What Would You Change?

Traveling in a car with five passengers and luggage stacked to the roof gives opportunity for closeness and conversation.   We had plenty of each on our recent trip to the heartland of America.  At some point between the hills of West Virginia, the bluegrass of Kentucky, the farm lands of Indiana and the Ozark Mountains, my mother-in-law introduced this interesting question, “If you could change anything in your life what would it be?”

Reflecting back I had lots of options from which to choose.  I would have traveled more as a young adult. I would have been less judgmental and more gracious. I would have avoided some teenage mistakes. I would have been less uptight with my kids.  I would have taken more risks.

All those answers are true but on a whim I said, “I wish I had applied myself as a student in order to have been a more well-rounded and enriched person.  By avoiding advanced math, literature, languages and composition, I have had to play catch up most of my life.  It would have been nice to have had a broader perspective early on.”  I’m sure there are a few high school teachers that would love to read this confession.   

It turned out to be a fantastic conversation that took up a couple of hours of driving time.   I thought even more about it when my daughter’s books arrived for the upcoming school year.  Out of the box came: Traditional Logic, The Annotated Mona Lisa: A Crash Course in Art History from Prehistoric to Post-Modern, Animal Farm by George Orwell, Saxon Advanced Mathematics, The Gift of Music: Great Composers and Their Influence, Out of the Silent Planet by C.S. Lewis among many others.

In one of them I read, “People have presuppositions, and they will live more consistently on the basis of these presuppositions than even they themselves may realize.  By presuppositions we mean the basic way an individual looks at life, his basic worldview, the grid through which he sees the world.  Presuppositions rest upon that which a person considers to be the truth of what exists.  Peoples lay a grid for all they bring forth into the external world.  Their presuppositions also provide the basis for their values and therefore the basis for their decisions.”

Wow, if only.  What about you, if you could change anything in life what would it be?    

Art work by Christina 

Anticipation

I got an understanding of anticipation when we made the long trip to Arkansas recently.  We were driving out for our nephew’s wedding and had gotten a good start on the day when we stopped for lunch.

Diana made the comment that it would be nice to have a Starbucks coffee later, so the thought was in the back of my mind when we finally arrived in Louisville.  We decided to wait because as my sister-in-law affirmed, “Starbucks are everywhere; we can stop later.” 

If you have never traveled west beyond Louisville into Indiana, you will quickly learn there isn’t much there except rows and rows of corn, flatland and farms.  At each interchange we strained to see what restaurants were posted only to be disappointed again and again.  

On and on we drove but there were none.  After an overnight stay we headed out again.  Finally we arrived in St. Louis and drove past the Arch…still nothing.  On the west side of the city a sign finally flashed into view, “Starbucks.”  Everyone in car noisily exploded with excitement.  In one voice we cheered and celebrated.  Our long awaited anticipation was about to be rewarded.

I  also learned something about anticipation on a wilderness backpacking trip to Spruce Knob a few years ago.   The euphoria a hiker experiences when reaching the summit is heightened by the difficulty of the climb and the intensity of the anticipation.   Big or small, Mt Everest or Spruce Knob, days hiking or only hours each brings anticipation and ultimately a euphoric celebration.       

My life, too, is filled with anticipation both temporal and eternal.  The potential of experiences and activities that are about to happen bring excitement to my heart.  A few at random include: visiting my kids in new locations, finding a vocational ministry niche, having tea in England, the restoration of all things, eating my first bowl of Vietnamese Pho, reunions, a new heaven and new earth, Maria’s return from New Zealand, the coronation of the Lamb.  

An Embarrassing Moment

A few years ago our High School graduating class was preparing for a reunion.  A questionnaire was sent out so a bio could be put together for each person.  One question was, “What has been your most embarrassing moment?”  I choose to tell of the time I was riding a shopping cart down a ramp in front of our local Kroger store and ended up turning a flip in the parking lot. 

I could easily have chosen the time I made a midnight stop at the Tennessee Welcome Center and absent mindedly used the women’s restroom.  Or the evening we were meticulously cleaning a table at Taco Bell only to have a lady nearby say, “Excuse me, but your son is eating a cigarette butt out of the ashtray.” 

Now I have another one to add to the list. 

Last Thursday evening I was in a big rush to mow the lawn.  It had been a couple of weeks, and I wasn’t going to have another opportunity for a while, so I hurried into the bedroom to change before getting started.  Beginning in front by the busy street, I eventually worked my way to the shady backyard. 

Worried that I was almost out of gas I was literally running by the time I finish up.  Wearily plopping down in an Adirondack chair it was refreshing to lean my head back and catch a few deep breathes.  I looked around admiring at the freshly cut lawn and was thankful for beating an approaching storm.  Inside the house I could see Diana preparing the taco salad we were having for dinner.  Then lowering my gaze I made the frightful discovery.  I had mowed the entire lawn in my underwear.    

All the family had a hilarious laugh about it.  I did, too.

I think that vulnerability can feel a bit like this moment… and it isn’t so funny. To tell others our closet struggles, persistent failures and secret addictions can be embarrassing and frightening. It’s like being introduced to our greatest fear when it comes to spilling out our lives to others.  What hurtful things will they say?  Will I be rebuked and embarrassed?  How will it change our relationship?   

Yet, there should be no safer place to drop our guard, share our true stories and find hope than in the church.   We are after all more like a M.A.S.H. unit for continued healing in our lives than we are a fortress of saints who have reached perfection.  An embarrassing moment should collide with hope.  

The 500th Post

Josiah and I sat at a small table in a cove just to the left of the Greenbrier Café.  It was much too cold on this early spring day to be outside, but we could still peer out into the courtyard in anticipation of what was to come.  I was sipping on a cup of buttercream flavored coffee as our conversation turned from our daily lives to missions.  At the time our family was preparing for a move to Mexico, and Josiah was gently insisting that I launch a website that featured a regular blog post.  He dubbed it “Ken’s Live Journal”, and now ten years later to my surprise, I’m posting its 500^th entry. 

The first post was a dedication to the supremacy and sufficiency of Jesus Christ.  I have tried to maintain that focus through the years while being as real as possible about my own spiritual journey.  Hopefully it has shown through that Christ is the centrality of life to which all else is peripheral.  Sometimes it has been straight forward and at other times nuanced; sometimes intentional and other times unwittingly; sometimes seriously and other times light-heartedly. 

The idea is summed up in the Christ Coming into View from 2012: “Christ is our life in the best of times and in the worst of times.  In the best of times we tend to think of it in terms of joy, vibrancy, fullness and aliveness.  In the worst of times these are not diminished, but undergo a metamorphosis into hope, rest, peace and assurance.  It is two sides of the same coin, both are abundant.”    

As I read back through these posts I find myself often thinking, “I can’t believe I wrote that” – either by embarrassment or by intrigue.  It’s interesting to see how what I was so passionate about just a few years before has changed or how growth has given a distinctively different perspective.  I guess that’s one good reason for writing if nothing else.  It lets us see where we’ve been and how far we have come.  It is definitely a huge flashing neon billboard of God’s grace in our lives. 

                                 

Thanks to all of you who have endured and even found it in your good natured soul to encourage.  It means the world to me, not so much that you have read but that our relationship has grown.  You are friends of the first rate kind.  

Across My Path – Steve Bell

He crossed my path as at a point of desperation.  Our family was floundering when we heard of a bi-lingual church pastored by a Canadian.  Nearly at family mutiny we loaded up on Sunday morning to check it out.  We were the first to arrive at a rented facility full of character where a balding man wearing a brown leather jacket and a contagious smile greeted us.

At the time we were in need of a gracious place to heal from recent wounds.  Steve provided it in ways that continue to resonate in our lives.  A few months later we requested an opportunity to work with him to complete our term in Mexico.  The letter he wrote in return reflects his heart, “Your note is a pleasant surprise…God is definitely doing something that's bigger than us all and I just want to say with joy, "Welcome, welcome, welcome."  

Steve lived his early childhood years in China with missionary parents.  Gut wrenchingly he and his parents had to leave the country with his siblings interned in a Japanese prison camp along with Eric Liddell.  Eventually reunited the family returned to Canada to some of their most meaningful ministry.  Steve would tell of how people would seek out his parents, often sleeping over after a late night conversation.   In those days they welcomed 1500 people a year into their home while serving mainly raisin bread and tea.  They lived out the creativity of a sign I saw in a friend’s kitchen the other day, “Bread and water can so easily be toast and tea.” 

Without doubt those years influenced Steve who would later become a pastor and serve several congregations before arriving in Mexico after his retirement.  There his life, his stories and his insight began to take hold in many lives including my own.  Much of his ministry centered on providing an atmosphere of grace for others’ faith to grow.  He would say, “The great need of the church today is men who have grown wise with grace.” 

Tuesday mornings was our time to have breakfast rancheros together and talk.  Seldom was it church “shop talk.”  No, instead he would informally mentor me as we talked about life in China, his father’s death, the neighbors who watched his family for years from a distance before asking for help, or a book he was reading.  And he loved to tell stories.  Once he told me he wasn’t just interested in the result of what God was going to do but also the story that went along with it. 

One story involved his mother.  It was during a difficult time while she was still in China.  I’m unsure of the particular difficulty but there seemed to always be ample ones to pick from.  At one point during her struggle she was reading the Bible when she came across the scripture, “My grace is sufficient for you.”  At which point she threw her Bible against the wall and responded, “I don’t want grace, I want to go home.”  Of course she stayed, and of course she received much grace, but the point was well taken.  God continues His work in us even when our life is messed up messy. 

On a shelf in our home sets a prized wooden maple bowl that Steve turned in his lathe and penned the design on as well.  Inside is a pine cone, and on the outside the tree’s long willowy arms reach out from the trunk. He gave it to me as a gift before we left Mexico with an explanation.  “This bowl is an illustration of what I want to do in my life.   If you look closely you can see a crack running up the trunk of the tree that I have incorporated into the design.  What I want to do is help those who have been wounded to discover God’s healing handiwork in their lives.”

I am thankful you crossed my path Steve.