I am old enough to relate to this song

Larry Curly Moe and a man with a last name that starts with a “K”

I realized after last night that we really are messy and broken and scared people. The FoxNews Debate!  Yeah!  I actually have seen some folk much more messed up than I could have expected.   I listened again because the early morning news caught me by surprise before I could get the channel changer in my hand and crammed it down my throat again as they played a few clips of the Three Stooges on stage with a fourth quiet man whose last name they tell me starts with a “K”.  At least that’s how I felt before I quickly changed the channels.  Larry, Curly and Moe screaming at each other in the most presidential way convincing each other as  toddlers trying to yank the toys out of the other’s hands as they pretended they were the great hope of America next four years.  . Pleeeaasssseeee!  Military Leader?  Presidential Models? Respected by the world?  Are you serious?  We wallow in the furry as I see it of the last seven years and now look at the possibility of being led by a group of liars and children on all sides of the political spectrum from and independent billionaire with few answers to the state of the supposed “Union” to a human being who has spent the last pile of years doing nothing but promoting herself.  You wonder what any of them have done to demonstrate the validity of their “existence” except to provide for themselves.  It’s tough being human to start with.  I struggle with the consistent way we all drive our own ship without any concern for our neighbor.  What could a Jewish Socialist, a lying arrogant lawyer, three monkeys from the zoo on stage last night, and this quiet fellow whose last name begins with a “K” do for this country?  Maybe we should elect their “handlers”.  I am terribly bewildered this morning as to how a free American could vote for any of these offerings to the “highest office in the world”.  Can we remove them from the running and then shake the container again and see if anyone else can “fall out” with the strength and stamina to lead this amazing blessed nation?

I have always been around people who have faith.  Maybe my struggle at times is I would love for the world to meet our Savior instead of our candidate.  This Jesus I met at 11 years old has changed more in this world than any debate ever did.  He doesn’t talk about what he was going to do.  He just did it.  He actually “gave himself” as a sacrifice to the world.  He healed.  He fed.  He gathered a group in community around him.  He died for their sins as the Bible describes.  (…and yes, I actually believe the narrative of Scripture) and I have seen him change my life.  It seems to be the one consistent witness of “change” to which I can testify.  He doesn’t have to tell you what he plans to do, even though the Bible clearly is on point of everything past and present, and I can be confident that if he hit it on those two that something about the future brings hope to me.  If the Scriptures are true, and I believe they are, then one of these glorious days Christ will rule and we will be done with the smoke screen of political stink that arise out of the cesspool of political debate.

Then I am forced to examine the goofiness that clutters my own steps and remember that I do a lot of talking as well.  I am a believer.  I am in love with Jesus.  I know the Sunday School answer to a lot of things.  I have it down pat.  I can posture with the best of them.  Somewhere in the middle of it all still rises the thought “…take up your cross and follow me…” Some days I wish they’d cut that little phrase out of The Book.  I get uncomfortable when the One who loves me most causes me to confront my own mess. In my heart I am glad I can talk about Larry, Curly, and Moe.  It makes me feel so much better about myself.

I just remembered that great question asked by God recorded in the Bible.  Have you considered my servant, Job?  That was God in a conversation with the Enemy himself, Satan.

Have you considered my servant, Jim?  What if God had that conversation with the Enemy about me?  Maybe my stage this morning is a bit different than the one last night.  And you don’t need a crowd with the Lord of the Universe is doing the questioning.  I am certainly glad that “grace and love bat last”.  Maybe the Liberty Mutual Commercial was right: Maybe we should research that a bit more.

He’s trying to get to church one more time…

He is an old “church going” Methodist gentleman.  To do a “Google Search” of his name let’s the world that he has something to do with Twin Church Road and a unit number.  Something about Houston and San Antonio.  An engineer at a power company in Texas if my memory serves me right and somehow by God’s grace ends up in Florence – across the street.  He was one of those come on over and sit on the tail gate of his truck and listen to old farm tales kind of story teller .  When the conversation would take a right turn at some road that leads to the past he would describe to me tales of farming, and a father shoeing a mule, and tobacco.  A God, Home and Country guy, he was!  He was quick to let you know that the American Flag meant something to him and the one that occupied  1600 Pennsylvania Ave should be able to salute willingly the flag that would cause a tear to well up in his eye every time he’d hear the National Anthem.  He is a rare find in the world of “normal”.  OK, I’ll admit I agree with Gene, he is like a father to me.  His ability to listen and then just dole out old fashioned wisdom is a powerful trait of this man with “… hoary head…” which as the Book that never lies calls a “crown of splendor” found in the way of “righteousness”.   He loved his family and his church family.   Sickness and family were the only thing that could interrupt him on Sunday Morning.  I think every morning the rooster took his cue for Mr. Graham not the other way around.  He’d back that car up out of the garage and aim Kathleen, himself and  it  toward Central Methodist.  That’s what “good people do on Sunday”.  I am certain that should I go to the church house and ask, they’d be able to tell me where he sat each week.  He really was “good people”.

Outside of his family, his pride and joy was across the end of my drive way.  He worked hard keeping his house and yard in proper condition.  He’d sit in the carport and wait and watch.  You could throw your hand up to him and he’d wave back. Slowly stroll up his driveway, set the tailgate down as it became the “counselor’s couch”, “political stump”, “a bench for story telling”, and often a place where you could catch one of his “prime time rants” about something going on in our country.  He was an engineer of immaculate detail.  Before he set his task to overcoming prostate cancer, he and his wife would travel.  It would take him almost two months to get through telling you about the trips.  Detailed?  Oh my my my my my… He wouldn’t miss a point. Every time I saw him, I’d want to go across the street and allow “time to stand still” as I’d put my ADHD in neutral and “sit a spell” and was I ever spell bound by this old sweet country gentleman.

I got a call yesterday.  “Jim, this is Carol…”  I instantly knew who it was.  I instantly knew “who” it was about.  I didn’t pick my friend.  We found each other.  A Divine joy of “living across the street” from Mr. Graham and my heart fell in love with him instantly.  We were friends and I was not ready for this interruption.  No one asked me if this worked for me.  It seemed as if Someone needed to go back and reassess.   I hate having to deal with the messiness of the human condition.  Obviously Someone didn’t ask me.  For some strange reason I thought he’d live forever.  Carol didn’t want to make the call any more than I wanted to take it.  However, at his request she called.  I immediately made my way to his bedside at the hospital as I will do again this morning.  There he was, that grand stately statue of a man weakened by the loss of blood yet thankful for the men and women who had donated the ten units he had yesterday.  His face was alive and his spirit strengthened by the precious gift from others.  Every time I see someone donating blood, I will be a bit more thankful.  This man asked me about my family.  Can you imagine that?  I answered him obviously to his satisfaction and he started rehearsing his story for me.   My heart sank as he told me that Dr. Spurling and Dr. Pavy had described to him how that they had done all that is medically possible and all that Mr. Graham would allow them to do.  Sometimes radiation takes no prisoners.  In his typical E. F. Hutton way, I listened to his story longing for instruction.  He was captured by this hospital bed which will be in a few days his next to final resting place.  He would have, as he said to me,  no more of this “living on somebody else’s blood”.  This worn out gentleman said he had enough. It is time for him to go home.  I am beginning to believe that the closer you get to that moment the more homesick you become.  This 87 year old giant told me he wanted to have a graveside at Indiantown, a rural unincorporated village in Williamsburg County.  I’ve heard a lot of stories about Indiantown.  I remember the day he asked me to do his funeral.  He planned everything he did with such minute detail and was not about to let that one get ignored.  I would do anything for that grand gentleman. In a few days I will gather up my things and head to a small church cemetery in the country.

In a few days he will stop waking up to talk to us.  In a few days he’ll be homesick no longer.  He’ll be HOME!  There is a tear, mixed with the smile on my face. In a few days I will join his petite beautiful wife, Kathleen, as we, again, prepare to go to church, one more time.  We will lay his body to rest.  However, he will occupy a living place in my heart.

Today, I will go and sit.  No tailgate.  No truck.  A hospital chair.  The same gentle giant… and I will listen and bathe in the presence of a friend.  What grace God gives to us!

There is a place…

“…a place where sin cannot molest – near to the heart of God…”  If you have never been loved then the thought of “getting close” scares the spit out of you, especially if the one you are asked to get close to is God Almighty, the Lord of the hosts of heaven as Psalm 46 describes Him.  It also says there that He is the God of Jacob and our refuge.

Let’s suggest for a moment that you had one of those relationships with your father and you described him as a big teddy bear and you talked about how safe you are in his arms, you stand a better chance of grasping what it means to be in a place where “sin cannot molest near to the heart of God”.  I realize that there is a vast number of people whose relationship to their father may not be health, could be toxic, and maybe even abusive.  How my heart hurts for you.  Missing out on the tender touch of a man is unfortunate.  Missing the big old hugs of a man who can be a reassuring force in your life causes you to have to “rethink” how you can be in a place with someone you love so much and there is no fear of being rejected and tormented… just loved.

I don’t know how it happens but there is a real strong bond between a daughter and her father.  Deborah had been very sick for a very long time.  Her blood pressure placed her in position where dialysis was not a choice.  Since the blood couldn’t be cleansed of impurities then from a human perspective death is the inevitable destination.  Marion was watching his “first born” 50 year old daughter slowly inch toward graduation day, when he turned to me and told me how just a few days prior to what would be her final trip to the hospital, she asked if she could sit in daddy’s lap.  The request was a “physical” impossibility, however, she knew that if she could just get there she’d feel safe and secure.  Marty Evaldi, sang “Tears are a Language God Understands” and I could see the tears of a father who wanted so bad to grant that wish.  Take that sick sick daughter and place her in his lap, “…a place where sin cannot molest…near to the heart…” of her father…

The words uttered by Jesus for the third time “…unto him” “Lovest, thou me?”… that wasn’t said as a preacher standing in a pulpit with the lightening bolts from heaven piercing him in judgment.  These were words uttered in the loving and tender place, yet as only close close people can stand.  In the center of Peter’s heart he was very devoted to the Lord.  The patient questioning of the Lord penetrates the heart until it is moved.  And he just as we responded.  The skill of the patient loving words of Jesus.  HE never questions until the right time.  Cornered in a place where lovers meet, a place where sin cannot molest, up near to the heart of God…lovers talk… and we realize that we love each other more than our words can describe…

I love because I have been loved like that… up close and personal.

 

Always Yes!

Question:  Do you love me?

Sunday School Answer:  Always yes!

How are you supposed to answer that question, especially knowing it came from Jesus addressed to Peter in time and space.  We know how Peter responded to Jesus.  We’ve read the story.  How many times has it been told and preached about from the pulpits and Sunday School classes.

His-story becomes “our-story” – you can’t get away from it.  Those words become in the soul of a person in love.  Perhaps, and I am taking a big risk just suggesting that you consider this story as more than a historical moment.  To suggest that somehow we climb into the rocket ship and blast oursleves back to that place, sit down and instead of it being Peter, we take front and center.  We are all glad that the teacher chose Peter to write about.  His life is front and center and some how in some sick way we are glad it is his chance to “shine” instead of me being called to the front of the class and reviewed by the teacher. Yet somehow that question never stops being asked by folk who love each other.  The voice was Jesus.  The respondant was Peter and we know the story of his response – or maybe his struggle with the reality of this love story between Jesus and Peter.

I love him.  I do.  That is the reality of my heart.  Now the question is for all the religious people (and we all do it, so don’t wig on me) whose noses are much longer than they admit, and want to stick in my business and who are careful to protect the world from seeing their “stuff” as well – how well are we doing as the white hurting heat of that question melts away the dross as we are asked to be honest in dealing with this questions evaluation.  I do love him.  It hurts to be honest.

Thank God He already made up his mind to love me.  That love is settled and no matter how much this old sinner wobbles and gives to the left or the right, I can always come back home into the arms of a God who loves and forgives and lavishes on His grace by the ladle full.  You’d think our Lover is crazy and off his rocker to give that much love to those who name the name, make the claim, and then walk different than they’d like to admit.

Thank God His answer to the question of His love for me is Always Yes!  When the One that loves me the most asks me to evaluate where I am in regard my love for him, I realize it is a good thing…a healthy thing… for the relationship continually finds healing and growth as we come home to him today!