Reflections On The Future

Remarkably, another 12 months have passed, and I find myself again being drawn backwards to that dreadful day, now three years ago, that I learned the awful news of my brother Bobby's passing from this life to the next.  

As I have reflected on this somber anniversary I am struck by the propensity we humans have to be drawn to the past in our thinking, and not just necessarily in painful experiences, but in joyful ones as well. 

Now, obviously when someone is no longer here to develop new memories and experiences, we are obligated to think retrospectively to recall them at all.  I have memories of Bobby on a daily basis and I am glad to say that the VAST majority of them are pleasant and enjoyable ones, not the negative ones such as the association with the date March 26th. 

I feel that anything I could say of substance regarding this past event has been stated in my prior "anniversary" entries and there would not be much value in re-stating them again today.  Should you wish to be reminded, I have linked to those thoughts here: 

2012

and

2013

My concern at present is our tendency to have a backward focus in life.  Particularly alarming is the tendency we have to become truly trapped in a prison of our past.  This desire to return to a time that we recall or believe was better, a time when someone we loved was still here, or maybe a time when we achieved some major success or pleasure, is common to all.  

Being fettered to the past can easily make us of no good for the present, and will ultimately lead us to make no real provision for the future, which is, in the most ultimate sense, all we really have left as individuals.   Our reliance on the past can become utterly defining of who we are, and almost never in a good way.

At its core, I believe this truly represents a lack of faith.  A lack of faith in what God has promised, and provided for the future of those who love him and are called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).  

Pastor Ford (Alton Bible Church) spoke this past Sunday regarding the critical importance of how we make our "investments" in the future.  He was reflecting on the passage from Romans 5, particularly verses 14-17.  These passages show a stark difference between those who have a real future, and those who do not.  

For those who know Christ, and are submitted to him, we are to recognize that we have been brought from death to life, darkness to light, and from being one who is "guilty of trespass" to being the recipients of a glorious "free gift."

With such stark contrasts to consider, the question that is very worth asking for each of us is what are we investing our future hope in? 

A wonderful analogy that Pastor asked us to consider in this context is money.  How wise would we be to diversify our financial resources in multiple different "portfolios", all of which are assured of ultimately becoming absolutely worth NOTHING?  Should I put some money in the stock market, a bit in gold and silver, a bit more over here in real estate, maybe a bit in cash; if I knew that in 5 years they would all be worth nothing?

Investing in the momentary things of this world is a fool's errand, even if they are transiently pleasurable or satisfying things.  Friendship with the things of this world will inevitably make oneself an enemy of God (see 1 John, among others).  

In essence this is what we do when we define ourselves by our past joys or cling to our past hurts, or even by working diligently on self-improvement strategies that are defined by the self.  We are ultimately locked in this life, not in the future which we are promised through faith in God's promises.  

When we focus so intently on the things of this world, we ultimately live as if God does not exist and his promises are invalid.  If this is indeed the terrifying truth (which it isn't), or if we live as if it is truth ("my truth is whatever I want it to be"), then all that we invest in now will have absolutely no lasting future benefit, as the grave will truly the end of the line  (except for judgement, if God exists, which He does) 

Thankfully, Jesus offers us a REAL future through his death and resurrection.  It is this future that he offers to those who will submit to him as LORD of their lives.  And this future is indeed glorious and joyful, because it is not based on what is passing away.  

This also serves as the only proper way to interpret our past and present experiences, whether good or bad.  

Hebrews 12:2  

"fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God."

So I ask, is it reasonable to expend such a majority of our energy, focus, emotion, and time on things that are certain to pass away, particularly when we can have the absolute assurance of the one investment that is assured to bring us an eternally increasing return?  

Ephesians 2:1- 8

"And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience— among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.

 But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus."

The concept of future grace is foreign to most of our thinking, even amongst the long "churched."  We tend to focus (I believe correctly to an extent) on what God has done for us, on what we have been forgiven, how we ought to work toward a better world... now.  But rarely do we contemplate that His future promises are NO LESS SURE than the past and present ones.  

Along this line of thought, I highly recommend John Piper's book "Future Grace" to all, as it deals with this topic in far more depth than I could ever do justice to in this setting. 

In the context of my current reflections, however, I would say that it is ONLY this future minded view that will ever provide a way for the restoration of what we have lost.  This is the ONLY way that relationships shattered by death can continue.  This is the ONLY way we can truly obtain hope in a way that will motivate selfless action and change in our lives.  

So what is my point in all this?  Well, I believe my brother knew Christ as his savior.  I believe he will be in heaven when I get there.  I have a hope that the future holds a continuation of this relationship.  Therefore, I am not a slave to the past and shackled there with nothing to confidently look forward to as the days melt into years, and ultimately into decades.  

Believe it or not, I have MUCH more than this hope of a restored relationship.  But first I must give a word of caution, as it is critical to point out that no one who denies Christ or refuses his lordship over their lives, will similarly be in heaven for eternity.  

So, say I happen to wrong, and perhaps I tragically misread my brother's heart?  Perhaps he did ultimately reject his Saviors entreaty to come to him and therefore will ultimately be separated from me forever (a fate I pray never happens to anyone I love).  

Despite this awful possibility, I will state confidently that I have a greater hope.  That of a perfected relationship with the one who truly is the greatest lover of my soul, that I will be in heaven for eternity with Jesus Christ and he will delight to show his "immeasurable riches" in "kindness" toward me... FOREVER!   

This is a future grace that is too great to fully grasp, but one I pray you will reflect on with me, even as we all reflect on the temporariness of this life.   

What I Did On My Vacation

Kids are like little mirrors.  Not ordinary mirrors.  That would be scary enough.  

No, I'm talking magnifying mirrors--the kind that make your face look like the surface of the moon and which acquaint you with your nostrils and hair follicles in ways you wish you could forget.  

Imagine the lessons you could learn if you were to take spend, say, 23 hours (straight) in a sealed vehicle with seven such mirrors!  It would be such an education!  Like summer school!  

Or boot camp.  I speak from experience.

We just got back from a family vacation to Florida.  To make the already long trip even more of an adventure, we decided to drive straight through the night in an wind/snow/ice storm that covered two states in a truck sporting not only a large, square trailer box on our hitch (what we like to call "the mainsail"), but also a car-top carrier as big as a Prius (a.k.a "the jib").  

Our oversize luggage carriers, in addition to the general square-ishness of our Suburban allowed us to experience the wind gusts through the mountains to the fullest extent.  

This, combined with the fact that the only other travelers on the ice-covered roads seemed to be 18 wheelers of the "fast and flirty" variety, made for a truly memorable ride.  (At one point I mentioned to Jamey that if his window had been open, he could have licked the semi that was blowing past us.)

It was truly a white-knuckle ride--or it could have been in less capable hands than Jamey's.  He is an excellent driver, but it was at the very least a potentially dangerous situation.  

Interestingly, my children had a very different experience than I did. 

OK. Audience participation time! 

Q:  What did I learn from my children during the ice storm?  Choose the best answer.

a)  If you fully trust your father, you can sleep like tiny angels even when there is danger outside.

b)  When a person is actively navigating a storm, it is better to offer him soft, encouraging words and a neck rub from the back seat than to pepper him with high-pitched predictions of imminent doom from the passenger seat.

c)  Panicked pillow clutching and loud, helpful gasping are less calming than quiet singing or even heavy snoring.

  d)  All of the above.  

Bingo!  It was "d"!  Good job.  

I got it wrong on the test, but I'm going to try to remember for next time.

Lesson number two:  In Georgia, we stopped at a gas station and Jude (age 6) leaped out of his prison in the "back-back", hopped up onto the trailer box, and announced that he would be finishing the trip right there on the back of the truck.  He looped his fingers through a bungee strap, leaned up against the box in a jaunty pose, and flashed a confident smile.  "Can I?"  he asked in all seriousness.  "I want to feel the wind on my head."

As I cupped his little chin in my hand, I was reminded of how many times my heavenly Father has had to rework my grand ideas to fit a reality I didn't fully grasp.  

Over and over I come to Him with all the reasons I am tired of riding in tight places with people who breathe on me and smell like feet.  My logic seems flawless.  

I want to feel the wind on my head.  

Over and over, He gently explains how so often my idea of freedom would actually result in a face full of bugs, dry eyes, and maybe death.

How like Jude I am!

Lesson 3:  As soon as we told Keira (age 4) about our impending trip, she began demanding regular re-affirmation of the agenda.  "We going to Flo-duh?" she would ask 20 times a day.

"Yes," we would say.  "We're going to Florida."

 "OK," she would say, looking satisfied--until 30 minutes later when she would come back and ask the same thing.

This occurred in the week leading up to the trip.  

It continued as she saw us loading up the truck.  

It continued as we loaded HER into the truck.  

It continued for the entire 23 hours it took to drive to Florida.  

Two days after we arrived in Florida, even as she was standing by the pool in her swimsuit and floaties, she was still not quite believing us. 

"We going to Flo-duh?"  she asked as the water dripped off her braids.  

Ummm...yep.  We are.   And if you don't believe us yet,  I'm not sure we can help you.

Does this ring any bells in your life?  It did in mine.  Being carried along by my loving God, who has always kept His word to me, I nevertheless keep asking Him, "Are you sure?"  

"Is what you promised true?"  

"Can I trust that what you have said will come to pass?"  

"Do you know what You are doing?"

"We going to Flo-duh?"

Lesson 4:  Several days into the vacation, we walked the younger children down to a park to play for the morning.  The sun was shining. It was warm. We had no agenda.  No schedule to keep.  Bliss!

Thirty minutes in, the complaints starting trickling in.  "I'm too hot."

"I'm bored."

"I'm thirsty."

"This slide is slow."

"Why didn't they build swings here?"

"When is lunch?"

How did it not occur to them, I pondered on the swift and steely march back to the house, that their father had worked hard and sacrificed to bring them on this vacation?  That their friends were sitting at home doing schoolwork?  That it was 2 degrees where we live?   That their playground at home was buried in two feet of snow?

They were like a miniature tribe of Israel who, having been delivered from the grip of eternal winter, could only say, "Why have you brought us down from the frozen tundra to roast on this playground?  There are no granola bars!  There are no juice boxes!  And we detest this miserable rock climbing wall!"  (Paraphrase of Numbers 21:5 ) 

Ah!  How young it doth begin!  The relentless ingratitude of the human heart.  

Dear friends, do not neglect to mine the wealth of object lessons from the lives of your children.  Even as you are correcting and redirecting and instructing and trying not to laugh at them where they can see you, they are showing you stark images of yourself...

...which I think answers the question of why God leaves them with us for a full 18 years instead of for six weeks like say, baby gerbils.  

Even then, it's not long enough for most of us. 

Yet another reason to look forward to grandchildren;)

 





 



 

Instructions For Being 40

I turned 40 yesterday.  

I have always liked my big, solid, round-numbered birthdays, and generally I have tried to mark them in some meaningful way.

When I was 10, I wrote a letter to myself at 20.  It included all my likes and dislikes, my take on world events (as I understood them), a critique of  cultural trends, what I hoped I would be like at the end of the next decade, and a list of questions for my future self to answer.  I enclosed a smattering of coins, a few postage stamps, a lock of my hair, and a bookmark I had gotten on Mackinac Island. 

I lost it somewhere between high school and college, so I wrote another one (to myself at 30) when I turned 20--full of all I had learned out in the big world, as well as earnest wonderings about what married life would bring, how many children I would have, where I would live, etc.  I also included another list of deep, probing questions for my older self, and...

...I lost that one too, so for my 30th birthday I drew a circle around the event by a) getting a tetanus booster and b) taking an evening to ask myself all the deep, probing, questions I would normally write in a letter...and then lose.  

Glorious, immediate, self-evaluation!  No more waiting a decade to measure growth and deficiency.  


It worked so well that I trotted the idea out again for my 40th birthday.  For this particular self-eval, I decided to go out running.  

This brings me to yesterday.  

It was sunny and 43 degrees with very little wind.
Honestly, after a winter of clouds and negative numbers, it felt positively balmy, and so as I rounded the bend before the first big hill, out of sheer joy I did a spontaneous grand jete split jump followed by what I think was a kick-boxing move of some sort--not sure--but the whole thing took me off guard.  

I was partially blocked from the view of passing cars, so I don't think anyone saw my accidental display of joie de vivre, but it certainly started off my session with a bang (and incidentally, a pulled hamstring).  

I have always been prone to random leaping, twirling, and dancing, but somehow today it jangled.  

Something was missing, and that something was youth.

After my episode, I began to wonder if I should come up with a list of "Things That Are Unseemly, Unsightly, and Undignified for Persons of Advanced Age"--sort of a quick reference guide for the newly middle aged.

So I did.

Number one on my list: Avoid spontaneous physical outbursts of happiness or excitement which involve jumping, spinning, or high stepping in public places.

Here are a few more things I think 40 year olds should steer clear of:

2) Skipping, galloping, trotting, prancing, and mid-air scissor kicks

3) Wearing anything that reminds you of a princess  

4)  Frolicking and cavorting

5) Blue eyeshadow

6)  Pig tails

7) Shopping in the junior section of a department store (unless it is for your daughters, and even then it probably isn't a good idea)

8)  Wearing shorts

9)  Doing cartwheels

10)  Dancing (unless it is ballroom or you have had independent verification of your skills.  Ask your children.  They know.)

11)  Trying on prom dresses unless 
           a) it is for laughs
           b) you are trying to scare someone
           c) you have landed the part of Miss  Havisham or Baby Jane Hudson in your local community theater 

12)   Teeter-totters.  Swings are still OK if accompanied by the appropriate degree of gravitas.  Playground slides--maybe.  But there is simply no dignified way to teeter-totter.  

13)  Rip-sticks.  This is not so much an issue of decorum as it is safety.  When your cerebellum gets old, it develops pockets of rust and acrimony, or as the youngsters like to say, "glitches", which can upset your balance, leading to embarrassment and hip-replacements.

14) Naval and tongue piercings/nose-rings.  Question: Do I really need to mention this?   Answer: Have you been to Wal-mart lately?

15)  Jump rope.  When you notice that half your body parts are still going up when you are coming down, it is time to hang it up.  Plus, it is just too much to expect from your dear, faithful bladder.  Be kind.

16)  Hair bows.

17)Beatboxing

17)  Riding the penny pony at the entrance to Meijer.

Speaking of Meijer, I am reminded of an observation I had the other day as I fought back the temptation (yet again) to take a running start and ride my shopping cart down the cereal aisle. 

We 40 year olds are caught in a prison of respectability.  You young folks can break into spontaneous song at Applebees if you feel like it.  You can dance down the sidewalks, play tag in the clothes racks at JC Penney, and give each other piggy back rides on a whim.  The world sees you cavorting and it smiles at your spirit and marvels at your energy and beauty.  

In other words, you are still cute.

If we middle-agers cut those capers, we'd get shock and disgust.  We'd get clucking tongues and disapproving whispers.  "So homely and horrible!  Such wanton disregard for propriety and good taste!" 

We'd get shrieks of alarm and covered faces. "Oh, it burns!  Avert your eyes!"


In short, we are not cute.

But here's the good news, fellow mid-lifers!  In just forty more years, we'll be cute again!

We'll be able to run-and-ride our shopping carts down the aisles at the local Piggly Wiggly all we want.  

Why?  Because we'll be safely covered by the gentle, good-humored expectation of senility which abounds among the general public whenever they see an old person. It is one of the hidden perks of grannyhood: instant forgiveness for all things quirky and quaint.  


I can't wait!  

As an octogenarian, I plan to careen through the meat department on the back of my grocery cart as often as possible, one foot pointed delicately behind me, blue hair flying in the wind.  

I will sing show tunes to telemarketers and IRS agents who try to confuse me.

I will wander through the woods in a white dress and a bonnet every spring.


I will do the tarantella as I am waiting in the Social Security office.  

I will stomp in puddles, make snow angels, and wear rhinestones while I garden.

I may even have a T-shirt made for the occasion.  "I'm not odd...I'm addlepated!"  

The trick is knowing when you've reached that magical age, which is why I plan to continue these once-every-ten-years self-evaluations.   

Meanwhile, I may look all sedate and respectable, but that's only because I'm 40 and I don't want to scare anyone or be admitted for observation.  

Until further notice, I will put away my repertoire of awesome dance moves.  I will curb my urge to sing in elevators.  I will master my inclination to wear as many frills and bows and flounces as I can fit onto the front of a shirt.  My impish (and frankly hilarious) impulses will lie dormant for a season.

I will wait patiently, make lists, and gather materials.  Yes, just a few more decades and...BAM!  

You'll see me out on the trail in a sparkly gold  baseball cap, orange tennis shoes, and a tutu.

And whenever the spirit moves me (hips permitting), I will indulge in a joyfully unabashed grand jete;)