they step out of our imaginations into reality and expect us to deal with them as they really are!
It is equally interesting to me how we interact with God on such a minimal, acquaintance-like level, this God who created us and knows us better than we know ourselves. Like Amy trying to explain her desire to feel close to a family from which Ray would rather run away, God's efforts to be included in our lives are frequently brushed aside for so many other things, including images of God that have nothing to do with our Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer.
Going back to Amy and Ray, his original complaint with her is that she talks too much and won't leave him be in peace with his game and his beer. Getting comfortable with our own routines is very common, and very human, and Ray isn't alone in his desire to enjoy this time he has carved out for himself. But Amy is so excited about her unexpectedly good purchase, the lovely interaction with the sales associate and her whole life, that all she sees is an opportunity to include her brother-in-law in her joyful celebration of being. Who could blame her?
Considering Amy's excitement and pleasure in including Ray, I wonder how many times we have each turned a deaf ear and an irritated heart to God's delight in including us in this incredible creation all around us. If we are more focused on what usually pleases and consoles us in our routines, how much of the unusual grace of God are we missing because it is an inconvenience, a bother that we wish would go away?
When Amy and Ray sort through their relational snag it is quite clear that Ray sees no point in getting to know his own family any better, and he can't understand why anyone with a clear mind would want to either. But Amy sees things differently, understanding the value in simply getting to know people for who they are with no agenda for changing them into who she thinks they should be. She has no motive other than love. She just loves her new family, doesn't even really expect them to love back, at least not in preconceived ways. She hopes they feel comfortable with her. That is all.
While we are called to love God, ourselves and each other, God leaves it up to us to decide how and where to fit that into our lives. It isn't always convenient to care for one another. Death and illness don't coordinate their schedules with family vacations and the Super Bowl. Babies are born and kittens need rescuing when the time is at hand. Parents and grandparents don't always age gracefully and need us when they need us. Friends have seemingly unimportant life-altering information and events to share with us when we would rather be watching our favorite programs on television or soaking in bubbly, hot baths. It is often said that God's timing is perfect, but we still struggle mightily against that wisdom when we have planned and prayed and hoped against hope that what we want, whatever it is, can be ours.
Our timing isn't necessarily off, just not always in sync with God's. If we can see the wisdom of the seeming lack of synchronicity, we can begin to catch a glimpse of a God, our God, finding ways to draw us closer, to help us be more comfortable in God's own presence in our lives.
God's blessings, Cory
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In This Moment
Bonus Rounds and Treasures
Ken Jennings, a software engineer from Salt Lake City, Utah, best known as Jeopardy's winningest contestant ever, became known this week for apparently biting the hand that has fed him very, very well. Personal comments on his website this past Monday criticized both the show's format and its long-time host, Alex Trebek. About the show itself: "You're the Dorian Gray of syndication. You seem to think 'change' means replacing a blue polyethylene backdrop with a slightly different shade of blue polyethylene backdrop every presidential election or so." About Mr. Trebek: "I know, I know, the old folks love him" After the media reacted negatively to his comments, calling him ungrateful, among other things, Jennings clarified his comments, saying he meant them as a "humor piece." Mr. Jennings stated that, "For the record, I've loved Jeopardy since I was a kid, as anyone who talks to me for more than five minutes knows. Making goofy jokes about TV shows isn't bashing. I believe it's the whole reason Al Gore invented the internet."
It seems to be a good thing Mr. Jennings amassed a solid nest egg from his time spent on that retro-fitted, old-fashioned program. His sense of humor may cost him more than he has bargained for.
In another way, the story of Colonel Bruce Hollywood is also about accumulated wealth and personal perspective. Earlier this year, Col. Hollywood awoke to crushing chest pain. As the highlights of his life flashed before him, he remembered his adoptive mother, who had already passed on, urging him to find his Japanese mother. And so, with some help from Ryoso Kato, the Japanese Ambassador to the United States, he did. USAToday.com reported that, "According to Hollywood and his mother, Nobue Ouchi, who was interviewed through an interpreter, their story is about a dream fulfilled and a rich life made richer."
Ms. Ouchi always knew she would see her son again. They met when Hollywood went to Japan in April, and she is visiting him this week. Col. Hollywood had enjoyed what he called a "charmed life." He was raised in a loving family, married and raised two children of his own, and thoroughly enjoyed his career. He reflected that, "At that moment when I looked back at my life, I really thought that in the game of life, I won. This whole new world opened up to me, and it's like I get to play a bonus round." His mother's dream came true, and his heart grew fuller.
Considering the stories of these two men, I am more sure than ever that money and publicity do not do anything more than highlight who we already are. I do not know Ken Jennings or Bruce Hollywood personally. But I do know who I would want to invite to my home for dinner and conversation.
My understanding of Jesus' reflections concerning treasures is also a little clearer now. "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also (Matthew 6:19-21)."
My Aunt Joanne used to quote this scripture during a key transition point in her life. Facing the reality that her aging parents would need additional care, she and my Uncle Bert decided to sell their much-loved home in Oak Lawn, a suburb of Chicago, and build a home in Orland Park, another Chicago suburb, that had room for the type of house they wanted to create that would accommodate everyone's needs. While they recognized the new subdivision as a place with larger lots and good floor plans, the marketing plan touted the affluence and prestige of the area. My poor aunt, trying to do right by her family, didn't want her motives to be misconstrued in any way, shape or form, by her friends, her family or her God. Her wealth had always been invested in her faith, and that's where she wanted to keep it.
My guess is that God doesn't particularly care how much money we accumulate over the years, but does care about how much richness we accumulate in our hearts over the course of our lifetimes. Jesus' words from Matthew's gospel aren't so much critical of those who pay attention to their finances, handling their money responsibly, as much as they are an opportunity to remember our priorities. Material wealth is a blessing born of the well-managed gifts of God's grace in our lives. If we begin to believe otherwise, somehow our hearts have shifted into believing we are running the show and have done everything in our lives on our own. Ken Jennings did achieve something extraordinary on Jeopardy, there is no denying that. But somehow the rich gifts he brought to that experience have become obscured in his attempt at humor at the expense of those who supported him in his efforts to reach his goal.
Bruce Hollywood and my Aunt Joanne seem to have gotten the balance right on this material riches versus the heart treasures that Jesus spoke of. I have no clue what my aunt's net financial worth was at the time of her death, or what Mr. Hollywood is worth on paper at this writing. But it is apparent to me who has been assisting them in amassing the great treasures in their hearts.
God's blessings, Cory
