This week, I had breakfast with a friend of mine. If you read one of my earlier posts, The Serpent and the Dove, then you already know his story. If not, you can click on the title and catch up.
I’ve been worried about him for the past couple of months. There are powerful forces aligned against him. Some are threatening to take away his freedom. Others challenge his ability to provide for his family. The good name he has built for himself hangs in the balance.
The heat he is taking from all sides is intense.
I wish that I could help him, but I don’t know what to do. His situation is so complex that it is difficult to keep track of all the characters, let alone know where to offer assistance. It is a powerless feeling.
I send him messages regularly letting him know that I am praying for him and his family. When I see him across the crowded cafe at church, I weave through the crowd to hug him. This week, I met him for breakfast. It seems like so little, but it’s all I know how to give right now.
I arrived at Einstein’s Bagels a few minutes early for our breakfast together and found an empty table while I waited for him to arrive. I expected him to walk through the door with the weight of the world obvious on his face and in his posture. I wondered what I would say.
When he walked in, it wasn’t what I had expected. He had an easy smile. He told me “Good morning” and thanked me for inviting him. We ordered our food and while we waited for it, he brought me up to speed on his situation. He spoke with seriousness but didn’t seem scared or defeated. The magnitude of his situation was at odds with the tranquility of his disposition.
He described to me how blessed he was by his small group. They had surrounded him with compassion and prayed for him regularly. He and his wife had sought out powerful prayer warriors to ask for the Father’s help. Then he thanked me again for my prayerful support.
His future is uncertain, but his faith is unshaken. Through all of the peril, he trusts God to deliver him. Looking forward, he told me that when this was over his testimony would be powerful and that he would be prepared to share it with the whole world that currently seems aligned against him.
Eventually, we parted ways. While I was walking across the parking lot, I was thinking about the testimony he would inevitably share. What would his story be?
I got to my car and climbed behind the wheel. As I reached to set my phone into its cradle, I noticed the familiar blue light that announces an awaiting message. It was from James, who is also going through a tough time. I’ve been worried about him, too. His text message said:
“Someone sent a slow day Christian
playlist in the group chat for my
small group and this song on shuffle
played two different versions in a
row out of about 60.
So I’d call that a message at least.”
The link that followed was to the song “Another In The Fire” by Hillsong. You can click the thumbnail picture to hear it.
James was right. It was a message. It was meant for him and for me.
The song’s title is a reference to a story from the third chapter of Daniel in the Old Testament. Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego refused to worship their king as if he were a god. The enraged king ordered them to be bound and thrown into a blazing furnace. The furnace was so hot that the guards who threw them in died from the heat. But the three friends weren’t consumed by the flames. Instead, they danced inside, untied and unharmed.
When the surprised king looked into the fire and saw them dancing inside, he peered closer and saw a fourth person. He said that there was another in the fire, who looked like a son of the gods.
When people hear this story, they don’t visualize the three friends walking out of the furnace, or the reward they later received from the king, or even their story being told for generations afterwards. When people hear the story, they imagine the three dancing in the flames, joined by another in the fire, who saved them.
My friend doesn’t have to wait for his testimony to be revealed. He has inspired me with it already. Encircled by danger and surrounded by flames, he is dancing. He knows that there is another in the fire, dancing with him. That is his testimony.
In this world, all of us will constantly experience difficulty, danger, and pain. But Jesus is alive. He is our salvation and we are never alone. Our story does not have to wait until the final victory to be told. Our present peace influences others more than our future reward.
Our story is told while we dance in the flames, knowing there is another in the fire with us.
My friend was right. His testimony is powerful and I am thankful that he shared it with me.
When I was an emerging adolescent, sex was one of those things nobody talked about in my house. My parents approached the subject with a Victorian-era level of modesty that extended from activities to anatomy. It was don’t ask and don’t tell.
At some point in junior high school, the changes to my body became impossible to ignore. First, my voice changed. It wasn’t like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. It introduced a long, messy period when people laughed at my awkwardness. Second, I slowly started to get taller. Last, pimples popped up. It was a mess.
Instead of initiating a direct discussion, my folks planted a copy of The Changing Me where they knew I would find it. Over the coming months, I spent afternoons reading through it. As any honest man would admit, I wasn’t really hoping for education as much as a cheap thrill, but regardless of the viewing angle, the sketches reflected the same level of modesty that had led my mother to select the book in the first place.
When I had enough of it, Preston inherited the copy. I expect his experience was much the same as my own. A generation later, I bought a copy for James. By that time, it was a family joke. Any reference James made to physical growth would end up with us handing him his copy of The Changing Me and telling him to read all the chapters, not just to look at the pictures. Ask him about it, please.
Forty years later, I am dealing with enormous changes in my life. I’m learning that The Changing Me missed some key points and ended a few chapters early.
The pages inside revealed how I should expect to get taller and stronger. There was lots of information on growth, but not much on what I would have to let go – like childlike innocence, naiveté, bones that bent before breaking, smooth skin, clear voice, and more.
Growth in one area is accompanied by surrender in another. The book didn’t prepare me for that.
Lots more than physical differences came over the next few years. Things that had been icky became intriguing. It was like my brain had been rewired. Body, mind, and spirit are intertwined. Each of them continues to evolve. Changes to one affect the others. The book definitely didn’t prepare me for that.
The unwritten chapters at the end should have told me that these changes weren’t a one-time thing. The Changing Me is a lifetime process.
Too often, my perception of who I am is frozen, a compilation of various characteristics that were true at differing points of my life. My reality is evolving. I look different. I think different. I want different things. My patchwork view of myself doesn’t match who I am now, and probably never did.
My growth spurts are no longer physical, but they continue to happen fast and generate lots of confusion. The lazy part of me wants to do nothing but sit back and wait for God to reveal everything. The Bible teaches differently.
As a teenager, I was constantly encouraged to try new things – sports, academics, jobs, foods, and friends. Paul tells us that we should be transformed by the renewing of our minds (Rom 12:2). He wasn’t talking about a one-time thing. He meant for us to get out there and challenge ourselves with experiences that are constantly renewed.
Growth means change, but I value constancy in my life. However, the nature of love is to set aside previous ways of thinking (1 Cor 13:11) and reach for more. That takes both courage and a lot of effort.
God wants us to live a life pursuing him(Jer 29:13). If we never changed, that pursuit would end. It is ironic that when we refuse to embrace the changes happening to us, we complain about how “things aren’t like they used to be”, or how “people today are different”. Things aren’t supposed to be the same and neither are we.
In my season of epoch change, may God grant me the courage to discover my emerging strengths and the bravery to let go of things that no longer fit.
Growing is a lifelong process and you never get grown up. The Changing Me left that part out.
Mike was ignoring my best attempts to get off the phone.
I had returned his call as I left the office but the drive home was now over and I was sitting in the driveway in the dark. It had been good to hear that his trip home from the wedding was smooth, but it was time for me to transition to my task list inside. That meant ending the call.
If he had noted my not-so-subtle clues, he wasn’t letting on. He finally got to the point of his call.
“Jimmy, you need to take the night off. Take a hot shower, eat a good dinner, get a cold beer and watch something pointless on TV.”
I was getting out of the car and hanging up as I told him that I would do that, but I had no intention of following through on my promise. There was stuff to do. I needed to find some missing wingnuts for a propane heater we had sold. The garage was still a mess from the wedding. The ceramic flooring that ran through our house was gross and needed a thorough mopping. When those things were done, there was a backlog of new projects to start. So much to do.
Walking up the sidewalk to the front door, I realized that Mike wasn’t the only one who had told me the same thing. It seemed like a lot of people lately had echoed the same sentiment.
Things have been crazy recently. My grandmother passed away thirteen weeks ago. Erin’s wedding prep was a mad dash for the past seven weeks. Mom passed away three weeks ago. James’s personal issues over the past week had me worried and not sleeping well. Our wedding guests just left town after four days at the house. Returning to work, I realized there were eight key items to complete in the next six weeks.
It would be fine, though. The pace was fast, but I could go faster. It would all get done, I just needed to stay focused. Eventually, we would catch up and things would slow down.
But they won’t slow down, will they? Mike was right. I needed the night off.
I opened the front door and Tarzan raced around the corner and down the hall to meet me. Instead of walking past him, I got down on my knees and took time to pet him. He likes to stand on his back legs and put his front legs on my chest, staring me eye to eye while I scruffle his neck and back. When I eventually stood back up, he ran ahead of me into the other room, announcing my entry.
I love that one-eyed pug.
I followed him into the kitchen and found Kim there. I hugged her, and we embraced for a long moment, not like I usually do with my patented move, the quick-squeeze-and-push-away. It was nice. I hadn’t taken the time to do that lately.
We took the night off as Mike had prescribed. It was an unproductive evening, although I did sneak out to find those missing wingnuts.
Those few quiet hours were nice, but I’m fighting the temptation to downshift and floor the accelerator to return to top speed and attend to the details that are stacking up. Instead, I need to pause and process all of it.
In less than 100 days, the changes in my family have been epoch.
The last of the Greatest Generation has been laid to rest. My mom is also receiving her reward, making two generations of women who have suddenly been silenced. Kim’s reign as the matriarch of our family has unwillingly begun.
Erin has started a family of her own and someone else has pledged to care for her.
James is flown and now grown. He is building his own team to give him counsel and to support him through tough times.
It is hard to keep your footing when the circle of life lurches forward.
The world and my place in it are changing. The old me won’t fit into the new order, and I need God to show me my place while I figure out how to best relate to my friends and family in this new season. Meanwhile, God is granting me new gifts and transferring some of my former abilities to the emerging leaders in my life.
It will take time to understand. Burying myself in my work won’t change the reality of my situation. I need quiet time with God for him to put the pieces together.
In those quiet times, I’m thankful for my dog, who helps me put life into focus. Life has been crazy for him lately, too. He moved to Erin’s place while we were at mom’s funeral. When we returned, an army of visitors invaded his sanctuary. As the crowds left, Erin’s dogs moved in during her honeymoon. Now it is back to normal, but he must wonder for how long.
Instead, he rests comfortably. It is enough for him to know that I am there.
I’m going to take a tip from Tarzan about how to rest in the Father. That part of my life should never change.
Erin and Josh got married last Saturday, and brought a close to this year’s wedding season.
The event went perfectly. Erin was a doe-eyed bride, and Josh was a nervous groom. Their love for each other was on full display. When they read their vows to each other, it was the highlight of the day. It carried me back to my own wedding and made me grateful to have enjoyed twenty-seven years of the same joy that awaits them.
The wooded area on the water’s edge was beautifully picturesque. The wedding arch framed the newlyweds and was resplendent with a cross and intertwined rings as accents. The bridesmaids and groomsmen stood by, capturing the youth and enthusiasm that burned in everyone’s hearts.
I wouldn’t change a thing.
Oh, it had all the typical bumps. The bride’s ring was left at home, the groom’s printed copy of the vows never made it, one microphone didn’t work, I stood in the wrong position and blocked the Go-Pro camera view, the playlist for the reception vanished into digital vapor, guests’ toes went numb from the cold, the fire wouldn’t light, one of the most special guests arrived a few minutes late, and the photo backdrop didn’t fit in its assigned location.
But, I still wouldn’t change a thing.
Each of these minor disasters was dismissed with a smile because they were reminders that the goal of the day was never flawless execution. It was a celebration of young people in love, vowing before God and their community to stay true to each other for all of their days to come.
As a reminder to myself (and hopefully of benefit to others), here are the lessons that I learned throughout the whirlwind 7 weeks.
Release tradition and embrace passions From one end to the other, Erin surprised me with what she wanted – outside ceremony, crazy food, no chairs, jokes in her vows, dressy casual attire (isn’t that an oxymoron?), and so much more. It was her day, though. Kim honored each of her selections and it all came together. Her dream was different, but it suited her, just like her marriage will.
Ask for help We were able to pull the entire wedding off without the typical professional help. We have wonderful friends who pitched in and did a great job. Bob built the wedding arch. Carra provided decorations and fussed over the details surrounding the reception. Pam and Steve demonstrated why they are MVPs every year. Gary entertained as he took pictures. Mike had my back all weekend. My sister made adjustments on the fly, never drawing attention to herself. The list goes on.
Weddings are about life in community. I’m glad we rolled up our sleeves and went to work with our best friends. It saved money, and the experience was priceless.
If you want help with your event, ask Kim or me. We will gladly share what we know.
Speak life We tried to tell the bride and groom the truth about who they will become. Guests spoke blessings over their future. I honored them in blog posts leading up to the event. Kim’s sweet spirit spread encouragement. Weddings should set the couple up for success, not stress them over details that are soon forgotten.
Keep God in the center It was a tough seven weeks. It was tempting to slip into the wrong mindset when Erin wanted a champagne toast at 11am and the city required special permits and police oversight (that one did not happen). It was hard to stay focused when Kim told me that we needed biodegradable forks and bamboo cones for birdseed. I wanted to go on strike when the flowers seemed too large to transport.
However, God brought calm to a chaotic rehearsal dinner when we stopped to pray. I found peace reading what the Bible said about weddings. Difficult people were easier to deal with when I remembered that God loved them.
Placing God in the center of a wedding is a first step in keeping him there throughout the marriage. And that is my greatest wish for them.
Congratulations Erin and Josh. The best is yet to come!
