Author's Posts

In this month, one hundred and ninety-nine years ago, a large ship was rammed and sunk by a male sperm whale in the farthest reaches of the Pacific. The following summer, several of the men from that ship’s crew, who had miraculously survived the ordeal afterward, made it home.

Safe and sound.

I have the honor and privilege of supporting members of our armed forces while they are deployed. It is completely voluntary on my part…and one of the best parts of my life. This past week, I heard from one of the soldiers I had encouraged via letters for months. He sent me an email to let me know he was finally home.

Safe and sound.

What does it mean to return to our loved ones safe and sound? When I meditate on that, I think of safe as physical wellness and sound as soundness of mind.

But while many have appeared to be of sound mind after surviving chronically or acutely stressful and even traumatic circumstances, that soundness does not always continue.

At least one of those surviving sailors struggled with symptoms of what we now call PTSD and paranoia the rest of his life, even more in his old age when he was eventually declared to be insane. And while some service members really do maintain strong mental health, some of them bear more pain and psychological imbalance than they can truly handle alone as life marches on.

In truth, soundness of mind is one of the greatest blessings any person can be given.

And if something happens to disrupt that soundness, unwavering support and compassion from others is perhaps an even greater blessing bestowed.

Has God blessed you with sound mental health? Or brought you some healing of mind? If so, be thankful and cherish it every day.

Do you care about someone who is struggling with or in danger of developing mental health concerns? Pray for strength to love them and to bless them with your support. And be blessed in knowing your support of them is a heaven-sent gift.

Most of all, thanks be to the God who desires for us to be safe and sound. But who blesses us because He loves us always, especially when we draw near to Him. In any state of mind.

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Over the past few days, I have had one person each day (most of whom I had never met in person before) look me in the eye and say, “Bless you, child.”

(This is not a common experience for me.)

My reply each time, after a moment of surprise, was, “I thank you and receive the blessing.”

Though I look younger than my age, I am no longer mistaken by anyone as a child. But when I received each of those blessings, I was not offended by the wording. Whether I am 40 or 60 or 80 years old, may I always be a child of God, and never too old to notice and receive His blessings!

Noticing the blessings is a lot easier when we hear the words said directly to us. Yet, even if such words are not said directly to us, blessings are spoken all around us every day, if one’s heart will have ears to hear.

So see the genuine smile on a neighbor’s face reflecting goodness…

And feel the wind slip over your skin, reminding you of the gift of life in your lungs…

And hear the sound of a child squealing with laughter where she sits nearby…

And look up to view sunlight in a hundred finely-graded hues, whipped across the sky in glory…

In all these things and more, hear the words in your heart: “Bless you, child.”

And receive each blessing with thanksgiving.

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Looking back on themes covered in the first eight months of this year and looking ahead to 2019’s remaining weeks, I want to usher in this final, dual focus of receiving blessings to be a blessing with a new poem. I hope it will encourage you today.

Before and Behind (a poem of gratitude)

I couldn’t be blessed until

I knew I was loved. Really

Loved

For who I was and am

(And will be).

Then, the patches on my soul

Were sown, tight

And the reserve of that love

Filled me to overflowing.

I couldn’t be blessed until

I knew I was known. Really

Known

For who I was and am

(And will be).

Then, the scars laced ‘cross my soul

Were soothed, smooth

Because the love had not evaporated

With the knowing.

I couldn’t be blessed until

I knew I was seen. Really

Seen

For who I was and am

(And will be).

Then, dormant seeds inside my soul

Were awakened, green

To sprout as they were

Always meant to.

I couldn’t be blessed until

I knew I was heard. Really

Heard

For who I was and am

(And will be).

Then, a melody surrounding my soul

Was absorbed, sweet

With acceptance of that clear

And ancient truth.

No, I couldn’t be blessed until all these things

Finally occurred to the soul of me.

Then, with eyes open wider, in the echoing song,

I saw I had been being blessed all along.

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In this final post about shining, I want to share a brief thought and a short, related poem.

The thought:

True shining is born when we are what we are created to be and we do what we are created to do. When those two factors dwell together in a person’s life, genuineness and warm peace are sure to result.

The poem:

Solaris

On the fourth day

He made

Lights to shine and guide.

The greater,

A star so near it would be our sun,

Began to burn,

To do its work.

“An assignment or an existence?”

We may now ask

While sitting, warmed in its ancient rays.

Can the two, by design, be separated?

Why

Would we try?

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Today, I was thinking about the concept of shining, and for some reason the adjective resilient came to mind. So I did a little hunting. “(Of a person or animal) able to withstand or recover quickly from difficult conditions” was the first meaning listed in the online dictionary. In the etymology notes, it said this comes from the Latin root, meaning “to leap back.”

There is something about this word that should particularly appeal to members of my contemporary culture. Not only are Americans generally know for our future-focused, independently-formed outlook on development and improvement. We are also, now more than ever, attracted to and driven by what is instant, painless, and doubtlessly positive.

By all accounts, then, a resilient person should be admired, our ideal. So does it follow that the person who cannot spring back at all is a hopeless case, or that the person who cannot spring back quickly is not worth our patience, compassion, or company? And even if a person does spring back quickly, what if they dare to admit that what knocked them down has changed their life forever and they recognize it will never be the same again? Is resignation to a new view of reality a sign one is not really resilient?

Here is where shining, persevering, and being resilient intersect in my mind.

Sometimes shining the light of Christ means giving another a hand when they are struggling to get back up via their courage and faith that have taken a beating. Sometimes it means respecting their “new normal” and respecting the time it takes for them to adjust to that new normal. Sometimes it means choosing to love those around us who would be dismissed by others, simply standing by the hurting ones because true love is patient.

And sometimes being like Christ means facing our own trials and mistreatments and dark nights of the soul with all the emotions and questions that are human while we continue to put one foot in front of the other. Being real without giving up.

We are told, after all, to look to Him as our example: the one who sweat blood when He was under duress, the one who sighed in exasperation when others simply didn’t get Him, the one who went on a cleansing rampage of rightful anger, the one who withdrew when He was exhausted. The one who was swallowed in a dark tomb for days until He was called forth to shine, brilliantly, with the morning sun.

In all these things, He was not faithless or slow or bad.

Just because one does not spring back in an instant, that doesn’t mean one will not spring back at all. And just because one springs back in a changed form doesn’t mean the end result is wrong or a loss.

In truth, perhaps that is when we will most fully and brilliantly shine, as we never could have before.

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The past couple of nights, a moon like this one has hung, low and brilliant, in the clear evening sky as I have driven home from various tasks. Reflecting on God’s faithfulness in every moment and our struggle to understand what it means to shine in challenging times, I now write and share this short poem.

Mirrors

I thanked the sun for warming my day,

Asked it to never go away.

But it did. Replaced by a circle of stone

Gracing me: cold and alone.

At the night stretching on endlessly

And the rock hanging over me,

I shook a fist. And I railed hard against how

The sun was light years away now.

Then a whisper rode to me upon the wind,

A timeless message sent:

“The sun is shining in a different form

And this light also warms

The heart which trusts a reflection bright

In the darkest of nights.”

So I lifted my face, set down my fears,

And reflected radiance in tears.

“I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.” Psalm 34:4-5

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“You are the light of the world… Therefore, let your light shine before all men that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” ~ Jesus (Mt. 5:13-14)

I was invited to shine. But it was not specified at exactly what intensity.

That’s good. Because this little light is not equal to the same type of shining every day.

And that’s okay. Because the people around me, both known and new, may need different types of light.

In that light, here is a prayer for all followers of Him.

Lord Jesus,

You call us to shine. Let us choose to do so from a willing heart.

When another’s heart is bathed in sorrow, let us be a quiet lantern hung by their side, silently and warmly present for them.

When another is searching, weary, doubting, or weak, let us be a candle burning in a window, welcoming and patiently waiting.

When another is trying to rise above troubles and trials, let us be the gentle evening sunlight that works its way through thick clouds after an afternoon thunderstorm, cheering them on until they see Your rainbow.

And when another is overjoyed, let us be brilliant sunshine echoing their praise and delighting in the gift of goodness.

In all these things, let us be more than simply nice, far more than thoughtful. May we be eclipsed in the light of You so You are the One who blesses because it was really You who was shining all along.

Amen.

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The Light Sees and Knows (a poem)

The light was warm — just warm enough

To melt the frost, to dry the rain.

Dark clouds cleared as sunlight slid down

These phantom lines of hidden pain.

There is a rainbow high above

Though I cannot see with these eyes.

But I will let the light seep in

And wait with hope for bluer skies.

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When I light a candle to make my kitchen more comfy, I don’t always follow the directions. Directions? For candle–lighting? Yes. According to most candle manufacturers, I should trim the wick before lighting and relighting.

I didn’t understand why until I lit an extra long wick and had a smoking candle putting off black grime into the air. Being an observant person, I decided to comply the next time. But I trimmed the wick too closely, and after that it was nearly impossible to light that candle so the flame would actually stay lit and not just flicker out.

Some people say the way to make room for illumination and true enlightenment is to ignore all thoughts and feelings, to completely empty oneself so that we think of nothing and feel nothing (at least nothing negative, anyway). Doing so will provide room for something higher to inhabit us. We are simply to be and all else will fall into place, perfection eclipsing us in the silence of minimalism and simplicity.

Perhaps my use of the phrase “be illuminated” implies that I agree. Just be and the illumination will come; we have no hand in it, God does it all.

But the irony and contrast in my mind lies in the fact that the illumination process for the follower of Jesus is not a passive “be” but an active one.

We must choose daily to want to be illuminated.

We must choose daily to lay our worries and concerns down at His feet.

We must choose daily to trust Him with our pain and questions and doubts.

We must choose daily to lift up open hands and an open heart to Him so we may receive and reflect His light.

We must choose daily to invite Him in, not so that our thoughts and feelings disappear, but so that they align more with His thoughts and feelings.

We must choose daily to recognize our hate and our limitations so we can humbly request they be cauterized by the flames of Love and Grace.

Do these choices require a stillness and a receiving? Yes. Do they also require an openness and a sense of cooperation? Yes.

Perhaps these are the ways He keeps our wick trimmed to just the right length so we are ready to be lit at anytime.

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Three Lights: A Parable

There was once a grandfather who worked diligently to make a gorgeous paper lantern to hang in front of his house for a festival, to welcome his family home. Years of experience had taught him how to set the dimensions just right, so the small flame inside would not be near enough to light the vibrant sides on fire. He handled the delicate paper with equal care, fastening it without a wrinkle or tear. And when the happy day came and his lantern was illuminated, his relatives stood near it and remembered happy celebrations of the past.

There was once a glassblowing artisan who decided to attempt a particularly exquisite (and incredibly challenging) design. If successfully completed, it would yield a wonderous top for a wedding gift to his bride: the chimney of an oil lamp for their new chamber. He applied all the skills he possessed, but just as the work in progress was reaching a most critical formation point, he saw a vital part beginning to slip. In a split-second, going on instinct, he knew he could save it if he used his hand…but that using his hand would likely mean a severe burn–or worse. Yet, he didn’t give it a second thought. His hand shot forward to save the piece, a sacrifice which eventually yielded the perfect result. Two months later, when the chamber was softly illuminated and he led his sweet lady into that space for the first time, she spied the lamp and joy radiated from her smile. The artisan’s heart turned over, and he felt the fresh scar at the base of his hand, knowing he would do it again for her.

There was once a potter who made humble lamps of clay and some fine pottery besides. One day, as he was walking to his shop, he came across some boys who were playing in a trash pile. They had picked up a large bowl with a lovely blue and gold pattern on it and were throwing it on the ground repeatedly, smashing the chunks into smaller and smaller pieces. He chided them for the destruction and disruption they were causing and drove them away. When he looked down at the fragments now littering the ground, he recognized the piece; he had made it on commission for a woman in the neighborhood years before. It crushed his heart to know that someone would crush one of his most intricate pieces, for no other reason than just the sake of a temporary thrill. But then, he had a marvelous idea. He gathered up what bits and slivers he could find, and he carried them carefully back to his shop. Then, after forming a new lamp from fresh clay, he pressed the broken pieces into the sides of the lamp to form a mosaic pattern. And later, when that lamp was ready to be used, he decided not to sell it. Instead, he took it home and set it on the dining table. When it was illuminated, the family gathered around to enjoy sweet fellowship. And they all exclaimed over how the dazzling reflection of the light off the gold flecks in the broken pieces made it the most beautiful lamp they had ever seen.

In truth, the grandfather and the artisan-husband and the potter are all the same person. And the work they have made and remade will always bear their mark of beauty when illuminated.

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