What Dad Would Tell the World - One of the last conversations between a father and his daughter.

Dad and Mom the first day He checked into Stanford on July 17th

 Most who read this blog know that my father has been fighting leukemia for the past seven months.  On Jan 25^th that fight ended and Dad found himself at home in God’s love embraced by Jesus …for real and forever. Yesterday we paid tribute to his life.  Some have asked if I would share what I shared at his memorial service.  The following is what was shared.

On January 9, I sat down with my dad and asked if he could tell the world anything, what would it be?  He said three things…

“Following Jesus doesn’t always lead us to a place where we want to be.”

In fact, I noticed a Lenten devotional from last spring in His bible that said as much.  It seemed God was preparing him before he ever knew he’d be taking this journey. 

It’s easy to assume if we follow Jesus and do what’s “right” that it will lead to a “blessing” we expect.  The truth is my dad was angry about cancer at first, and the way it was stealing his life.  He felt cheated and so did a lot of us. There were many dark days.  Yet, through a disease that was taking my dad’s life far sooner than he wanted, he was learning the “blessing of following Jesus was actually Jesus… not necessarily good circumstances. And the gift of following Christ was not his presenTS wrapped up in neat little bows set pristinely upon a shelf. Rather, it was his presenCE that comes near when everything else goes dark and life begins to unravel those pretty bows and burst out of our tidy boxes. I suppose that’s why he also said to me during the same visit,

“Michellie, Don’t fall too in love with the world. Wear it loosely.”

Dad was beginning to understand how his despair (and ours) is often rooted in our commitment to the very temporal and unpredictable things of this place called earth.   We strain after our dreams and demand our rights.  We spend time climbing the corporate ladder, and dusting off old trophies.

But loosening his grip on those things allowed my dad to surrender himself to the story God was writing. He encountered God in that surrender even when the journey did not lead to a place he “wanted” to be.  In the struggle, he found the blessings and goodness of God.  It showed up in the presence of friends who stayed by him as he weathered these last few months?  It sometimes appeared in the night as God brought a company of heavenly hosts to hover and attend him in his fear.  It showed up in care-givers who gently came along side to comfort his pain.  It showed up in strained relationships now made whole. And that was a big deal to him.  My dad said one more thing that day…

He said, “I wouldn’t let lousy relationships go unattended.”

"I wouldn’t put off conflict.  I would have been less angry.

I would pick relationships over everything else and I would do it more."

I asked what everything else was and he said, “My rights, my expectations, my ideals, my pride.  There is never a conflict so big that it should eclipse the relationship or our ability to love in it.  Never.” 

My dad didn’t say this because he always got it right.  He said it because he did the heart work when he got it wrong.

Lastly, as I consider the eternal home my dad now enjoys, perhaps if he could say anything to us now, he’d tell us how complete and beautiful it is – that what seems incomplete to us now here on earth, is  already made whole in eternity; and God’s promises are all true - every one of them.  He’d tell us God is gloriously good, and how he is at home in His love - a love that is every bit what we’ve imagined, even more!  He’d invite us to taste it, to trust the journey and know that even when it takes us down paths we’d rather not travel, chances are it’s in those dark places where we will find God in the way we’ve always longed to know him. 

Valley Storms

To be completely honest, I struggled over how to write this blog post.  It is adapted from a old journal entry and every time I took it out of the “first person experience” for this blog, it lost a good part of its meaning and sounded like rhetoric…so I didn’t.  I don’t write it this way for consolation or sympathy but in hopes of putting voice to what I know is common to us all.

 

“I hope that you have had a blue-sky kind of day, even if it’s snowing.”

My friend sent those words as a greeting recently.  I honestly don’t know if she meant it literally or figuratively …probably both.  Her words struck me and were deeply meaningful.  I live in a part of California where a 90 minute drive east would bring me right into the snowy Sierra Nevada Mountains;  and a drive westerly for about the same amount of time,  would tumble me straight onto the sandy beaches and blue skies of the coast.  BUT I live in the valley.  It’s the in-between place where the clouds collect from the coastal ranges and pass through as they make their way up the mountains to drop their snow.  Winter here often looks drizzly, gray and foggy with the occasional warm day brining a sunny respite. However, when those respites hide themselves, it is not unusual for families to take a Sunday drive and “get above the clouds to find some sun for the day”.  After all, the soul needs it.

I’m finding myself in a soul-season that feels a lot like winter in The Valley.  Circumstances seem to be piling one upon the other like collected clouds between mountain peaks, and struggle falls like rain?  How does one have a blue-sky kind of day when the grey hovers so ostentatiously?  I don’t really want to read another verse about trials building perseverance and perseverance character, and character…blah blah blah.  I want to escape and take my soul on a Sunday drive to find some sun…But where?

I know that Isaiah reminds us to put our down-cast soul into the hopes of God (Ps 42).  And I know that, “He keeps track of all our sorrows, and has collected all our tears in his bottle, recording each one in His book.” (Ps 56:8).  Maybe the light dawns as we go limp for a while and weep, letting the clouds of our soul drop their tears, and perhaps the blue-sky kind of day comes about while we sit in the drizzle of the rain, held by the One who alone keeps track of it all….
 

… Maybe the best thing we can do at times is just sit somewhere in the valley, between the blue-sky and the snow, and let it rain. 

Will trials build perseverance?  Yes, if I stay in the trial and let God do his refining work in me.  That’s how perseverance leads to character; and the sheer amazement of that actually happening builds hope. And hope lifts our eyes above the clouds to see the abundant resources held in heavens courts awaiting our appeal.  (Rom 5)

If we don’t know how or what to pray, it doesn’t matter. He does our praying in and for us, making prayer out of our wordless sighs, our aching groans. He knows us far better than we know ourselves,… and keeps us present before God. That’s why we can be so sure that every detail in our lives of love for God is worked into something good. - Romans 8:26-28

So if you find yourself longing for a blue-sky kind of day even if it's snowing outside, let it rain a bit.  Trust that the Spirit will hold you before God and work out the details, at His ready the clouds will clear, making Hope's harvest sure.

 

The Crush

a continuation from previous posts....

"From the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” – Luke 6:45

 When grapes are harvested they go through a process called crushing.  That’s when grapes are picked and crushed, allowing the juice to be collected.  As this season of silence continued on with God, there was introduced within me a “Crushing”. 

Through various circumstances that seemed to pile pain upon pain, God was allowing a weight to press into my soul like a mighty crush.  My heart felt like it was in a vice-grip! It was inescapable and remarkably difficult.  I wanted to run far, far away from this slow, methodical pressing.  As soon as one circumstance would give way, another would roll in without mercy.  Many of the circumstances that offered such renderings involve other people and as such, I cannot disclose many details.  Suffice it to say that there was a significant loss of friendship, reputation, and...well... pride.  Combine that with four years of intense insomnia, the passing of several loved ones, and a marriage  that was feeling the strain of it all (Much of these dynamics were shared experiences with my husband.) and you have for one fierce crushing!  I suppose many of you reading this have experienced something similar at times. 

When grapes are crushed usually parts of the leaves and stem are mixed in.  That means it's messy and not very pretty.  It takes a while to get “pure” juice, and by “pure” I mean the flavors are balanced and allow for some of the other elements to remain.  At first I did not like the juices that began to flow from this crush.  They were sour and full of sediment, but Psalm 51:17 gave me hope.

“My sacrifice, oh God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.”

I had to learn to trust that in this broken place - stems, leaves and all, God was accepting me. It was actually "more pure" to let the sediment flow to the surface.  Something tender and endearing happened as I embraced the sediment.  They were the remnants of something once loved...now shattered. It was "sacred-sediment" ...Only a fierce crush could pour forth such a response, because until then we don't pay much regard to our broken places and we believe we can manage them fairly well and keep them hidden.  Crushes force the hidden to the surface and sediment seemed to spew forth from me like a timed sprinkler!  I was often caught off-guard by my responses or thoughts.  Where was all this coming from?  As I was pressed and crushed one thing became clear...the only thing that can come from a grape are the juices that are held within.  “From the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.”...

As my heart poured forth in unrestrained words and thought God was near.  He held every prickly stem and bitter seed that made itself known.  He gathered my tears and carried my sorrow.  I can't honestly say I believed it at the time, but looking back I know it is true.

Martin Marty said,

“Brokenness and wounding do not occur in order to break human dignity but to open the heart so God can act.”

Through this fierce "crushing", God was opening my heart...