I recently had the joy of keeping my namesake grandson while his parents were away. We really enjoy being together, but this visit was especially memorable because I determined he was old enough to undergo a special rite of passage that is somewhat unique to our family. Heralding back to my years in Africa, I own a set of authentic tribal spears, and it’s a big deal to my grandchildren to get to go on a spear hunt with Papa. When it is determined that the child can safely carry one of the spears, we set off through the woods for an epic safari that generally lasts no more than thirty minutes. At one point, Joshua Dane said, “Papa, I want to be just like you when I grow up.” You can imagine how rapidly my heart swelled, but just as quickly I was struck by the immense responsibility of perpetually setting the right example before him.
To get right down to the heart of the matter, when Jesus says “You are the light of the world” and “You are the salt of the earth,” the most important part of speech is the linking verb “are.” Influence comes less from knowledge, and far more from ‘being; character and integrity trump all else. The older I become, the more I realize that it’s not what I know that matters most but who I am that will change the world.
Whales and Living
If you’ve never viewed “The Whales of August,” consider yourself fortunate. I recorded it from the Turner Classic Movie channel because it starred Bette Davis and Lillian Gish, and my wife and I settled in on Saturday afternoon to watch what we assumed to be a classic. The film is from 1986 when Gish was age 91 and Davis 79. The aged stars play elderly sisters in Maine coming to grips with each other in the shadow of impending death. Their portrayal reeked of despair, leaving my wife and I depressed and asking each other and ourselves if our own end could possibly resemble theirs–a horrifying thought. I assured my wife that our final days will be far different because we are surrounded by a loving and supportive family, and because of the hope we have that this life matters now, not merely as a meaningless prelude to a far grander eternity.
The secret seems to be embracing every moment we’re given as though it may never repeat, finding grace at every turn. Buechner’s Godric declares, “He also said we should carve in the year and place where I was born, but I said no. As a man dies many times before he’s dead, so does he wend from birth to birth until, by grace, he comes alive at last.” The trick is to come alive long before we go. I saw a t-shirt recently while on vacation in Savanna that had imprinted in front a quote from Martin Kuther King, Jr.: “If a man has not discovered something that he will die for, he isn’t fit to live.” Although I certainly don’t disagree, it is equally true that no one is prepared to die who isn’t fully alive. According to Jesus, this is the crux of the matter: “I have come that they may have life, and live it to the full” (John 10:10).
Believe Tenaciously, Love Indiscriminantly
I shared the following this morning at the request of a close friend who wanted my thoughts on how best to respond to the gay marriage issue in a practical vein. I offer them with hope that they may prove helpful to others:
The challenge in confronting any contemporary issue is that such is always tied to culture that by definition is confined to a commonly held set of beliefs and practices. Culture is always transitory and subjective. Take flag flying for example. In American culture at this moment displaying a rainbow flag is expressing freedom of speech while the same culture clamors against raising a historic symbol of the Confederate States of America from the 1860’s. What I’m getting at is the need for Christ-followers to look to that which is above culture, not for the purpose of taking a stand, but rather to have a confident standard against which to consider every momentary and subjective cultural voice. These steps are always in order when addressing cultural muddle:
– Examine Scripture critically (the Bible can never mean today what it didn’t mean when written), and determine the best biblical response to the issue/practice.
– Explore the cultural issue with an open mind so that personal preference does not cloud biblical principle.
– Listen with compassion to persons directly affected.
– As God grants opportunity, articulate biblical perspective as a matter of compassion rather than debate.
– Love the individual without condoning aberrant practices or conceding biblical values.
– Be known more by what you favor than by what you oppose.
Hopefully, Christians will respond to this and any other cultural quandary in a manner brings light to a darkened culture and, in so doing, rightly reflects the Lord Jesus Christ who offers salvation and abundant life indiscriminately.
Grace and Conviction
The challenge is always to balance grace and conviction. Fortunately, the two are not incompatible. “Honor and majesty are before him; strength and beauty are in his sanctuary” (Psalm 96:6). Refuse the lie that claims you cannot stand for truth while loving those who are living a lie. Conviction and values actually fuel greater compassion; brokenness increases in direct proportion to our awareness of how far we all are from holy God. Smug self-righteousness is not the necessary corollary to certainty. Any Christian knows by experience that Christ opposes the proud, but grants grace to the humble. As Scripture directs, “Having done all to stand, stand (Ephesians 6:13-14), but offer a loving hand to those who have yet to find their feet.
When Grace Fades to Gray
I am saddened by many things today, but think what concerns most is the condemnation by some believers of those who oppose the Supreme Court’s ruling. I have come to expect such diatribes from those opposed to the Cross, but am chagrined at those who claim to know better who claim any stance on biblical morality as closed minded, narrow, or inequitable. These intimate that Jesus was misguided when stating that his Way is narrow. Make no mistake about it–Grace never diminishes sin; whispers whenever possible and shouts if need be that we need not remain in sin nor be defined by it. When grace fades into any shade of gray, the light is indistinguishable from the night.
Hope has an Address
I don’t make it by my favorite coffee shop as often as I’d like, but that adds to the anticipation and appreciation of the moments when I do. I entered the first time because it was new and only two blocks from where my wife works downtown. I return in part because they serve the best cup of fresh ground coffee in town against the backdrop of great jazz, but primarily because I find myself here. The floors are old–black and white honeycomb pattern–a nostalgic companion for the more contemporary brick, wood, and metal accoutrements that are well suited for a downtown coffee Mecca. I come here to reward myself for nothing in particular, a book tucked under one arm and cell phone at the ready. The place is called ‘Dichotomy’ because they serve coffee all day and spirits at night. I find my own dichotomy here–a place to work while relaxing, space to read and think while putting my mind in neutral. I imagine what it must have been like for writers to gather in their favorite haunt for debate and creative inspiration. C. S. Lewis and the other Inklings met Tuesdays at midday at a local pub called “The Eagle and Child,” best known in the Oxford community as “The Bird and Baby,” or simply “The Bird.” When Hemingway stayed in Venice during the winter of 1949-1950, he spent much of his time at Harry’s Bar, where he had a table of his own and often drank with the owner himself.
Please don’t misunderstand, I’m not comparing myself to those of literary or historical weight, merely suggesting that we rightly attach meaning to physical locations. It was so from the beginning. Adam and Eve grieved over their exile from The Garden because it was home and because the Creator had walked with them there. After losing his wrestling match with an angel, Jacob was the first to designate a spot as the “house of God and gate of heaven.” Moses piled up rocks to add weight to memories. David went often to his own “house” of God, while longing to erect a sturdy temple to replace the transient tent of meeting. Jesus had Gethsemane and wilderness places in which to retreat, recharge, and, finally, steel his resolve. The apostles returned to the upper room to remember who they were until the Holy Spirit could make them what they were destined to be.
Everyone needs a place where she or he finds room to dig deeper into themselves, a solitary or perhaps communal context for honest remembering and courageous planning. We face and conquer our fear in sacred spaces. Call it a reference point; hope has an address.
Passion Over Performance
I picked up the game in earnest later in life than I would have if I could start over knowing what I do now. In that way, golf is not unlike a great many things in retrospect– I would choose Boy Scouts over Little League, slide rule over girls, and God’s will over my own ego. I don’t remember exactly when or where I first saw the game played, but think it was at the old Port Groves Golf Course affectionately known by locals as “the Pea Patch.” A few old men hit the course each morning and spent the rest of the day in the makeshift clubhouse playing poker and drinking beer. We termed it a pea patch because it more resembled a garden or abandoned field than it did a place to play the royal game. Greens varied little from fairways and fairways were only slightly better mown than the San Augustine growing wildly in “the rough.” The only elevation on the course came from the slight rise on the edge of the bar ditch creating the course’s border next to Monroe Street in The Groves.
My father bought a starter set of Northwestern clubs for me and another for himself at Christmas. We played our first round a few days later, and it was so cold that our bargain balls cracked and a few even shattered when struck. I survived the arctic eighteen and started playing regularly at the old Pleasure Island course owned by the City of Port Arthur, playing with my best friend after school and every spare minute when we could escape. He was good; I wasn’t, but loved every minute on the course and couldn’t get enough. In fact, the only time I was ever summoned to the principal’s office was for skipping last period my senior year of high school in order to go play golf. I purchased a new set of clubs from J. C. Penney after graduation, stowed them in my ample trunk and set off for college in my ’65 Ford Galaxy. Golf was my less-than-magnificent obsession– I played frequently and watched golf on weekends. I wasn’t any good, but didn’t know enough or have the money to take lessons in order to improve. Eventually, I laid aside the clubs and the game I loved, and endured life without golf.
I didn’t swing a club for twenty years, until a friend convinced me to pick it up the game again a year ago. This go around I took lessons and am playing better than ever before, but the real difference is mental. My caddy these days is grace. I strive to improve, but what I want most is to enjoy the moments strung together on the driving range or golf course. I’ve relieved myself of the awful burden of perfection and embrace the joy of standing on manicured greens and strolling down pristine fairways, surrounded my reminders that God is good. Better yet, my wife–a decent player and even better companion–often accompanies me, adding to the glory of it all. I’m working steadily to improve my game, but mostly I am allowing myself to enjoy it.
Can I enjoy the game of golf even though I’m not any good at it? Is it possible to love Jesus even though I stumble repeatedly over being salt and light? Allow me to frame it differently: What if discipleship is less about performance, and more about passion? What if Christ-following is more about desire than technical skill? What if the desired end result is not what I am able to produce, but who I become along the way? Grace abounds; joyful are those who revel in and are changed by it.
Living in Light of Easter
Scripture Reading: John 20:11-18
Were you watching last night when Wisconsin upset undefeated Kentucky to advance to the finals on Monday night against Duke? It was an amazing game and when the horn sounded to end the game, a joyous celebration commenced. There was fanfare on the part of Wisconsin fans, and fan grief for Kentucky faithful. Even if you knew nothing about basketball, you would have known that something really big had just taken place.
Somewhere along the way I was programmed to believe something similar should happen on Easter. This is a day of celebration and a great day for celebrating He is alive! Christians gather just like we are for sunrise services, eggs will be hunted, choirs will sing well rehearsed anthems, and preachers will be at their best. Call it our own Christian fanfare.
But for just a few moments, I’d like to take a step back from the pomp and circumstance and look closely at someone who experienced the first Easter firsthand. I would like to see how she responded, thinking that my own response could and should be guided by hers.
There was a lot happening on that first Easter morning, especially for Mary Magdalene. She arrived early and saw that the stone sealing Jesus’ burial place was moved. She did what came natural–she ran to find Peter and John, pillars among the disciples–and told them what she had seen.
• They returned to the tomb together, Peter and John racing each other to see for themselves. They found the grave empty and left to find the others and tell them.
• When she was alone again, Mary decided to stick her head inside and see for herself what Peter and John had seen. She saw two angels and they spoke to her, comforting her.
• She turned around to leave, and saw a man standing nearby and assumed he was the gardener. He asked why she was crying and she quickly explained. There is no hint of recognition of Jesus on her part at this point.
• Then he calls her by name; no simple gardener would have known that. She may have still not fully recognized his face, but she would have known that voice anywhere.
• He gave her some clear and simple instructions and she obeyed immediately.
Mary had an ordinary conversation on the most extraordinary day in human history, or the history of the universe for that matter.
Easter is not intended to be a once-a-year celebration. It is a hope that
permeates the most common and ordinary experiences and moments of life.
About the time I start losing my internal debate as to whether or not there’s rhyme or reason to my current demands and immediate struggles, I’m rescued by a visit from grandchildren. Such was the case when our two-year-old Hannah B spent the evening with us. My assignment upon arriving home from a business trip was to distract Hannah, thereby allowing my wife to complete an embroidery project with a friend. Hannah and I took to the great outdoors hand-in-hand, and I watched with fascination as she reached down to examine every fallen leaf, place it in my hands, wait for me to ‘ooh and aah,’ then retrieve and gently return it to its previous spot on the grass. Hannah knows how to enjoy the moment, undisturbed by the past and unencumbered by anything future. In short order, my precious companion reminded me of the weightiest theology I’ve ever learned: “All moments are key moments, and life itself is grace” (Buechner). The clearest signal of transcendence is that this moment, in and of itself, matters enormously. Eternity begins right now.
I am praying differently these days, not so much to know God’s will any longer but, instead, simply to recognize him in the commonplace. This moment perches precariously on a knife edge, animation suspended between memory and mystery. Lean too far behind and tumble into remorse, regret, reprise, repeat. Stretch too intensely toward tomorrow and drift into fog, fantasy, make believe. Either behind or ahead is dysfunction. To live this breath in healthy tension with present attention, that is the divine mandate–nothing less than relentless intersection, perpetual incarnation. Created in the image of “I am”, “we are.” We abide best in our heavenly Father when we extoll his grace that benefits this breath, and when we embrace the exhilaration of not living in the wake of what we once were. Every day matters; our daily challenge is to recognize what matters most. To be completely honest, that has changed for me over the years. I’ve often wrestled with the inclination to lose sight of the value of this instant while straining to predict the next and strategize accordingly. What happened or didn’t happen yesterday pales in significance with what I do right now; life does count, and this very moment matters enormously. Mercy is at hand in abundance when I allow myself to detect the weight of glory in the mundane and ordinary. Grace is now and grace is here; grace is always present tense.
We live in light of Easter at all times. His living presence transforms this ordinary moment into one of extraordinary hope, if I am living close enough to the light to see it.
(From the Easter sunrise service in Bosqueville, Texas, 2015)
First Person Easter
Scripture Reading: John 19:16-42
No doubt you’ve heard the phrase “familiarity breeds contempt.” While that may be true in some areas of life, I hesitate to apply it to biblical truth. Instead, I would say that familiarity often breeds apathy. Here’s what I mean: our very familiarity with the story of the cross may be the very thing that distances us from its impact. We become, in the worst sense of the word, “objective.” There is grave danger in studying theology in third person. We speak about God. We talk about things like incarnation, justification, atonement, redemption, sanctification, and we do it all from the comfortable distance of third person–He did this. He said that. He is prophet, priest and king. “He.” But God orchestrated human redemption so that we may move from third person to first and second person– “I” and. “You.” “I once was lost but now am found.” “You are Lord of heaven and earth.” “You are my savior and my God.”
We could speak intelligently and convincingly of Jesus Christ and his earthly ministry, compelling teaching, convincing miracles, his courageous response to scourging and triumphant declaration from the cross, “It is finished.” But what makes this whole thing matter is when I am able to say honestly and humbly:
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind but now I see.
Grace is always cross-shaped and redemption is always particular. Not to detract from his general work of securing future grace since Christ died for the sins of the world, but, astonishingly, he offered himself up for my sin in particular. Although I will never choose to escape the responsibility and privilege of life enjoyed in community with family and friends, something deep within rouses to the thought of excusing myself from the company of others in order to relish and revel privately in the ecstasy of grace, unimaginable pardon for unforgivable sin. You may not hear it from my lips in word or harmony, but my soul breaks free in jubilant round, heralding my own strain of mercy inserted above the anthem of the redeemed.
Good Friday
Scripture Reading: John 19
The greatest deposit we make is surrendering ourselves to Christ. The greatest investment we make is in others.
“And now brothers I will ask you a terrible question, and God knows I ask it also of myself. Is the truth beyond all truths, beyond the stars, just this: that to live without him is the real death, that to die with him the only life?”
~Frederick Buechner (The Magnificent Defeat)
DANE FOWLKES 