Look at the Calendar

Every year, either in late December or very early January, I open EXCEL and call up my calendar template.  It’s one that I downloaded years ago that will create a 12 month calendar on a single sheet of paper for any year.  For example, I know that July 4, 1776 was on a Saturday.  One used to be able to determine particular days of the week by use of a perpetual calendar that consisted of tables where you would look up a certain date on a table to find the day of the week.  Now, all you have to do is enter the year and the spreadsheet automatically calculates an entire year calendar in about 1 gillionth of a second.

I’ve been creating these calendars, in one form or another, to hang up at my home office (and sometimes at my work office) for about as many years as I’ve had EXCEL (20 or more).  I’ve known how to work spreadsheets since before that, and learned on the old “SMART” system of word processing, spreadsheet, and database.  That system is, I think, still available, by the way.

Oh, back to the calendar!  Just as I have for many years, when January 1 rolled around this year, I created yet another calendar and taped it to the storage area above my home desk.  I didn’t think much of it then, but as I sit here now looking at it, I am reminded of times long ago when I wondered what the year 2000 would be like, and couldn’t fathom the year 2016.  I was just a boy then back in the ‘50s and early ‘60s, and dreams of futuristic space travel, time travel, personal aircraft, and meals in a pill were all the rage.

As I look back on those years, and compare what I was thinking might be with how it really is, I see that some things came true, some are nowhere to be found, and other things exist now that weren’t even conceived of back then.  Some things have stayed relatively constant over the years.  Other things have taken quantum leaps in technology.

I look at the calendar for 2016 and can hardly believe that I am really here.  It seems so far removed from 1958,, yet there is something there that ties the two together in a way that is indescribable.  For that matter, the year 2000 seems to be far, far away.

I know that I have at most about 18 to 20 years left, assuming good health and lack of stupid accidents.  I don’t yet know if I’ll have dementia or not.  I don’t yet know if I’ll have a heart attack or not.  Shoot, I don’t yet know if I’ll survive this day or not!

We live in so much uncertainty regarding the future that it’s a wonder that we can function at all.  We think we know what we’re going to do today and how we’re going to be able to retire tomorrow, and when we will see our grandkids next, but do we really know that stuff?  Or are we just making plans, hoping for the best?  Just as I couldn’t fathom the year 2016 back in 1958, even so I can not fathom what the next hours or days will bring.  At some point, I must rely on something bigger than I am to keep me on an even keel and not go nuts with worry, questions, and doubt.  At some point, I must find something solid I can hang my hat upon, and trust it to carry me through what I don’t know and can’t know.

I know that something should be the God of heaven and earth.  But is it?  Is it really?  Do I really put my trust and faith in Him, or do I put it in medications to control blood pressure, the fact that I was able to get out of bed this morning and carry out my usual routine, annual doctor visits, my inability to see day-to-day changes in the mirror, and an attitude of benign denial that time is moving ever so quickly to the end of that 18 to 20 years?  Where do I really put my trust as I look again at the 2016 calendar hanging on my desk?

No Surpirse

In reading a book written by Darryl Tippens today (“Pilgrim Heart…The Way of Jesus in Everyday Life”), I was drawn to the old hymn written by John Greenleaf Whittier in the later 1800’s.  It’s always been a favorite of mine.  I’ll give you the two verses that are most pertinent to my blog today.

Dear Lord and Father of mankind, forgive our foolish ways;
reclothe us in our rightful mind, in purer lives thy service find,
in deeper reverence, praise.

Drop thy still dews of quietness, till all our strivings cease;
take from our souls the strain and stress, and let our ordered lives confess
the beauty of thy peace.

Tippens was talking in the chapter I read about the Sabbath rest and how much it is needed even in our modern culture.  No, he’s not talking about some rigid following of rules regarding how far we can walk or whether we can bake bread or not.  He’s not even talking about Sunday as opposed to other days of the week.

He’s saying that we all need to take a break…to slow down…to contemplate, pray, meditate, and think.  Whether we do that in 10 minute increments during a busy day, or whether we take an entire day or afternoon, we need the rest and refreshment that comes from a Sabbath.

Most of us are defined by our work and by how productive we are at our work.  When we are introduced to someone for the first time, following their name we usually want to know their occupation or former occupation (if retired).  And if you’ve been out of work for any time at all, you know that you feel a little disjointed when meeting someone because you have no occupation to give.

We also are defined by our productivity.  Perhaps you were responsible for the building of a hospital, or you constructed something of importance.  Maybe you created a non-profit organization or you developed a working method of service to others.  You might be someone who has written a popular piece of music or you’ve been part of a renowned choir or orchestra.  Perhaps you have taught hundreds of 4^th grade students and have seen many of them go on to be a great success in life.  You may have developed a new procedure in heart surgery or created a new mode of transportation.  Whatever, the list is endless, and we are all defined by what we do and what we’ve done in life.

“But”, says Whittier, “Forgive our foolish ways.  Reclothe us in our rightful minds.  Take from our souls the strain and stress.  Let our ordered lives confess the beauty of Thy peace.”

How incredibly awesome are these words!  I can feel the stress melting away just repeating these lines in my head…and I love to sing them aloud!  I’m beginning to know the beauty of the peace of God in letting up, letting go, and quieting down.  I’m finding times and ways to have a Sabbath during the days and during the evenings.  And I am becoming more calm and serene as a result.  Things that seem to delay me in life don’t seem to bother me as much as before.  People that get in the way don’t seem to evoke the kind of emotions that used to come over me.

I have a long way to go.  I still treat driving in traffic as a game of “Who can be first?” more often than I would like.  I still get perturbed in the checkout line when the lady gets out her checkbook (yes they still have those things) and begins writing AFTER all has been checked.  And I still consider myself defined by my vocation and not by who I am and by Whose I am.  As I said, I have a long way to go.

But with time and the grace of God, I will get there.  There will come a time when I will have no choice but to be quiet, to wait, and to slow down.  I don’t want that to come as a shock and surprise.

The Most Remarkable of Ways

I just finished reading a book by Laura Lapins Willis called “Finding God in a Bag of Groceries.”  The book, recently written, is a collection of short stories which tell of experiences that Ms. Willis had while the director of a food pantry in rural Tennessee.  More than what we might think of in an urban setting, this pantry was a central point in the lives of many of those who lived in the rural Appalachian community.  In addition to food help, the pantry helped with things such as rent, utilities, fuel, and other necessities of life.

During her ten year tenure there, Ms. Willis became a friend, confidant, spiritual guide, and virtual family member to many in the community.  She truly rejoiced with those who rejoice and wept with those who weep.  And during her tenure there, she learned that God shows up in some of the most unexpected places, providing the comfort, peace, and love that is so desperately needed by us all.

Her closing comments in the book are telling.  “There are many stories I didn’t write about, stories without endings and stories that are too complicated to explain.  Isn’t that the way life often is?  Without and ending, complicated, and hard to explain.

But when we listen, through silence and through service, God puts the next step in front of us.  We don’t have to figure out the future.  We don’t’ have to fix anyone’s life, even our own.

Instead, we will pray, listen, give, and receive with beloved hands.  We will look for God in the simple and the surprising and remember that God will come to us, too, in the most remarkable ways.  Even in a bag of groceries.”

Ms. Willis has figured out something that most of us, even us Christians, have yet to discern; that our normal way of living…planning, scheming, doing, finagling, and agonizing…we don’t have to live that way.  We don’t have to have our lives planned out to the nth degree.  We don’t have to see what lies ahead.  We don’t even have to try to fix our own selves (as if we could do that anyway).

We do need to wait on God.  We do need to listen.  We do need to pray.  We do need to be open to the voice of God (in whatever form) as He shepherds, nudges, guides, cajoles, and loves us toward the Eternity He has prepared for us.  And we do need to know that He comes to us, indeed, in some of the most remarkable of ways.