All Of Our Learning...

As I was reading my daily Bible reading today (no, I don’t always do it daily), I noticed something that sort of stood out.  I was reading in Mark where Jesus was in a crowd, and was “casting out demons,” as Mark says.  The narrative also says that the demons at once would recognize Jesus, and often would say something to the effect of, “You are the Son of God!” before being cast out.

Whatever you think of demon possession is not at issue at this point.  These people had some kind of obvious medical/psychiatric/demonic issue that precipitated behavior such that the people of the day believed they were demon-possessed.  Personally, I believe they WERE demon-possessed, and have already written in a prior blog why I think so (although I can’t find that blog…I may have to re-write it).

In any event, it seems telling to me that the demons that were inhabiting these people immediately knew who Jesus was; the Pharisees and learned Jewish scholars of the day seemed to have a blind eye toward him.  As it was then, so it is still today.  Much of humanity seems to have a blind spot when it comes to recognizing Jesus as the Son of God.

How is it that the arch-enemy of the Ultimate Good immediately recognized him when it sees him, but we humans seem to forever be arguing, fussing, back-stepping, and falling all over ourselves to find a reason to dispel the truth of Jesus’ identity?  Do we think the demons, whatever they were, were in error?  Do we not believe what is written by more than one person, confirmed by the best possible evidence as authentic, and preserved for two thousand years?  What’s the deal here?

I would hope that all of our learning and education is not blinding us to the reality that is God Incarnate.  I would hope that we could look past our faulty logic and reasoning to the Truth that is Jesus.  I would hope that we would find the ultimate Life in the person of Jesus Christ.  And I would hope that we would understand that the Way is the One and Only Messiah of God.

A Few Things to Change

July has been a busy month.  A trip to the Black Hills, the Independence Day celebration, family reunion in Illinois, and of course the normal work around the house and as a vocation.  These are all things that keep one busy, if not young.

It’s hard to believe we’re on the downhill slide of the year 2014.  It’s even harder to believe that I will soon be a Medicare beneficiary.  And once that happens, it’s permanent…no going back…no winding the clock the opposite way.

I can sort of understand it when older folks are reluctant to make the trip to assisted living, or even independent living.  And having to go from one’s home to long term care (a nursing home) is even more of a traumatic thing.  Because once they go, there’ s no going back.  Once the downsizing begins, it seems to gather steam until that final downsizing when the truth of Scripture is manifested:  “For we have brought nothing into this world, so we cannot take anything out of it, either.  (I Timothy 6:7)

There is an old joke that sometimes goes around about folks entering into the front door of a nursing facility or living facility, and exiting out the back door…in a hearse.  It takes someone with a certain combination of resignation, satisfaction in life lived, and peace with God to make that transition in a dignified and respected way.  It takes someone who believes he or she still has value and is still valued to live his remainder of days with dignity and grace.

And that valuing of a life…that dignity that is human life…comes not only from within, but also from without.  For how a person is treated by others is key to one’s own thought process regarding his or her value as a human being.

Those of us who are younger should beware of our propensity to dismiss the elderly or to marginalize them to the fringes of society and family.  Simply by virtue of length of years, these people deserve a certain amount of respect and deference.  Pandering to or condescending to the elderly is NOT imputing value and dignity.  Listening…really listening…is one of the keys to truly valuing them as persons.  Seeing to needs, being available, and demonstrating genuine concern and care are also vital in any relationship.

Those of us who are younger will soon enough be among those of us who are older.  Have we burned bridges during our younger days?  Have we ended relationships through crass and boorish behavior or outright hostility toward someone we would later wish we had within our circle of friends and relatives?  Or will we face the remainder of our days alone and lonely, wishing desperately for some genuine interaction and concern?

Leviticus 19:32 tells one of the old law’s principles for living.  It’s pertinent today as well, because the verse gives us an understanding of how God sees the aged.  And since God never changes, He still regards the honoring of the aged as good.  "Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and honour the face of the old man, and fear thy God: I am the Lord."  Job 12:12 talks of wisdom and understanding in the elderly.  He says in one of his discourses, "With the ancient is wisdom; and in length of days understanding."

We are admonished in other passages to give honor to our father and mother, and to seek wisdom and understanding from the elderly.  We are told that the aged can indeed minister to God in fruitful ways, and are given examples of Godly men and women who have done so (Caleb and Anna among others).\

So, regardless of your age, as you see the days and years hurtling past, give good assessment to your thoughts and opinions regarding the aging and the aged.  Think about how you would like to be treated when you are 90 years old.  You might just find you have a few things to change.

Imperceptible Change

Many have talked about the changing roles that the advance of time causes to happen to people and relationships.  Erma Bombeck talked about the time she realized that she, the daughter, was actually becoming the mother (care-giver), and her mother was becoming the daughter (given care).  James Dobson has also talked about it, as well as many others.

And I am now seeing just the beginnings of that happening with us.  As of yet, there is nothing that just screams out the fact of the reversal of roles, but it is there nevertheless.  The subtle changing and passing on of roles in both traditional rituals as well as new ventures.  The quiet shift of responsibility from being the anchor in life and living to being one of the on-lookers.  The casual, almost unnoticeable change in conversation, thought process, and outlook.  Hardly noticeable, but surely the beginnings of the passing of the torch, the handing off of the baton, or whatever other phrase one might want to use in a situation like this.

And that hardly noticeable change will soon enough become apparent to all, and we will all make adjustments physically, mentally, and emotionally, as the ravages of time and the fallen creation take their toll on this life.  We will sometimes enjoy not having to have the responsibility.  But sometimes, we will curse the sin that causes it all to come upon us and hurtles down upon what is left of our life on earth.

Little things.  Small things.

The last few times our older son has been down and we’ve had a fire in the fire pit out back, he was the one who got the wood, started the fire, and tended it.  That had always been my job.  And I don't mind him doing it for me.

This year, I didn’t buy any fireworks.  I let the boys do the buying.  And I helped them blow them up.  But they were in charge.

I no longer pay for everyone for meals out.  Nice change, but a noticeable shift in responsibility.

When I am working with my boys on something that is physically demanding, they are much more apt to ask if I am OK or if they can help.  They are much more willing to step in and carry the physical load or be the one who walks backwards up the steps carrying some furniture.

I no longer crawl under sinks and houses like I used to do.  Other, younger people can do it much easier, and are more willing for me to tell them what needs to be done.

And my sons sometimes remind me of things I ought to have remembered, but they don’t make light of it so often like they used to do.

And I don’t know this for sure, but suspect that they “check up” on us from time to time just to “be sure.”

Subtle, barely noticeable changes in the routine.  Quiet shifts in responsibility.  Almost imperceptible departures from what has always been.

It’s already begun.  And I hope I’m ready for it.

Enjoy Your Time

June 22.  We’re having a typical Kansas thunderstorm right now (shortly after 9pm).  As I often do, I opened the garage door and looked out at the storm as it came in and blew rain down (or is it up) the street in front of our house.  Lightning from time to time, thunder following the lightning, and wind along with moderate to sometimes rather heavy rainfall.  There’s nothing really unusual about events such as this, unless one is in a drought, which technically we are, but we’ve had a lot of rain the past couple of weeks.

I had to wonder as I stood in the doorway why it was that I enjoyed looking at such things as rain and wind.  Why is it that I like to get as close to the door as I can without getting too wet?  Why is it that I think about things such as where the water originated (Gulf of Mexico, they say), or how much energy it takes to evaporate a gallon of water out of the Gulf, or why the neighbor chooses to go out to his dumpster five minutes after it starts raining, hiding under an umbrella, or why the other neighbor had to dress up and go out to roll up windows on his car in the drive in the rain instead of doing it before.

I don’t know why I think of such things.  Nor do I know why I seem to be so fascinated by the number of gallons that fall in an inch of rain over a 200 square mile area, or by how much energy is released as the drops condense in the atmosphere.  It must have something to do with the way brains are wired, or perhaps it may have something to do with environment or with how I was raised.  Maybe it has something to do with how I related to my mother, or what I think of guilt.  It could be that someone could interpret my responses to ink blots or assess the results of a psychological test to tell me why.

Or, it could be that I just enjoy watching weather events.  It could just be that I feel a closeness to the creation and the Creator when things like this happen.  It could be that I recognize that there is a Caretaker of all that I see and know, and all that I can’t see and don’t know.  It could be that it is a time of reflection, repose, and worship for me.  Maybe I get closer to God in times like this than at other times, and recognize His authority and love in a way that I cannot do in many other venues.

What is it that makes you feel close to God?  Where do you meet God?  When do you consider Him in His glory?  Is it at times like this?  Or is it some other time?  You may hate thunderstorms and weather, but love to read inspirational things.  You may like to be with others and relate to others, thereby becoming closer to God.  You might enjoy a time of quiet and meditation alone.  Or there may be some other way you reach God.

Whatever it is, do it regularly.  And often.  And enjoy your time with your Maker.

Close To You

Yesterday, I found “Close To You — Remembering The Carpenters” on YouTube.  For those of you of the younger generation who may not know, The Carpenters were a brother/sister group primarily in the 1970’s that had a unique voice and style.  They were not the normal rock band.  Rather, they sang songs that were easy to understand, easy to listen to, and resonated with multitudes of people across all boundaries of humanity.

The lead singer, Karen Carpenter, had an alto voice that is one of the most pure, melodious, and mellow of anyone I have ever in my life heard.  The song arrangements, done in large part by brother Richard, who also sang with Karen, are unique and immediately identifiable.

Listening to the songs again immediately transports me back to the 1970’s and a time long gone.  Listening to the songs again create in me a feeling of immense gratitude that I was part of their listening populace.  And listening to the songs again instills in me an almost constant sense of sadness and loss…that lump in my throat that just won’t go away because of a life and a talent taken at such an early age by such a demonic illness as anorexia.

Back in that day, we didn’t know, or want to know, much about anorexia.  The prevailing feeling was to tell them to just stop not eating.  To stop throwing up.  To be normal again.  We couldn’t understand the emotional and psychological things that were happening to create the physical manifestation of starving oneself intentionally.  We still don’t know that much about the illness, and it’s related maladies.  We’re doing better, but have a long way to go.

Karen Carpenter is one of just a chosen few who, it seemed, could sing just as easily and effortlessly as she talked.  Diana Ross was another.  Patsy Cline, Cass Elliott, and Billie Holiday were some others in that elite group.  Effortless.  Flawless.  Perfection.

There were female singers such as Aretha Franklin, Bette Midler, and Kate Smith who sang wonderfully.  But listening to them, you got the feeling that they were working…they were expending effort in their songs.  That’s not a bad thing, but there’s something about listening to someone sing who appears to be doing so with the greatest of ease, breathing out melodies and harmonies as easily as one would say, “Good night,” that is just…well…different.

If you have a chance, go to YouTube and watch the video.  It’s at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IvALCAHMEVk and has no commercials attached to it.  It’s produced by PBS.

One Shot

The prose that follows is attributed to Mother Theresa.  Whether that is true or not is anyone’s guess.  However, wherever it came from, I thought it appropriate to post for your consideration.

All too often we humans become so wrapped up in our own egos, our own desires, our own motives, that we forget that we are on a cosmic trip (so to speak) toward eternity, and we are just passing through this time we call life.

In my view, and I find my support in the Bible, we only go around once in life.  We aren’t given a second chance.  We don’t re-enter someone’s womb and live life all over again.  We get one shot at it, and we get one shot at doing it right.

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered.

FORGIVE THEM ANYWAY.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish motives.

BE KIND ANYWAY.

If you are successful, you will win some false friends and some true enemies.

SUCCEED ANYWAY.

If you are honest and sincere, people may deceive you.

BE HONEST AND SINCERE ANYWAY.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight.

BUILD ANYWAY.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous.

BE HAPPY ANYWAY.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow.

DO GOOD ANYWAY.

Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough.

GIVE THEM YOUR BEST ANYWAY.

In the final analysis, it is between you and God.

IT NEVER WAS BETWEEN YOU AND THEM ANYWAY.

Some Creative Artistry

One of my Facebook friends (and friend in real life) is a photographer who likes to shoot, among other things, birds.  Yesterday, he posted a picture on line and asked for help in identification.  We since have identified it as a female painted bunting. 

She is bright green all over, but more pale on the underneath side.  She is very different from the male of the species, which is one of the most colorful birds I know.

Painted buntings are in our neck of the woods for a relatively short time.  Additionally, we are on kind of the fringe of their habitat, so they aren’t nearly as common as cardinals, robins, or other species we know so well.

God must have gone overboard in creating the male of this species.  He is red, blue, yellow, green, and other colors I can’t even describe.  He would be an unmistakable bird to see in the wild. 

I have to wonder how evolution accounts for the brilliant colors of the male.  I know how I account for them.

Seeing a male painted bunting in the wild is on my bucket list, and has been ever since my parents gave me a plastic model of the painted bunting years ago (about 55, to be more exact).  I put the model together and painted it per the instructions.  I thought the instructions were wrong and exaggerated the bird.  I could hardly believe that something so colorful was actually in nature.  Yet it is indeed true.

Don (my friend) was able to photograph the female.  Now he’s on the lookout for the male.  I hope he finds him, and I hope he is able to take his mug shot.  ‘Twould be quite a feather (ahem) in his cap to do so.