Last week, Kim was fortunate enough to be included in the early rollout of COVID vaccinations. She got the first of two injections on a Friday and although her arm was a bit sore the next day, she had no real side effects. In theory, that got her immunity up to 50%.
The next day she and James drove to Big Bend National Park to hike and enjoy the beautiful scenery. It was a short trip that they very much enjoyed. They took a few pictures of each other standing in front of breathtaking backdrops but didn’t bring back much else…except a double case of COVID.
By Tuesday, Kim had symptoms that she chalked up to a bad cold – coughing, headache, body aches. She stayed home but generally continued her regular routine, although at a reduced capacity.
On Thursday, James drove back from our house back to Austin for spring semester. By the time he arrived, he felt bad and took his temperature only to discover a 101° fever. The next morning, he headed to Student Health to get his rapid test. Bad news. He tested positive.
He was predictably disappointed with the outcome and got back into his car to go to his apartment and consider his next steps. On the short drive, a car pulled out directly in front of him and with no time to respond, he hit it broadside. Thankfully, no one was injured except for the cars involved. He was able to drive back to his apartment, but the puddle of fluid under the radiator made it clear that it wasn’t going anywhere until it was repaired.
Kim received his call and scheduled herself and me for our rapid tests. After getting our brains tickled with the swab, our results came back. Hers was positive, my initial test result was negative.
By evening, she felt really bad and climbed into bed at 4 pm. I texted a few of her friends whose numbers were on my phone and left it to them to pass along the news. I also alerted our extended families, my boss, and a few friends that James and Kim were confirmed positive, had mild-to-moderate symptoms, and that all of us would be in quarantine for the coming days.
On Saturday, I got up early and made the eight-hour round trip to Austin to bring James back to our house. In his small apartment with a roommate and a dog, there was no way for him to isolate effectively without exposing his roommate or others. Although he had been relieved to go back to school only forty-eight hours earlier, his destiny was to return to mom and dad’s house for a while.
When I got back, the lab messaged me that they had conducted a secondary test that is more accurate, and my result was also positive. Although my symptoms are mild, the count at our COVID Camp had climbed to three.
A lot changes in a few days.
Only a week ago, my blog post (click to read The Flood) contemplated what the world would be like when the pandemic was over. I have been preparing my thoughts for my follow-up post, which I planned to title “The Abundant Life”. If the world were to become very different, I would need to determine a new set of dreams.
I am suddenly faced with counting out three separate mountains of pills each day, focusing on taking care of Kim, and learning to survive in a bubble. My considerations of a new tomorrow were very premature. For a time, my job is to take the best care possible of my family and avoid spreading this infection to a world already full of is already full of it.
It’s not exactly the abundant life I had imagined.
I sat down and prepared to settle into a COVID Sucks Pity Party. We were short on groceries. I would have to work from home for two weeks (not a fan, by the way). What I had hoped was almost over seemed to just be getting started.
The Abundant Life? Are you kidding me? An abundance of problems maybe, but not the blessings I’d hoped for.
Then my phone buzzed. I ignored it. A few seconds later, it buzzed again, then again. Then the phone rang. It didn’t stop for the next hour two hours.
One after another, someone was calling to check on me and the family. Before it was over, we had several specific offers to help – Donna brought her best-in-the-world mac and cheese, Bob recommended shows to binge-watch on Netflix, Steve dropped N95 masks in the mailbox, Mary Jo and Wendy delivered cookies, Columba sent comfort verses, Carra supplied input on vitamins to take, Erin picked up my prescriptions, and two different Pams scheduled dinner deliveries for the week.
Other people have called with general offers to help in any way they could – Hank, Kelly, my boss, my dad, and others. These offers weren’t hollow, meaningless gestures. They really mean it. I know for a truth that I could ask anything of any of them and it would be on my doorstep within moments.
It is overwhelming. I love every one of these people so much.
My immediate needs have been met. I am assured that everything else will be provided when it is needed.
These gestures are extraordinarily generous, but they are merely reflections of the extravagant God who orchestrates it all. On days that are full of darkness, his presence shines brightly in a way I never notice when everything is sunny.
I am re-thinking my definition of The Abundant Life. It isn’t an existence free of stress, troubles, injury, and pain. It is a life full of peace, love, and joy. One describes the circumstances that surround me. The other is the condition of my heart in the midst of those circumstances.
I love days that are full of promotion, victory, miracles, and rainbows. The beauty of God’s creation fills my eyes. His divine favor rests on my shoulders. His goodness is on display for everyone who will see.
I also love the days when storm clouds gather and the world warns of imminent disaster. When aches and pain run through my body and tears fill my eyes, God stops what he is doing to comfort me. He sends friends to stand by my side. He reminds me that I will have trouble in this world, but that he has overcome it. He soothes my soul.
An abundant life has days that are easy and days that are hard. It also has many uneventful ones when nothing exciting happens. It is not about the events that fill your days. An abundant life is one that is filled with faith, hope, and love.
Maybe it is too early to see what lies ahead when the pandemic’s floodwaters recede. However, in the days of trial that precede the next season, I am reminded that joy is born out of love that is shared.
It is exactly the right time to cherish the special people in my life – the ones who need my help, the ones who are offering their help to me, and the One who holds us all together. My life is blessed to be full of them.
My fantasies of finding a happy path through the new year have already taken a beating. Before the first week of 2021 came to an end, we were faced with a single-day record of 291,000 COVID cases, a more contagious strain of the virus spreading across multiple states, a violent attack against democracy that was carried out by our own citizens, and national responses to the attack that further divided our country.
My heart is heavy.
It is hard to reconcile with my feelings from only a few days ago when I was fondly listening to “Auld Lang Syne” with high hopes for the unspoiled year that had limitless potential.
I’m already rethinking what I am hopeful for.
When Noah had finished building the ark, he and his family climbed the gangplank and boarded their traveling shelter. As it began to rain, they must have bowed in thanks to God for sparing them from the nightmare that was unfolding outside.
Their physical safety was guaranteed, but most of us are growing to understand the emotional toll of their next 375 days of lockdown. The atmosphere in the ark must have been heavy at times, both emotionally and spiritually. Their diets were limited. The scenery never changed. Managing sanitation and smell inside the floating barn would have been a dirty, full-time job.
Caged in a cell where the sun never shone, you can imagine their wishlist. Watching sports. Hearing the crunch of an apple when your teeth pierce its skin. Soaking in a hot bath until your fingertips wrinkle. Smelling honeysuckle while butterflies dance around the blooms. Feasting with the community after the harvest. Rocking slowly on the porch while the neighbors’ kids played games. Humming along while the band plays your favorite song.
But they would need new dreams when the ark’s door was opened. Floodwaters were washing away their previous lives and leaving behind uncertain. They needed ambitions better suited to their pending situation. Noah must have spent many nights speaking with the family about what the coming season would require. Each of them would have different responsibilities when they emerged into a world they had never known before.
As the floodwaters of our pandemic continue to rise, I am left to wonder what will be left behind when we open the ark’s door. The defining event of our generation is changing the landscape while we are locked away. A microscopic virus and unseen, supernatural forces are altering how we will interact with each other in ways that are both great and small.
Clear goals are difficult to set before the dawn of our release. I peer out the window and imagine how the world will be different. I have faith in a bright tomorrow but am still mourning a yesterday that is disappearing into the murky depths.
I have noodled and doodled, but most of my goals will only achieve a pleasant passing of the time. None of them represent the audacious daring of past years.
I have prayed for guidance and spent time searching the scriptures for answers. My hope arrived during a quiet morning devotional. It took the form of a warning that Jesus gave to the early church in Ephesus who was enduring its own torrent of change.
“But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first. Remember then from what you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first. If not, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place” Rev 2: 4-5
These verses could also be paraphrased to say that when we passionately embrace Jesus with the same excitement we had on the day of our salvation, He will remain with us and our lives will be blessed.
That is my theme for 2021.
To me, this is about more than attending church each week or reading the Bible in a year. It is more important than serving days or participating in a small group. In the verses before the quote above, Jesus thanked the church for their loyalty before giving them fair warning about their lack of passion.
“The love I had at first” was reckless, unbounded, heart-pounding excitement that consumed my thoughts. I remember the long walk up the church aisle. My head roared with the rush of a thousand voices singing in unison my promise to give Him my life. Everything else melted away, and He filled my eyes. No change seemed extreme, no request was insurmountable in my pursuit of Heaven itself.
The days that followed were a honeymoon of sorts. I was proudly baptized in front of my church. I read all the Gospel’s red-letter words to hear His voice. I was so excited that my name was written in His Book. My prayers were full of both the naiveté and passion of a spiritual child.
As time passed, did my excitement diminish? Did some of the shine wear off? Whether it did or not, I’m committing to maintaining the enthusiasm I had “at first”.
Passionately embracing means doing things just for him because I want to see his smile. It means writing a blog post that tells him I love him even if no one else pays attention. It means building a prayer garden to provide Him with a beautiful, quiet place to meet with people. It means standing ready to do anything else that would bring Him joy.
My objectives for the new year should be a list of ideas to bring us together. They should represent small reminders for me to get Jesus something great for his birthday, to celebrate our anniversary with more excitement than I had on that first day, and to tell everyone who will listen about my Savior.
Achieving my goals should increase the passion with which I pursue Jesus so that he will be more present in my life.
If my goals change, they will be replaced by something new that reflects the same motive – Embrace the love I had at first.
He is the great joy of my life.
Great and mighty things await on the horizon. For a time, floodwaters may rage and swirl tossing my life into unknown places. I know that He will bring me to rest on a mountaintop with a rainbow spanning the sky.
At our house, we don’t set New Year’s Resolutions. Does anyone enjoy making lists of chores you didn’t want to do last year but begrudgingly acknowledge that you ought to do in the next one? Not this guy. I don’t want a list on the fridge that tells me to eat right or exercise more. It may as well read “have less fun”.
Every year I hand out forms to everyone in the family for New Year’s Goals. At first glance, it seems like the same thing, but it is very different. When we set goals, we focus on our dreams and write down our biggest wishes for the next year. Basically, we are asking “If I can have anything next year, what would it be?”
It’s a lot more fun.
This morning, I began searching through my cloud storage for the Goals template to print for Kim and me, then to email to Erin and James. I never found it, but I did find an old version from 2013, which I opened and printed. It would be easy enough to wipe out the old entries and write down new ones.
Instead, I spent the morning reflecting on the times and my family eight years ago.
Many of my personal goals centered around my increasing interest in local missions. My heart longed to use the skills that God gave me to serve the needs of people in my community. Unfortunately the future of the fledgling First Fruits ministry was uncertain, so I hoped that my church would establish a program. The various goals included: * Work in Local Missions at VCC as it evolves * Develop leaders for other groups/events
Kim was in the midst of difficult years in raising kids. We had a 15- and a 12-year-old. They seemed intent on gaining all the liberties of being “grown-up” without sacrificing the freedoms of being a childhood. It was hard on her. Her heart yearned to grow closer to children who were pushing her away while she tried to prepare them with basic life skills. She added: * Assign kids a “cooking day” * Plan one-on-one outings with each family member monthly
At fifteen years old, Erin was in a bit all over the place. However, she found joy making things with her hands that could be enjoyed by people. She listed goals that broadened her talents while connecting with people. They included: * Learn to knit * Work with Oak Tree Apartments (Kim led an after-school ministry program there)
James has always been the audacious dreamer. His goals were seldom realistic and infrequently achieved. He yearned to find his place and be strong, but also to soothe the angst that was growing inside him. Despite his total lack of musical experience and an awkward pre-pubescent physique, he determined to: * Learn to play 10 songs on the guitar * Play Football, Cross Country, Track, and Basketball
When the following December rolled around, I checked our progress only to find that we had accomplished virtually none of our goals.
As soon as 2013 started, our lives unexpectedly had taken a different direction. Kim’s dad, who was living with us and battling cancer, passed away in March. Our own poor decisions landed us in court off-and-on throughout the year. In meetings with church staff, they advised me they were not going to focus on local ministry at that time. James joined a basketball team that went 0-11, then decided team sports were boring.
Although our goals were not met, the seeds of our dreams had been planted. We had opened our hearts to our Lord and asked him for help. Eight years later it is obvious that God was not only listening but he had put plans in place to give us more than we asked for.
In the coming years, First Fruits expanded into everything I had asked God for someone else to start. Leaders emerged that I had not even met yet, and they went on to lead the ministry that our church established years later. Our city has become a better reflection of the eternal kingdom.
The kids never cooked dinner regularly, but Kim raised a family that loves well, helps each other, and takes responsibility. They are the next generation of our country, and she has faith in them. They are growing beyond her hopes in ways she could not see as an exasperated mom.
Erin moved into the Oak Tree Apartments complex where she had bonded with children almost a decade earlier. She is the family’s “crafty one” who builds treasures out of the mundane. The work she hoped to do with her hands has literally blossomed as she adorns her balcony with beautiful plants that her neighbors rush to copy. She makes a career bringing beauty into people’s lives, centered in the same spot she served God those many years ago.
James grew from the awkward kid into a powerful man. He set aside sports to focus on wellness and will graduate this year from UT Austin with a B.S. in Kinesiology and Health Education. He is discovering his own path. His destiny is so much larger than the audacious dreams he had as a child. But when the sadness of life weighs heavily on his soul, he finds comfort by playing his guitar and softly singing along. God grants him peace in a personal way that his lips could never have found the words to request.
Although most of our goals were not realized, He had been focused on our hearts’ desires. While we were busy planning our paths, God was guiding our steps into something much better.
The new year isn’t about committing to burdensome resolutions. It’s not even about achieving arbitrary goals.
The dawn of the new year is a time to dream. In the quiet moments before regular life resumes, it is a chance to contemplate a future that will exceed any image we have conceived before. Like Christmas is a time for children to sit in Santa’s lap and tell him what they want, New Year’s is our chance to relax with the Father and weave fantasies that only He can breathe into existence.
God has given everything so that we can have an abundant life (John 10:10). He has not only promised us hope and a future (Jer 29:11), but he guarantees us anything that we ask in His name (John 16:23).
If we can have whatever we dream, why do we spend so little time imagining? Why do we tend to limit our prayers to small items that model a future after a slightly improved present?
A list from 2013 revealed to me that He has been at work in our lives. Although we didn’t always get specifically what we asked for, he nurtured the spirit that had motivated the requests. That is His way.
On this New Year’s Eve, I won’t be able to gather with friends and wonder how late I can stay awake. My hopes for the future will exceed a previous year that is five pounds lighter. Instead, I will take time with Kim to envision impossibly fantastic ambitions. We will ask for supernatural blessings that no one else could provide.
Let’s give God the chance to demonstrate how truly powerful and loving He really is. What father wouldn’t relish the opportunity to grant the wishes of his child?
When we are finished conjuring images of remarkable days to come, we will write down a single step we can take in faith, believing that He will fulfill those dreams.
That is what a New Year’s Goal is to me.
In another eight years, who knows what fruit these seeds will yield?
Every year, I try to pause and reflect on the year we are leaving behind. The goal is to say goodbye to the ones who left us, let go of the burdens that should not move forward, and reflect on the events that should reshape us.
2020 was filled with disasters on an epic scale. We became numb to the numbers of sick and dead. Horrible events followed each other so quickly that they blended together into a toxic cloud that constantly hung over us. But in the midst of it all, hope wouldn’t die. It continued to rise out of the ashes as we held onto faith that better days lie ahead.
Here is my summary of 2020.
Glad to Leave Behind
This list could consume my post. There are so many things we want to bury in 2020. COVID-19 infected 82 million people worldwide and claimed the lives of 1.8 million. Quarantine and lockdown overwhelmed the popular vernacular, exploding out of their previous relegation to hospital or prison settings. Fires in Australia and California destroyed a 50-million-acre area the size of South Dakota. Thirty tropical storms set a hurricane-season record.
The entire world went into a recession. The U.S. unemployment rate set all-time records. Churches closed their doors when we needed them most. Nobody can count the number of businesses that have permanently shuttered.
Dark Sides of Our Humanity Were Exposed
The president was impeached. Extremists made plans to kidnap the governor of Michigan. A bomb was detonated in downtown Nashville. Stories of unarmed black men dying at the hands of police filled the news. Protesters’ messages were lost during the wanton destruction of many of our cities. The Boys Scouts sought bankruptcy protection due to sexual abuse lawsuits.
QAnon emerged from the darkness of our hearts. We got scared and hoarded toilet paper and groceries instead of sharing with our neighbors. Domestic violence, depression, and alcohol abuse rates skyrocketed when our freedoms were curtailed.
Signs of Hope Emerged
Voter turnout in national elections hit an all-time record high. The country stood together to declare that it is time to end systemic racism. Nurses, teachers, and other front-line workers became celebrated heroes. Food distribution programs overflowed. Millions viewed as John Krasinksi shared Some Good News. We anxiously watched an owl being saved from a Christmas tree in Rockefeller Plaza.
Voices of Inspiration Were Silenced
Ruth Bader Ginsburg defended her closing case. John Lewis marched his last mile. Chuck Yeager explored his final frontier.
Actors, Musicians, and Athletes Who Inspired Us Were Laid to Rest
Alex Trebek and Regis Philbin hosted their finales. Kirk Douglas, Sean Connery, Brian Dennehy, and Jerry Stiller have become stories themselves. Little Richard, Kenny Rogers, Bill Withers, Eddie van Halen, Charlie Daniels, and Charlie Pride are now echoes. Kobe Bryant, Gale Sayers, Joe Morgan, and so many other exceptional athletes have played their final games.
It is hard to comprehend the past twelve months or put it into context for anyone who wasn’t there. Before the New Year is in full swing, I want to pause to reflect on the good and the bad, as well as the people who inspired me or made me laugh. All of it is now part of our collective history.
In the face of so much change, how will I be different in 2021?
WIth each person that passes into eternity, I have to decide what part of them to keep alive. For every person who is marginalized or victimized, I have to choose if I will take up their cause. What lessons have I been taught that I must now turn and teach to a new generation? Who will I share my remaining time with, showering them with the same love I’ve seen the Father pour out?
2020 may be over, but it will never be forgotten. God help us use it to build a better tomorrow.
My final act of this year will be to bury the past 365 days. It is a symbolic way of laying down burdens who have no place where we are going, of mourning the people who will be missed, and reflecting on who I will become.
The picture at the beginning of the post is my “burn boat” for this year. I will write a letter of all the things I am leaving behind as I enter the new year and place it into the boat. Several of my friends will be with me and do the same thing. As the boat is pushed into the pool and lit on fire in Viking style, 2020 will disappear in smoke as I pray for God to guide my future paths.
If I left out a special moment or person that impacted you, I hope you will add them into the Comments below.
Last week, Erin and Josh moved out of the one-bedroom apartment they had been in since their wedding. As newlyweds should, they spent most of the last year focused on each other. Now they are looking for extra space to accommodate their expanding lives.
Their new place is 60% larger than the previous one. It has room for a dining table, hobbies, and office space. It also has lots and lots of space for their houseplants that fill a space to rival a tropical rainforest. Erin has been giggly for weeks just thinking about it.
I offered to help coordinate the move. My hope was to wrap the young couple in community support by helping them carry some of the load and once everything was securely inside, to pray together over their new home.
It was a simple project compared to the dozens of others I’ve coordinated, except this one took place in a pandemic. The dates changed unexpectedly. Some of the people had COVID-19 symptoms and were a question mark for being able to help. Whether or not to wear facemasks became a question.
I spent a lot of time considering details. I asked if they had enough boxes, whether they needed to borrow a tape gun, what they should pack vs carry by the armload. I checked frequently on whether or not the manager had confirmed the date and peeked through the windows of the new place to see if any surprises lay inside.
I built a new dining table for them and refinished chairs for them to use. I offered to build shelving for extra storage. I wanted to do anything I could to make their new place perfect.
Somewhere along the line, Kim warned me to back off and let them control their own destiny. At the time, I didn’t listen. I pushed her counsel to the back of my mind and went scurrying about my details.
Just before moving day, I had a troubling dream. It was one of those dreams that you can’t shake loose when you awaken.
I was living in my childhood home in the same bedroom I had when I was 16 years old. I was going about my routine getting ready for the day when I opened the closet door to get my clothes. I looked down and saw that the closet floor was falling apart. Not only was the carpet gone, but the subfloor had holes in it that revealed the basement below. The floor joists were also damaged. It was a mess.
After recovering from the initial shock, I started to make a plan for repairing the damage. When I told my dad about my proposal, he pointed out potential problems and left me to start over developing a new course of action. Time after time, the same thing happened. No matter what idea I had, it wasn’t good enough.
Although I had never done this specific job before, I felt confident in my ability to figure it out. However, my patience was exhausted by seemingly endless conversations and Dad would never release me to do the work. His well-intentioned criticism was as persistent as my desire to do things by myself.
My frustration level climbed with each concept I proposed that Dad found some reason to challenge. The dream became one of those endless loops that seem to last all night.
I woke up in my bed in my house, but still filled with the same resentment that had haunted my dream. As I got my day started, the emotions I carried into my waking world simmered just under the surface. When Kim woke up and came downstairs, I told her about my dream. I described my exasperation that my father would never just accept that I had things under control.
When I looked at her confused expression, I realized that all of it had merely been a bad dream. My dad doesn’t overreach his boundaries or constantly meddle in my affairs. There isn’t anything that he has prevented or even discouraged me from moving forward with.
It has been thirty years since I stepped out on my own. Back then, I wanted so badly to emerge from my family’s shadow and begin to do things my way. It was not because their lives or solutions were bad or wrong, but I wanted to grow up. Their offers for help were a chain around my leg that snapped taut whenever I tried to run free.
As those memories flooded back, I began to recognize the same expression on my kids’ faces. It is especially evident with James. When I offer him advice, he looks back at me as if he wants to plug his ears and yell “Bah, Bah, Bah, Bah!” until I stop talking. Most of the time he disappears from the room within a few moments.
Erin’s response is different than James’s, but the message is the same. She quietly ignores my advice and waits for me to become weary in my efforts. Now that I think about it, she did that several times when I was “helping” her plan her move.
The slow realization began to sink in that my dream was a warning. What I had suppressed when Kim told me to back off and give the kids freedom on their moving day had escaped through my subconscious. I had only viewed the dream wrong. In it, I was the son who had now become the father.
Ultimately, her move was a success. Their new place is perfect and with the help of some fantastic friends – Steve Hermann, Rick Clark, and Hank Cates – their keys to the old apartment were ready to turn in by 5pm the same day.
The kids are becoming the leaders of tomorrow. Upgrading an apartment is a small step toward setting a broader vision for their lives. By pitching in to ensure their success, James is setting aside his own priorities and placing others above himself. One day at a time, one decision at a time, they are learning to fulfill God’s command in Genesis 1:28 to be fruitful, to subdue the chaos of the world, and to remake it in God’s image.
It is still early and they have a long way to go, but the smell of change is already in the air. The seeds they have begun to plant are showing small sprouts emerging through the soil. Soon enough, they will take my place as the leaders of a generation.
I will have to learn to offer assistance generously but to be satisfied if they decline. Hopefully, they will find ways to involve us in their plans. They wil have to learn in their own way though.
For now, it will start with surrendering control of our Christmas schedule to them. Because their work schedules are more pressing than ours, they will choose when we open gifts and when (or even if) we have a formal meal. It is a small thing, but it’s a beginning. I trust them to figure it out and watching them is better than getting my preferences.
Exiting 2020 and entering 2021, more of my thoughts are drifting to how to help the kids establish their lives. I have accumulated a lifetime of wisdom, skills, and other resources that I would love to make available to them. As my dream reminded me, it is a lot harder to help than it seems at first glance.
Hopefully, the kids will begin to see that my offer to give them full access to anything that is mine isn’t an effort to control them. It is a sign that I have faith in them. We will have to proceed at a pace that satisfies us both.
That’s just how it is with God, right? He is ready to throw open the floodgates and give us the full authority of his name. We aren’t ready yet, and we resist him while we fight to do things our way. But He is patient with us too. One glorious day, we will find our peace in full communion with him. Then everything He has will be ours.
