If possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone. Romans 12:8 NIV
Do you find yourself on edge lately? Easily irritated? Do you find yourself getting offended over relatively minor things? Do you suffer from compassion fatigue? Bouts of depression and anxiety?
Writer and counselor John Eldredge believes we all have some form of PTSD from six months of living in what he calls the “toxic atmosphere of undefined disaster”– a disaster without boundaries or rules, with no safe places or defined end point. We’ve been shut off from normal social contact, the stress-relief of sports events, concerts, church services. We can’t even see the smiles on each others’ faces. No wonder people in hot, crowded cities are exploding into senseless violence.
What is a person of faith to do? How can I spread peace and sanity in in a mad world at war?
I can begin with the simple act of minding my own business. It’s not my job to control others; I have plenty to do keeping my mouth shut and my criticisms to myself.
Then I remember what a beloved pastor friend said years ago, “No one can give me offense if I don’t take it.” I watched him live that principle in the bumping and banging of church life; it made an unforgettable impression on me. Right now, when everyone’s nerves are stretched beyond the breaking point, refusing offense is more important than ever.
And most of all, I need to forgive, as Eldredge says, “…everyone, everything.” We are all suffering—to a greater or lesser degree. Some of us are staggering under loads that would be heavy under normal circumstances. Adding them to the weight of COVID restrictions and losses makes the job overwhelming. I must remember “hurt people hurt people”—now more than ever.
What to do? Forgive, forgive, forgive yet again.
Is it easy? No! Do I feel like it? Absolutely not. I’d far sooner take the offense, snarl right back and vent my own pain. I will need forgiveness myself when I break down and backslide.
But I know my Lord calls me to live higher.
“You’re kingdom subjects,” declares Jesus in Matthew 6, (The Message), “Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Live generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.”
I’ve learned I can’t do something this difficult by mashing harder on the “try” button. I must ask for God’s help…over and over.
For without Him, I can do nothing. (John 15:5)
FATHER GOD: Life is difficult here right now; You know that. Help me to refuse offense and forgive. Seventy times seven. (Matthew 18:22) Amen.
First published in “Bozeman Daily Chronicle,” September 6, 2020.
He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. Psalms 91:4 NIV
How has my summer been so far? Strangely good. On the one hand, despite our hopes, desires and fervent prayers, the Storm goes on and on. The demons of rage, panic and fear cackle in the thunder, howl in the wind. It is hard to keep my lantern of hope and faith alight. On the other, our mountains bloom in their full summer glory. Streams burble through meadows fat with wildflowers; lakes glisten blue under sapphire skies. So far, at least, we’ve been spared the smoke of recent summers.
God has not given us an answer but a refuge.
So we flock to the mountains eagerly—fishing the streams and rivers, floating the lakes, riding and hiking the trails. We set up our campsites by the roadsides; we fill the campgrounds, our campfires crackling joyfully in the star-spangled darkness.
For years, I longed for a summer without the pressures of travel and company, with ample time to relax and enjoy this beautiful piece of the world we live in. This summer I have it.
Have there been problems? Sure there have; life on this earth is never trouble-free. The losses and limitations of age have even created some new ones, great and small. But our compassionate Father-God has given us the grace and help we’ve needed to resolve them–every single time.
I can’t explain it; I can’t justify it; I know I don’t deserve it. I just “know that I know that I know” His love and His faithfulness are real. He has proved it to me this summer, over and over and over. As the old hymn put it, “All I have needed, Thy hand hath provided/Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me.”
The mountains in their beauty are, indeed, a refuge in this summer of turmoil, but I’m finding His faithfulness to be a greater refuge yet—a shield which protects me and a rampart which lifts me above the Storm.
“Yes, we are in a dark time,” writes John Eldredge, “But God is still protecting and comforting me. I am not alone. … Not only that, God has a feast of goodness for me…he fills my life with blessing! … God will always be faithful to me.”
When you’re tempted to doubt that, look for the ways He has blessed you, the times He has provided exactly what you need at exactly the right moment. Then I think you will, like me, stand amazed.
FATHER GOD: How can I thank You? I am, indeed, humbled, and grateful. Amen.
First published in “Bozeman Daily Chronicle,” August 8, 2020.
…pray for each other so that you can live together whole and healed. The prayer of a person living right with God is something powerful to be reckoned with. James 5:16 The Message
The very first prayer I remember was for “our soldiers and sailors overseas.” I was so young I didn’t know what the words meant. I knew who soldiers and sailors were; we saw people in uniform everywhere during World War II. But what was “overseas?” And why was I praying for it?
I wasn’t much older before I knew: the victory celebrations at the end of the war; my mother hanging a daisy chain around the neck of her Winston Churchill toby jug.
Our generation grew up steeped in patriotism.
We stand on the verge of 4th of July—yet another holiday made strange by this strangest of all years. No rodeos. No fireworks. No parades. Far worse: our nation struggles to find footing in a time as threatening and divisive as the Civil War.
My heart is deeply grieved; I wonder if the land I love will even survive.
Then I remember my history.
In November 1776, five months after the signing of the Declaration of Independence, our newly-fledged nation was dying. Routed at the Battle of Brooklyn, chased out of New York City, hounded through Westchester County like the green troops they were, Washington and his ragged army fled south through New Jersey.
Writes historian David McCullough (in “1776”), “Possibly 6000 were fit for duty. Hundreds were sick and suffering from the cold. …more and more of the local citizenry were signing the British proclamation (of surrender and amnesty.) Congress had fled. Two former members of Congress…had gone over to the enemy. By all reasonable signs, the war was over and the Americans had lost.”
“These are the times,” famously wrote Thomas Paine, “that try mens’ souls.”
And yet. Somehow George Washington found the courage and determination to rally his troops on Christmas night for one last desperate attempt at the Hessian mercenaries in Trenton. They won that battle and the long war which followed, sacrificing everything to create the nation we celebrate today.
I cannot believe their struggle was in vain. I cannot believe that He Who enabled us to survive so far would let our nation die now.
I challenge us to pray for each other, so we can live together whole and healed—even those who offend us, as Jesus commanded (Matthew 5:43 ff.) Then let’s commit to pray for our nation. Daily.
And see what happens.
FATHER GOD: Your Word says our prayers are powerful. May it be so. Help us. Give us wisdom and courage for this dark hour. Amen.
First published in “Bozeman Daily Chronicle,” Sunday June 28, 2020.
And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Comforter (Counselor, Helper, Intercessor, Advocate, Strengthener, and Stand-by) that He may remain with you forever. …I will not leave you as orphans. (Jesus) John 14:16 Amplified
It’s graduation season. Once again, we are tasked with celebrating a familiar moment in a most unfamiliar time. Kudos to those creative folks who have done what they can to make this graduation as special as possible for young people whose traditional landmarks and expectations have been swept away.
I’ve made a particular point of praying for graduates since a classmate of my sons’ was killed in a tragic party years ago. I’ll never forget the sorrow of watching those teenagers attending a funeral five days before their own celebration. There will likely be a lot less of that this year.
But their situation is still full of danger.
Never, except perhaps at times of actual war, have young people had to try their new-fledged wings in such an uncertain and fearful time. We all know the storm of epidemic, economy and politics that rages around us. We all know how difficult it is to make plans, to move forward into an unpredictable future.
Yet move forward they must. And so must we.
Jesus spoke these words to his disciples on the night before His crucifixion. Unknown to these men sitting before him, their own storm of hatred, fear and persecution was about to break. The One they counted on was going to be arrested, tortured, executed.
As Pastor McDevitt reminded us last week, they were left huddled in the upper room, wondering what to do. The resurrected Jesus had appeared to them, calling them out into the world, but they had just seen how dangerous and frightening that world could be.
Like us, they cried, “What now? Where is our help?”
Today we celebrate Jesus’ answer to their desperate question: Pentecost, the coming of the Holy Spirit.
In the book of Acts, we read account after account of the same shivering, frightened people now proclaiming their faith boldly in public, even before the very people who had been instrumental in putting Jesus to death.
What made the difference? The Holy Spirit. With His presence, they went out and changed the world.
As Jesus promised them, He promised us. He is and will be with us, too. In our times of crisis, we can call on the One called “Counselor, Helper, Intercessor, Advocate, Strengthener, Standby.”
Forever is forever.
That’s one promise our graduates can count on.
DEAR HOLY SPIRIT: Protect our graduates. They are so young; the storms are so scary. Give us all your wisdom, strength and courage. Amen.
To be published in “Bozeman Daily Chronicle,” May 31, 2020.
…Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you!”…The disciples were overjoyed when they saw the Lord. John 20:19,20
Never, in my eight decades of life on this haunted, beautiful planet, have I seen a stranger one. Never, since the very first one, perhaps, has there been such opposition to our Easter joy. This virus from hell threatening death and destruction on every hand. Social distancing. Schools closed. Stores closed. Churches closed. Even a snowstorm.
Never did I imagine I’d sit in front of my computer screen on Sunday morning in my jammies with coffee cup in hand and call it “church.” I wept when the first hymn was played, wept in longing for my church family and the services we had shared. My heart wailed with the ancient Israelites as they were led into exile:
“How can I sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?” (Psalms 137:4)
I gulped down my tears, watched the service and felt my spirit lift a little.
Our celebration which followed was small, quiet, but blessed. Somehow, in a way so subtle I almost didn’t recognize it, Jesus was there. Not physically, of course, as He’d been with the first disciples, but in His spirit of joy and faith. He came through our locked doors of fear, doubt, sorrow, anger, uncertainty. For those with ears to hear, He whispered,
“Shalom, dear ones. Be at peace. Remember: I am the resurrection and the life. See? I am with you…and I have conquered the world.”
My faith took a shuddering breath and stood back on its feet.
What was I thinking? Like Christmas, Easter is something God does. It’s His thing or it means nothing at all. I don’t, I can’t “make it happen.”
For this year Easter was not about “bunnies and bonnets,” as one writer put it, but all about Jesus and His resurrection, His promise of eternal life and the peace that promise brings us–“the peace that passes understanding.” (Philippians 4:7)
“We have this hope as the anchor for the soul,” wrote the author of Hebrews, “firm and secure.” (6:19) This year, I found that anchor holds, no matter what storms rage around it.
Stasi Eldredge writes, “God…laughs at the sneers of the enemy, stares suffering in the face, and proclaims with fierce love, ‘You do not have the final word.’”
How could I have forgotten? I’ve read the last page of the Book…and God wins!
FATHER GOD: Where are the words to thank You for the gift of the resurrection? Help us cling to the promise of Easter, the hope that anchors our soul. Give us strength, give us endurance, give us faith. Amen.
To be published in “Bozeman Daily Chronicle,” April 26, 2020.
“Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.” (Jesus) Matthew 6:34 The Message
This was certainly not how I planned to spend the winter.
I figured as soon as we had enough snow, I would cut a ski track around my pasture where the dog and I could step out the front door, ski in the sunshine and fresh air every day, and cap it off by occasional basketball games, a trip to the first weekend of the NCAA tournament in March.
As expected, the snow came at the end of January; I had my track cut a week later.
I got up the next morning with a dry cough that turned wet and wracking. Sure enough, the bronchitis that haunts me every winter was back for another round, bringing pneumonia and heart complications with it this time. The bluebird sky I longed to ski under now mocked me through the narrow window of a hospital room. Simply putting on shoes over my swollen feet left me breathless and gasping. My skis stood unused by the front door as I staggered from the hospital to my doctors’ office to the lab and the pharmacy. Six weeks of my life dissolved like a snowbank in a chinook, taking my hopes and my happy little plans with them.
But there was this book, the one my church group has been reading together all year. “You’ll Get Through This” by Max Lucado deals exactly with the shock of upside down plans, the trouble you never saw coming. At first, I didn’t think I needed it, but now I did. Desperately. I read and re-read Max’ summation:
“You’ll get through this. It won’t be painless. It won’t be quick. But God will use this mess for good. In the meantime don’t be foolish or naïve. But don’t despair either. With God’s help you’ll get through this.”
Whether it’s me with a health challenge or a rapidly spreading virus that no one saw coming, we all must get through crises, sooner or later. Our job is to do what Jesus commanded: don’t panic about the future and let God help us take the problem one step at a time.
“Don’t let the crisis paralyze you,” Max writes. “Don’t let the sadness overwhelm you. Don’t let the fear intimidate you. To do nothing is the wrong thing. To do something is the right thing. And to believe is the highest thing.”
FATHER GOD: Keep us from panic. Help us to trust You and carry on. Amen
First published in “Bozeman Daily Chronicle,” March 15, 2020.