Carol’s been gone two years today. It doesn’t feel like that long… I can still hear her in the kitchen, singing hymns with her morning devotions, or laughing… long conversations that now sound like one beautiful conversation that lasted for 6 years.

I wrote a poem for her a year or so before her stroke. I wish I could read it to her again.

I was attracted to the Spanish poet, Federico García Lorca, first because the singer-songwriter Leonard Cohen was a fan; second, because his poetry in his native language is masterful. From his poem “Arboles” (Trees), 1919, the phrase “la pasión perfecta” (perfect passion) became the seed thought for my poem.

For Carol

reaches for the Son
rooted
taut
upward
more light, more light!
and I reach too

reads out loud
fervid, engrossed
heavier stuff
lighter stuff
talk that edifies
and I talk too

reflects on injustice
millions… yes, really
oppressed, victimized,
destitute & desperate
tears from the heart
and I cry too

redeems the inevitable
looming uncertainty
why ask why?
it is what it is
having done all, to stand
and I stand too

revels in re-married-ness
amazing providence
bountiful grace
wholehearted harmony
perfect passion
and I revel too

from my book…

I loved teaching again on Sunday morning. I translated a portion of my recent message in English, based on Romans 15:20-21…

“and thus I make it my ambition to preach the gospel, not where Christ has already been named, lest I build on someone else's foundation, but as it is written, “Those who have never been told of him will see, and those who have never heard will understand.”” (Rom 15:20-21, ESV)

My week of personal visits has opened some doors that I was praying for. It looks like I will be busier with FaceTimes and Zooms than I have been. I desire to be closer to people in ministry in ways that support and encourage. I hope to promote the kind of deep unity Paul constantly preached about… in Romans and elsewhere. We need that to effectively continue our outreach in this spiritually dark world around us.

“eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.” (Eph 4:3, ESV)

One pastor had an interesting proposal. “Next time you come, why don’t you present something on leadership?” My gut reaction was, “Nah… I prefer a one-on-one format.” But actually, most of what I would say to each one would work just as well in a small group. So, when I get home from this trip tomorrow, I’ll try to follow through on his proposal. I’m already praying about when, and about how to keep it informal and properly focused. Spoiler alert: this will not be about honing mission statements, organizational skills, or pulpiteering. We need shepherds’ hearts, empathetic people skills, and Jesus-quality, hands-on compassion.

I was especially uplifted by two conversations over the last few days. They confirmed for me how God’s grace does keep us close through the years… sharing a common vision for ministry… but mostly recognizing how the Lord has knit our hearts together in him and his redeeming love… Not just uplifting, but humbling too.

How can I describe life here? Nothing will replace you actually being here with me for a season, but here’s an inkling… Late August in Cancun is when life is too hot, too loud, too hectic, and traffic is way too slow… background noises everywhere, always, never quiet… in restaurants and other public settings. Heat melts checklist bullets like cheese in a fondue pot. Everything runs together, takes more time to complete, and leaves me drained long before I make it home. I have great respect for tamales. They are steamed under pressure until thoroughly cooked, and then they taste really great. Me? I just stink.

“For every high priest chosen from among men is appointed to act on behalf of men in relation to God, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins. He can deal gently with the ignorant and wayward, since he himself is beset with weakness.” (Heb 5:1-2, ESV)

Last night, I was invited to a question-and-answer evening with our “Venid y Ved” (Come and See) group in Cancun. With 24 people, it felt packed, but that was only half of the group. Two families missed out because of a serious injury to one of them in a car accident the day before. The ones that did come managed to make it in the evening, which they don’t normally do. They had tables and chairs set up, and coffee and pan dulce (sweet bread) ready for when we finished.

The venue made me feel like I had come home. We were used to that many people and more in our home on Sundays for many years.

Gustavo opened with a prayer, a chorus, and read this passage from the Bible…

Then he invited people to ask me questions about us or our ministry.

To be frank, it has been ages since I have been asked such perceptive questions in a church setting like this. I was moved by how quickly we were engaged in this discussion together, and how discerning they were…

• What were you feeling inside that moved you to be saved?

• How was the experience of being called to the ministry?

• How did you know where God was calling you to go?

• What was your biggest trial that you had to overcome?

• What should we do as a church when everyone is having problems and we see no way forward?

• What do we need to do to prepare for the future?

• What did you hope to do… what was ministry supposed to be like?

• Did churches take care of you?

After nearly an hour and a half, we finally got to the sweet bread. 🙂 A dear brother presented me with a gift of a new pair of huaraches. I felt humbled and honored. We hope to see them all again soon.

Afterward, we felt the irresistible urge to find some antojitos mexicanos (typical Mexican food), which turned into a great find. Even my granddaughter Kayleigh was a happy camper!

And we are just getting started. I have appointments this week with other people, and then I'll be preaching again on Sunday.

Thanks for reading… and for praying for our churches and families in the Yucatán Peninsula.

Yesterday, I preached in English… It’s been a while! I appreciated the invitation to present a message on a subject that is so close to my heart:

“and thus I make it my ambition to preach the gospel, not where Christ has already been named, lest I build on someone else's foundation, but as it is written, “Those who have never been told of him will see, and those who have never heard will understand.”” (Rom 15:20-21, ESV)

We celebrated my granddaughter, Kayleigh’s, birthday this month.

She will be accompanying me this coming Saturday (August 23) on my next family/ministry trip to Cancun. We will stay with my son and his family. Jeremy makes sure I get around to see key people and for preaching opportunities there. Oh, and I have a doctor's appointment, too.

Please pray for spiritual fruitfulness and no hurricanes, please (it is the season!)

Blessings…

“After this Paul left Athens and went to Corinth.” (Acts 18:1, ESV)

I prepared one message for the four venues I would be visiting, hopefully with a few distinctive emphases for each.

What a time to be alive! To be among the first to hear the news of the recently crucified and resurrected Savior… to be touched by the likes of Paul, Priscilla, Aquila, and Apollos… to feel the underlying humility that bound those strong-willed, visionary pioneers together… for the most worthy cause on earth.

Paul worked his way to Rome where he would die for his faith… Apollos walked through opening doors with his recently tweaked faith… Priscila and Aquila kept opening their home to their church family—in quiet, steadfast faith.

This time, I was privileged to be with our church family near Rancho Viejo. It is situated north of the city proper, an area that has been growing rapidly for years. It is not far from the ferry at Punta Sam that carries people to Isla Mujeres—part of the beautiful imagery of life on the “Turquoise Coast of Mexico”.

Idyllic, right?

Nope…

Everything changes as soon as you deboard the ferry and take the road south, back through town, and back to your safe, all-inclusive hotel. The road west skirts the city and takes you back south unless you plan on the 4-hour drive west to the city of Mérida.

This is the more “un-scenic” route. Not far from Rancho Viejo is Cancun’s old landfill… acres and acres of land turned into mounds of garbage, massive enough to be called hills. After years of stuffing too much garbage there, they covered it over, fenced it off, and moved on to bigger and better spaces. Now, it´s surrounded by housing projects. And, as demand and deprivation escalate, so does the number of people who have invaded the old landfill. It’s a desperate attempt to lay claim to a piece of something they can call their own. The really lucky ones find a spot close enough to the fenceline to splice into some electricity on the other side.

People don’t do this for fun. People do this because they have no choices.

Back at Rancho Viejo, We have a faithful group of believers—hardworking, committed to family, and committed to their church family as well. They consider themselves to be centrally located for the people who attend. This is their meeting place. The man leading the praise time is legally blind, but you might not catch on if you were just here for the song service. As is their custom, they have a thanksgiving time after the singing. They will take turns standing up to share what they are thankful to God for this week. It turns out to be quite a lot.

The spacious open area outside their meeting hall is being prepared for construction. Eventually, they hope the whole section can be walled in and roofed. Here, that means cement block, rebar, and concrete. I asked about where they were at with the funding. I also asked Pastor Jaime, since this was one of their outreach projects. The response did not surprise me. It’s the same as from the beginning: “We’ve got this Greg. The Lord will provide. We would never burden our missionary with this.”

I feel a sermon brewing on The Principles of Indigenous Missions. I think it’s an especially important subject for Americans who need to learn to shed their American-ness if they intend to come alongside people in other cultural and political settings.

Let’s joyfully surrender our lives to the kind of boots-on-the-ground, long-term commitment that Kingdom work requires… and that the people we are among deserve.

• Breakfast at La Orgánica is always grand…

• Jeremy took me to see our special friend, Delia… soon to be 93 yrs. old.

• Mother’s Day… I posted this on Facebook with, “We grilled for over 100 people. Facebook’s translation for Spanish readers: “We grilled over 100 people.” (Sometimes prepositions matter!)

• Andrea, Elías, Greg & his grandson Mathias at Alamos church

“For what is our hope or joy or crown of boasting before our Lord Jesus at his coming? Is it not you? For you are our glory and joy.” (1Th 2:19-20, ESV)

January 2019 - Our only trip together to Cancun was 3 months after we were married. One day, Jeremy and family took us to the Mayan archeological site of Cobá, in the heart of the Yucatan Peninsula. From there we stopped at Tulum, south of Cancun on the Mexican Caribbean coast.

Carol’s love for missions and missionaries was on display wherever we went. As I prepare for my trip this Friday, I am reminded of how she lived for the cause… loved the cause… prayed for the cause… gave of herself to the cause… and, even in her last years, generously supported the cause.

What we lived for… what I still live for… began with “pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest,” (Matthew‬ ‭9‬:‭37‬-‭38‬ ‭ESV‬‬), and ended with “Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation.” ‭‭(Mark‬ ‭16‬:‭15‬ ‭ESV‬‬)

After a very long pause, my trips to Mexico are back to the quarterly rhythm I had initially hoped for. I have been invited to preach in Cancun on Sunday, May 11th, and the 18th. I am preparing a message from Acts 18 for each church I will be with.

I’m hoping for the opportunity and stamina (for the extreme heat) to visit a mission that was started in the interior a few years ago under the ministry of Pastor Jaime and the Berean church in Cancun. I have not been able to meet them yet.

Please pray this trip will be fruitful, encouraging, and strengthening for all… and for me too.

Thank you.

Since I had two weekends to work with this time, I could be with Iglesia Bautista Berea, downtown Cancun, for this Sunday morning service. The top pictures show part of the group in attendance and me trying to choose my words carefully.

Pictures don’t reveal the spiritual warmth, heartfelt singing, God-honoring testimonies, and hospitality on steroids. They made a huge effort to put everything together, including all the tamales and tacos you could eat and Agua de Jamaica to drink.

With everything in place, Pastor Jaime opened the service a few minutes early. When it was my turn to deliver the message, I said it didn’t feel like a church service… it felt more like a family reunion—which it was. This work was started in 1982…, and several pioneers are still here. Precious memories!

Next pictures: I’m standing between Victoria and Santos; the other picture is of Jorge giving a testimony before I got up to speak. Santos has battled cancer for some years and, in recent months, with heart complications. He was released from the hospital last week, having been told there is nothing more they can do for him. He has been—and remains—rock solid in his trust of the Lord. I wish you could hear him share his story.

Jorge has been here a long time, too. We used to share our wedding anniversaries every March 21st. Our wives are in heaven now. He helps Santos with the church family that assembles in Santos and Victoria’s home in another part of the city. Among other things, he covers the message when Santos cannot. Jorge has always been that kind of brother and servant.

Paulina Balam and her family were pioneers, too. She was present in the morning service and went straight to her mother’s birthday party… 80 years old! Her Mom still lives in Popolnah, a pueblo on the border between the States of Yucatan and Quintana Roo. We met the family many years ago. Today, we have a church family in the pueblo. One more amazing story for later! I hope to visit them on my next trip.

We arranged to meet up after the service and make our way toward the airport to visit a very special person: Ceci’s husband, Gustavo. He had a major stroke several years ago. I believe he was about 48 years old at the time. Ceci did a wonderful job of caring for him at home, even while working full-time. Gus has been in a care facility since last August (options here are so limited). He remembered us all, and his face just glowed when he saw us. Getting to hug him was a highlight of this trip.

Rosy has been part of us since not long after our house church was going in town, the roots of Congregación Alamos. She and her husband were dear friends to Linda and me. We lost Miguel to Covid early in the pandemic… and it was a huge loss.

What can I say? My heart is still tied to people who have been part of me for decades, and that love will never die.

My flight out was Monday noon… to Dallas and then Portland, OR. My granddaughter Kayleigh was waiting to take me home. I was exhausted, ears plugged, dehydrated, hungry… and anxious to go back!

Cancun Jan 28, 8:50 pm - I’m in the middle of my fourth visit to Cancun since April 2024. It’s a blessing to be able to do this again. The obvious things got in the way for a while: the pandemic, Carol’s journey, my recovery, etc. Although it feels wrong to say they got in the way… They were merely part of our story when God was allowing/doing things in our lives that didn’t include this, which was more than OK.

My recent trips have included getting up to date with labs, x-rays, and doctor visits. Today’s appointment, hopefully, the last for this trip, was a follow-up on the osteoarthritis in my neck.

I still feel behind regarding family time, people to see, visiting the infirm, opportunities to preach, maintaining decades-old friendships, and sharing confidences to pray about.

Sunday, January 26: I preached in Congregación Alamos from Hebrews 10:9:

‘Does away’ comes from the Greek word ἀναιρέω (anaireō), which means to take away, abolish, or abrogate. Could there be a more potent way to say that the first (Mosaic Law, ceremony, feast days, animal sacrifices, tabernacle, and Levitical priesthood) is no longer valid, having been displaced by Jesus Christ, the perfect high priest, who was also the perfect sacrifice for sin? The new order is here to stay!

Lunch for my family (Jeremy, Bety, Mathias and me) with Jorge and Alejandra (Alamos pastors) was at Restaurant Monterosa, near the church… exquisite Yucatán style breakfasts. I had the Huevos Enmolados al Horno - Baked eggs in Mole sauce.

Monday, Jan 27—my birthday (75th)… a great breakfast at 100% Natural in downtown Cancun. I asked for the Huevos Venenosos (Poisonous Eggs). They were delicious and healthy, and I didn’t just survive the hot chiles… they made me stronger! It was a special time of catching up with a dear friend of many years who was involved in the church in our home, which turned into Congregación Alamos… God’s grace in action, year upon year.

Tuesday, Jan 28 - 7:00 am - Parque K’abah, the ecological park in the heart of the city. One lap around the inside perimeter is 1.2 miles. The natural jungle canopy keeps it cooler underneath in the early morning, then switches to suffocating heat and humidity if you stay too long. Early is better. I got in a few miles before Jeremy picked me up and took me home for a shower.

We had a 2:00 p.m. meal with Jaime and Julia at their house. They succeeded me as pastor of the Berean Baptist Church, the first church we started from scratch in downtown Cancun in 1982. We had lots of good stuff to share, and we were preparing for my message in Berean this coming Sunday.

Cancun traffic seems exponentially worse each time I visit, making travel time a more prominent issue when planning day-to-day activities.

The bottom line for now: You can’t imagine what it’s like to live here and try to minister here… until you live here and try to minister here yourself for an indefinite period. Can I ask you to really hear your Kingdom workers on the frontlines, especially those with a boots-on-the-ground, long-term commitment to people groups and languages you are unfamiliar with? Their perspective is worthy of your time.

The map reveals an outcome more than a beginning. It was roughly 1800 miles from our place of origin to McAllen, TX. From there, we would cross the border into Reynosa, Mexico. It was another 1500 miles—and a much harder drive—around the Gulf of Mexico to Cancun, just 90 miles from Cuba.

When you read Cancun, I can almost guess what you’re thinking. When I say Cancun, here’s what I’m thinking:

We were invited to use this family’s home for Bible study and outreach. Life on the growing outskirts of the city looked the same—looks the same—just a lot more crowded.

Fast-forwarding about 10 years, our season had changed, but not our mission:

Outreach: People need the Lord—the liberating good news of salvation by faith, not by works. Reaching out leads to drawing in… closer and closer together at the foot of the cross. Drawing in has to include into our hearts, our families, and our homes. We wanted people to see and feel Christian community—warts and all. And who doesn’t love authentic Mexican food?

Linda would have said something like, “We did it! Our dream was to live for something bigger than ourselves.”

Fast-forwarding another 20 years or so, my season changed again, but not my mission:

It’s not what’s missing in the picture—it’s who? This was Carol’s spot every morning. In the evenings, I would join her, sharing the footrest on her recliner. She enjoyed reading out loud, having spiritual conversations, and praying together. She also loved having people in for food and more of the same. We only had six years together, but what a memorable season it was!

Fast-forwarding to the present, my season changed again, but not my mission:

I know I’m not alone in my day-to-day experience of being alone. Part of what balances this experience is a sense of genuine usefulness in God’s kingdom. I’m calling this the Season of the Zoom:

Thanks to the pandemic, it’s part of my life now. The only thing better would be weekly visits from the people I Zoom with, which is impractical when we are states or countries apart. And, of course, people have to make their own coffee.

I also cherish the weekly one-on-one interactions with a few people in my house—no Zoom is necessary. Plus, people who come to my house get special treatment: I try to serve them a great cup of coffee.

I’m tempted to call them mentoring sessions, but that sounds like Greg’s dispensing something to others. Is there a word for mentoring when it’s a two-way street? I’m truly honored and blessed by the people I meet with—here and everywhere.

I’m a paying Zoom customer now. So, if you’d like to connect with me sometime, email me at gregsmith@email.com. I’ll send you a link… and it won’t cost you anything.

And it’s not just a Zoom season, it’s a family season first and foremost:

New Year’s Day dinner was at my house. I provided the space, they prepared the meal. I sliced a fresh habanero pepper, which turned into a memorable moment!

The Mexico side of my family will be here for two weeks in March. I have another trip planned for Cancun in the latter part of this month (January). It will be a 10-day trip… staying with family and connecting with people in our churches. Hopefully, there will be more home visits and less preaching this time.

I’d appreciate your prayers…

Rod Serling (remember Twilight Zone?) wrote a speech, A Most Non-Political Speech, delivered by Dick Van Dyke, on May 31, 1964, to some 60,000 people at the Los Angeles Coliseum—an evening called, A Witness for Human Dignity. Among the presenters was Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. The opening line: “Ladies and gentlemen, this may be the most non-political speech you ever hear.”

I want to paraphrase that opening line: “Ladies and gentlemen, this may be the most non-political blog I ever write.”

Our Reason for Being

The glory of God manifested in creation—in humanity… God so loved the world (κόσμος—cosmos). Love poured out through the blood of Christ once for all time—once for all people. Transported from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of light. Redeemed from sin, death, and judgment; redeemed to new life… freedom to breathe, enjoy, and walk in the light (not a geographical challenge, not just a daytime activity). Dreams reoriented to defer to the will of the ONE who bought us… Purchased for a new purpose: From self-serving to God-and-people-serving… From vagabonds to ambassadors… Our baseline: Communicating the Gospel of Jesus Christ—the invitation to be reconciled with God. It’s the message we have received from the ONE who bought us and is meant to be heard by EVERYONE.

So, we are in the world but not of the world… Citizens of the only kingdom that matters now, or will matter in eternity… Citizens now of HIS kingdom, whose rules for living mean a paradigm shift in our thinking and actions. With love, joy, and words of hope—for all humanity… Eyes wide open—facing the human condition common to everyone in the world… It looks like the narrow way… the only way open to us. This Way was lived out, then mandated, by the same ONE. It is outlined in The Sermon on the Mount in Matthew 5-7. His way is love, nonviolence, forbearance, humility, meekness, forgiveness, prayer for enemies, and the absence of mockery, insults, vengefulness, and reprisal—in our speech, in our actions, and even in our hearts… including in the face of threats, mistreatment, injustice, and, yes, even martyrdom.

Life would shrivel us; HE would enlarge us. Life would harden us; HE would soften us, make us tenderhearted, hospitable, empathetic, compassionate… If we ask ourselves, “Who is our neighbor?” we’ll get the answer right. Available, accessible, and always full of hope… awaiting “the days of those kings” … “And in the days of those kings the God of heaven will set up a kingdom that shall never be destroyed, nor shall the kingdom be left to another people. It shall break in pieces all these kingdoms and bring them to an end, and it shall stand forever” (Daniel 2:44, ESV)

The Great Disconnect

Add up all the ways we have not conformed to HIS teachings, and we get an inkling of how our witness has been compromised. The gap between what we know and what we apply happens in the heart. It’s always been there. When left unchecked, it overrides our best intentions and weakens our witness.

We may be better at noticing the disconnect in familiar surroundings, neighbors, and relationships or when we look in the mirror. When considering broader issues like the big picture, church history, nationhood, politics, patriotism, international relations, wars, genocides, immigration, famine, etc., we display a disconnect on steroids.

History reveals the dark underbelly of a “Christian” vision polluted by marriage to power and state—no exceptions. Where do holy wars, crusades, and inquisitions come from? When a “Christian” religion is imposed as a nation’s religion, beware. Protecting the integrity of a country will include keeping other people out—even though its borders are manmade and not of divine origin. What about the spin and symbolism invoked to assert its legitimacy? They’re not of divine origin, either. So, as this vision is imposed, intolerance, fearfulness, defensiveness, and aggression emerge.

Three fundamental questions:

1. Which kingdom has our allegiance?

2. How is our witness to people—any people?

3. How is our witness as part of the earthly nation where we reside?

βασιλεία (basileia) is the Greek word for kingdom—and God has one. It stands alone and above all the kingdoms of the earth. The kingdom of God cannot be reached by earning a spot there. We can’t buy our way in or stroll in just because we feel like it. “Unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God.” (John 3:3, ESV) Coming to Jesus: it’s a spiritual birth that transforms us. Our reason for being is radically altered.

So, where is our citizenship now? “But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself.” (Philippians 3:20-21, ESV)

At some point, we must choose: Whose kingdom do we represent? Which one will matter in eternity? Which one has our heart and our loyalty? Bodies transformed to be like his glorious body, power to subject all things unto himself… There is so much more at stake than who will occupy a government office for a few years.

Over forty years outside the United States—four years in Central America, the rest in Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula—foreigner, gringo, missionary, pastor—made us careful to avoid choosing sides in partisan politics. It would have drawn the wrong kind of attention to us.

Rumors about us would have quickly spread—as could happen even without substance. I recall a time when a local wanna-be ran for mayor in Cancun. He claimed to be a Christian and sought things for the betterment of his people—and himself. I was surprised one morning when I mentioned our home and church to someone. They replied with conviction and disdain, “Oh, I know where that is. That’s the mayor’s church.” Of course, we never knew the guy.

Even after being granted permanent residence status, we were still guests. By choosing a side in an election cycle, we would have alienated the other sides—and there were always a few. We would have looked like we had our hand out for material gain, just like the rest. But more importantly, doors for our Gospel witness would have closed for all the wrong reasons.

Well, now I reside in a temporal space known as the United States of America. I am a guest here as well. I dare not be partisan. That’s not why God has me here. I don’t have permission to alienate any people from an opportunity to hear the message of the Gospel just because I have a political opinion, espouse a conspiracy theory, or have my hand out for material gain, just like the rest.

Xenophobia is “an unreasonable fear or hatred of foreigners or strangers.” It’s an inevitable consequence of nation-building. We pigeonhole people by groups. Tagging people with demeaning labels becomes an art form. We dehumanize them. Sometimes, we go so far as to define a group as “The Enemy.” Even people who profess to be Christian end up acting like xenophobes. It’s an unbecoming trait in a follower of Jesus.

Maybe there is some spiritual blindness to blame. Nations—including ours—have been doing this to each other since the Fall. Historically, building walls has never worked well. Wanting to keep immigrants out seems hypocritical. Everyone here—except maybe the indigenous people we displaced—have immigrants in their family tree.

I am a citizen of a different kingdom. The one I belong to is governed by a set of rules that temporal nations care little about. Representing the Kingdom of God should look radically different. If we followed the Good Shepherd’s example, we would be uncompromisingly hospitable, welcoming, loving, shepherding, and constantly aware of our “Reason for Being.” Through us, people—even immigrants—will hear the Gospel’s invitation into the Savior’s rest:

“In that day the root of Jesse, who shall stand as a signal for the peoples—of him shall the nations inquire, and his resting place shall be glorious.” (Isaiah 11:10, ESV)

Bellicosity is “a warlike or hostile attitude.” It’s another inevitable consequence of nation-building. But for us, there is much more at stake than the health and defense of a nation. Earthly kingdoms are temporal—they always perish. As believers in Christ, we are citizens of God’s eternal kingdom—it will never perish.

Tying our Christian witness to a flag is a mistake. It’s not just an unholy marriage. It spawns a devastating witness around the world. Multitudes of people have an entirely unnuanced perception of the United States. Their reasoning goes no further than this: “The bullets, bombs, and rockets killing my people come from the United States. How can they say theirs is a loving god? Why would we want to know a god like that?”

Two glaring problems with bellicose measures regardless of how we justify them:

1. Violence always breeds more violence. By doing some of what we do, we guarantee it will come home to roost in our backyard—and on our heads.

2. Our underlying call to ministry is the antithesis of bellicose postures and actions. “Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.” (2Co 5:20, ESV)

Restoring Congruency

Congruency is “the quality or state of agreeing, coinciding, or being congruent.” Are we what we say we are? If we are serious about repairing the disconnect, I can think of a few avenues to pursue.

Our eyes may be on the wrong prize. We might be caught up in secondary skirmishes distant from the main theater of battle. “For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” (Ephesians 6:12, ESV) I doubt we will win much with weapons less potent than the Gospel and prayer. Plus, the victory we seek will be final, achieved without our help, and with the best outcome imaginable! “After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands,” (Revelation 7:9, ESV) I thought about wearing white robes now and stocking up on palm branches for daily use. But maybe I should wait until I get there.

Our eyes need to see the multitudes. No matter which people groups we look at—or where we see them—followers of Jesus ought to see them just like Jesus sees them. “But when he saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion on them, because they fainted, and were scattered abroad, as sheep having no shepherd.” (Matthew 9:36, KJV)

Back to Mr. Serling and the main point of his speech: "This must be first, the recognition, and then the admission—that the dignity of human beings is not negotiable.” His path to that conviction may have differed from mine, but our heartfelt conclusion is the same: Every human is worthy of dignity, fair treatment, and respect. His approach appears to have been as an optimistic evolutionary humanist. Some viewed the passing of the Civil Rights Act as another nudge up the ladder in humanity’s evolutionary journey. I think my reasons for recognizing the dignity of every human being are more compelling. That’s because of who God is, what he has done for us—for all of us—and his motive for doing so. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” (John 3:16, ESV) We are made in his image; we are redeemable because of the shed blood of Christ. Who does God love less than us? No one! All are to be the object of our compassion, ministry, and witness.

The sonnet on display at the Statue of Liberty should prompt us to reflect:

The New Colossus
By Emma Lazarus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Empty symbolism? Meaningless propaganda? Maybe we should display this sonnet on our public-facing church signs. Maybe Christians and patriots should want to.

And finally, a refrain from a song that, for me, evokes tears of empathy and heartfelt compassion for the stricken, the wailing, the victims, the disenfranchised, and the lost:

Oh whisper me words in the shape of a bay
Shelter my love from the wind and the rain
Nostalgia by Emily Barker

Isn’t that precisely what Jesus wants to do for people?

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Matthew 11:28-29, ESV)

A series of 10 "conversations" to help answer the question: How do we serve others in their valley of grief when we are stricken by tragedy in our own lives?

Suitable for personal reflection, one-on-one sessions, and small groups.

The link will take you to the first “conversation” in the series. You will see a "Next" button at the end of each post to carry you through the series.

Feedback and questions are welcome!

SHEEP WHISPERERS

I thought I had an original thought. But then I asked Siri about it. Yeah… wrong again.  Disappointing? Only briefly. It’s encouraging to know others want to be better at encouraging the sheep of their fold.

We, of all people, have a head start, no? We are already well-positioned to finesse our connecting abilities more profoundly than before. A pastoral heart and an empathic ear are not innate qualities. They are received from the Holy Spirit. These giftings are desperately needed today.

Endemic loneliness …

Have you ever been lonely? Loneliness is worse than a high-strung dog … always following me around … always needing to be in the same room with me … always whining in my face. The health articles we read repeatedly tell us loneliness is the #1 killer of people our age. There is no vaccine or pill for it.

Have you ever been with the lonely? One observation from the walk with Carol through her post-stroke journey is that the elderly are often undervalued, under-visited, under-included…, and neglected.

As debilitating infirmities overtake us, at what point does God become less caring? When do we become less valuable to him? I hope someone will care for me, even when I don’t remember who “me” is. God will remember who I am even if I won’t. He remembers who my afflicted loved one is, too…

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, Thou knowest, O God, I am thine!
Who Am I?
Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Poetic Insights on Personal Identity (Minneapolis: Augsburg Books, 2005, pp.8-9)

When immersed in our grief, it’s easy to feel useless. We don’t know what we could offer to others. The saying “misery loves company” is used to warn about people who would drag us down. I want to turn that phrase on its head: There are at least two things always at our disposal to come alongside others in their misery: We can spend time with them … we can commiserate with them. Commiserate means to express mutual sympathy with someone about a shared negative experience. Spending time means being in the same space with them… and not in a hurry.

John Prine sang his songwriting as no one else could…

You know that old trees just grow stronger
And old rivers grow wilder everyday
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say
Hello in there, hello
HELLO IN THERE, Album: John Prine, 1971.

Imagine a grieving shepherd reaching in with a hug and an offer of time together. Where could our grief journey be better put to use than in the deepest recesses of the valley of loss we’re already acquainted with? We love our flock enough even to revisit our own grief. We will purposely climb down into that valley again to come alongside another grieving sheep.

When is time spent with the lonely, the stricken, or the miserable NOT time well spent?

The art of spiritual conversation…

The subtleties of deep connection keep us on our toes, and our desire to be better at it grows. We stay willing to learn more on the subject. A book in my recommended reading list (see below) is titled “The Lost Discipline of Conversation.”

Beneath it all is constant watchfulness, almost intuiting the next question, recognizing when and how we’ve been granted permission to weave our way through the layers. To discover the realities behind the facade, lots of time and listening are required. Being quiet and patient is the default setting. It takes everything I've got, but it’s more exciting than exhausting.

While I’m intently listening… while someone is baring their soul, pouring out their misery, I experience a feeling of joy. It’s some combination of humbled, honored, and joyful… because someone I love trusts me to listen and to hear their story. They don’t need to hear my story as much as they need me to listen to theirs. It’s lightness and freedom because… I find joy in being trusted.

Celebrating deep companionship—The fruit of good sheep-whispering skills.

Just remember when,
Before we were lovers,
I swear we were friends.
LOST IN THE LIGHT

Yes, Carol, “before we were lovers, I swear we were friends.” Your companionship and deep conversation made me a better sheep whisperer. Your acceptance of what was to come next in your life came packaged in a beaming smile that was yours almost to the end.

Acceptance
nature points the way—
leaves float down quietly
why, oh why, can’t I?

-Carol's haiku

Reads to help reflect and refresh…

• Come and Welcome to Jesus Christ, John Bunyan, 1681.

• Gentle and Lowly: The Heart of Christ for Sinners and Sufferers, Dane Ortlund, Crossway, 2020.

• The Contemplative Pastor. Eugene H. Petersen. William B. Eerdmans, 1989.

• How to Inhabit Time. James K. A. Smith, Baker Publishing Group, 2022.

• The Lost Discipline of Conversation, Joanne J. Jung, Zondervan, 2018.

WRESTLING WITH EXPECTATIONS

Introspection…

How detrimental are the expectations we burden ourselves with? This gets complicated for me. Sometimes, I’m afraid my expectations are self-imposed. I’m weak and slow and stupid on a good day… now add grief to the mix! It’s hard sometimes to be sure I’m not acting on something I’ve created in my head. Am I truly in sync with reality… and especially with God’s expectations?

How do we define ourselves? Can we sort out when tradition or peer pressure has hindered a clear-headed approach to where we ought to be? Are we on course to be who God wants us to be for the remainder of our earthly journey?

Are our people being biblically realistic about what a shepherd is and does? Are any of their expectations hindering our healing and spiritual growth?

Anticipation…

We know what proactive looks like. Anyone who has come to Christ because they saw the future and chose to prepare for it demonstrates Spirit-fed wisdom. Yet, there appears to be a short circuit in our proactive-ness when it comes to other very legitimate, God-ordained expectations:

• What if we are suddenly left alone?

• What if we are suddenly incapacitated?

• If we are aging out like Moses, where is our Joshua?

• Do we have an inner circle of support in place today?

Just because we happen to be in ministry doesn’t make us strong enough to suck it up and move forward on our own. We’ve seen enough of the dark underbelly of leadership structures where authority becomes the impenetrable armor—the false front—of the guy at the top. How often has that sanctified machismo turned out to be a brittle facade over an empty shell? We need a network of intimate relationships we can default to in the midst of our own personal tragedies.

It will go better for everyone if we let ourselves be included in the flock as just one more hurting sheep among many.

Two Warnings…

Pulpiteer or Shepherd?

There’s that unspoken thing I dare not whisper, much less put in writing: Doubling down on our pulpit ministry will not prepare us for any of the above. Though not necessarily about choosing one over the other, we ought to judiciously consider both facets of our ministry.

The dilemma… We can be good in the pulpit without being good shepherds. We can be good shepherds without a pulpit, but being good shepherds might make us better in the pulpit. So, if I had to pick one, I’d shoot for being a good shepherd. Yes, it’s the harder choice. It requires more than a degree in pastoral theology. We don’t get this in school; a shepherd’s heart comes from the Good Shepherd, worked into our souls by the Holy Spirit. It’s not a vocation. It’s a gifting… a calling. Without it, we will hurt people more than we will help them.

If we’re given to hiding behind a pulpit ministry, we might be shortchanging everyone, including ourselves. The key ingredients for healing, regaining strength, and genuine shepherding are not found there.

The opposite of busy?

I was buying a few things at the corner store one morning. As I checked out, the owner asked what I was doing in Cancun. Without thinking, I replied, “I’m a pastor.” She sighed and said, “Ai, ¡qué tranquilidad!” (Oh, how peaceful!). My first thought was to inform her about what my life was really like. I laughed, but then I wept inside. She was wrong, but she should have been right. She was wrong about my life being tranquil; She was right about what it should have been.

Our Americanness tells us we’re lazy if we’re not staying busy. For biblical shepherding, the opposite of busyness is not laziness… it’s quietness—quietness of soul… of the sort that is restorative for the shepherd and foundational for the nurture of the flock. One author puts it this way: “Leisure is a quality of spirit, not a quantity of time.”

Transition: Hurting sheep need more than a pulpiteer. Tending sheep requires maturing in the art of spiritual conversation.

THE GOOD SHEPHERD AND GOOD SHEPHERDING

How does our communion with the Good Shepherd enable us to be good shepherds? We might think first about his focus on us. How does he shepherd us? How do we get out of his way to let him? He is always with us. He embraces, loves, encourages, forgives, draws us to be more like him, never gives up on us, and never lets go. Being on the receiving end of his shepherding ought to make us more like him in our shepherding of others.

How might we define the essence of shepherding? We should give ourselves permission to think about it … start at ground zero and build back carefully.

The essence of being a shepherd almost begs for redefinition in this performance-based, tradition-bound culture in which we’re immersed. I’m not a fast learner, but I think people like me might have an edge. Living in a different country, culture, and language for 40 years forced me to think outside the American box I grew up in. Transitioning back here after that much time has not been easy. You do a lot of stuff here that you assume to be foundational and universally accepted. I often see the same stuff as not necessarily normal… sometimes idiosyncratic—not to say weird. (A bit more about this in the next section…)

I want to define the essence of shepherding as watching Jesus do in others what he is doing in us. For starters, it was never meant to be about us in the first place. Our losses are not meant to subtract from our witness for the Gospel. On the contrary, God means for them to mature the uniqueness of our witness as we touch other lives with our calming trust in him, our undying hope, and our full assurance of salvation through the Lord Jesus Christ.

Which direction are we pointing? Nostalgia is “a longing/yearning/pining for the past.” We probably all know people who end up stuck in their swamp of grief…wallowing… shut down. Their loss seems to be their stumbling block. We have a decision to make here. We can nurture the nostalgia and long for something—or someone—we lost. Or, we can embrace our God-given challenge:

The work of the Spirit would convert our swamp of nostalgia into fuel for our nurturing of others.

We are an accumulation of life experiences, losses, and pain that make our witness unique. Our words can be meaningful to others in their seasons of loss—not just for assuaging their sorrow—but also for helping them see that their grief journey has a purpose… very much like ours. Everyone is called amid their grief to come alongside others who need the hope our Gospel brings.

Talk about mentoring and discipleship! Now, we have a true vision of disciples coming to maturity… of people finding their way through deep personal pain to a place of selfless ministry to others, of broken, grieving people finding renewed hope and usefulness in the Kingdom.

Is that not what the essence of shepherding should look like?

OUR WINTER OF REFLECTION

“All of humanity's problems,” Blaise Pascal said in 1654, “stem from man's inability to sit quietly in a room alone.”

Have we embraced the alone season? We shouldn’t put it off. We shouldn’t try to circumvent it. We have things to learn here that we will not learn elsewhere. The object of the exercise is to make the journey from alone to “swallowed up in an ocean of love.” I’m referring, of course, to the presence and fullness of God in our innermost being. The only way to deal with the aloneness is to stare it in the face in quiet solitude. We seek a dynamic, living experience of Jesus in our souls. We need to know we will survive without props or people to shore us up.

The Alone Season begins with reeling from the loss.

When Linda died, I was surprised by part of what I felt. Every life-altering decision had been made together, including coming to Christ and ending up in ministry in Latin America for 40 years. So now, Who is Greg without Linda? It was an unsettling moment of an unknown future combined with all options back on the table. It wasn’t a lengthy struggle, but it did take time to sort it out. I came away reassured that I still loved Jesus like I always had… even without Linda by my side. This was key to pulling my options back into a proper framework of Christ-centeredness that had always been integral to my life.

When Carol died, I was able to skip that step. However, I still reeled from the loss. I loved Carol, and, unbelievably, she loved me. It was true friendship… a level of camaraderie and genuine spiritual fellowship we never took for granted. She loved reading out loud. She was my cheerleader when I was writing or out running. Six years… it was a fantastic gift. What do I do without all of that now? The answer came back to me in words Carol spoke more than once when she shared our testimony:

“A man is not a solution. No man can fill the space in your soul. Only a solid relationship with God will do it.”

And for men, I would chime in with, “A woman is not a solution—for the same reason.”

The Alone Season comes with a silver lining.

A season of rest and recovery is almost forced upon us. In my case, the debilitating fatigue decided for me. We learn what too many refuse to know until they’re forced into a corner with no other option. It’s time to let go of some things. It’s time to delegate… something we should have thought of long before now, anyway. It’s time to back off, at least for a while. It might even be an excellent opportunity for a sabbatical. Who will not understand our need for a season of recovery and refreshing? We might discover joy in unexpected ventures through the providential hand of the “God of all Detail,”… even in old age.

Not many of us have the right to criticize an octogenarian in the White House for resisting the idea of stepping away at an appropriate time, in a dignified manner, whether for a season of recovery or permanently.

What… are we afraid we won’t be missed? As my granddaughter might say, “Get over yourself.” We’re not indispensable. We had our season, such as it was. They will get on fine without us—or they won’t. Either way, our time to correct mistakes, redesign our vision, or change their direction will be over. We’ll be a picture in the foyer and a pleasant memory… until those who knew us are gone, too.

The Alone Season can bear precious fruit.

Carol's funeral was in October of last year. In the Pacific Northwest, our November days are short and dark. My early morning hours were in the dark, watching Molly the Cat next to the fireplace and wondering when spontaneous combustion might kick in. It was also where I got well acquainted with the aloneness again.

There is a crucial journey that starts here. The starting point was loss… which led to sitting by a fireplace in the dark with “ALONE” screaming in my ears (you see, alone is not the same as quiet… usually not even close)… I needed to move somehow from alone to alone and quiet (the hard step for me was getting quiet). It was worth the stretch, though, because now I was positioned to move from alone and quiet to quiet and not alone… discovering quiet communion with the Lord… just him and me, in the dark corner of a dark house. This is the dynamic, living experience of Jesus we all desperately need. It’s the only real relief and source of restoration for our souls. This restoring and deep refreshing will be the most valuable commodity we will have to offer as under-shepherds of Jesus’ flock.

A SYNCHRONIZED DANCE - Part 2

Again, there is never a single moment in life that is all bad or all good. Some elements of both extremes are always present. Our dance is in the middle—the center—of awful burdens and deep thanksgivings at the same time… in the now… and in the next now… ad infinitum. I try to remind myself what the bottom line is here:

When I have nothing—no strength, no will, no breath—is when I lack for nothing …  because I have Christ!

We rejoice in our weaknesses because now we know—deeply and experientially—what was always true: Jesus is our all… our only source of strength… our only hope. We lack for nothing… even in diminished health… even on our deathbed!

Grace wins the day…always. This means that our final journey home might look different from what others expect.

Maybe if we celebrate grace under duress rather than the illusion of total victory we will be less surprised and more prepared when illness and evil lurch into our lives, as they always will; and maybe we will be a braver and better people if we know we cannot obliterate such things, but only wield oceans of humor and patience and creativity against them. We have an untold supply of those extraordinary weapons, don’t you think? One Long River of Song, by Brian Doyle, Essay: ‘On Not “Beating” Cancer’, p. 102.

Our synchronized dance? “But let patience have her perfect work…” (James 1:4, KJV) One writer I follow, quoting from the tech world, says about James 1:4…

“It’s a feature, not a bug.” Rachel Starr Thompson

It’s a lifelong process. Not much in life comes to us when and whenever we want it. I always wanted a magic spray like soccer players use… laid flat, writhing in pain, 2-3 quick sprays from the magic aerosol, and they’re back on the pitch again.

No instant gratification. Instant gratification usually happens with things that come back to bite us. We’ll need that kind of patience (steadfastness) until we’re not here anymore. Healing, maturing, and restoration take a lifetime. There is no naming and claiming here. We’re not meant to forget, shed our pasts, and move on. We carry them purposefully as part of what feeds our interaction with the hurting people in our lives today.

No “happily-ever-after”—until AFTER. We should think about what “after” will be like.

Meanwhile, let’s dance …

A SYNCHRONIZED DANCE - Part 1

I’m always fascinated by a couple dancing when it looks like they’re just one entity. Our dance doesn’t look flashy to outsiders, but I’m fascinated by watching God’s people do our kind of dance in a way that looks natural. It’s more intricate and beautiful than a “Texas Hold ‘em” routine. Our unique dance is the dance of Christ in us—treasure in clay pots—utter weakness, dancing with absolute power and perfection.

It’s easy to slip out of sync… but the way back always beckons.

When a health crisis invades people’s lives, I hear things like: “We’re going to fight this battle together. Losing is not an option. We must fight. We must win. If this doctor can’t fix it, we’ll go to Hell and back to find one who can. And when the battle is lost, I hear: “Well, they fought bravely. We didn’t think they would have lasted as long as they did.” Sometimes it sounds like: “We were winning, but God didn’t show up today.” Or, “We didn’t pray hard enough.” Or, “Our faith wasn’t strong enough.”

Staying in sync means finding the balance between praying for health and accepting our reality. A well-known passage in the Bible is the bedrock for our frail bodies and souls.

“Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” (2 Corinthians 12:8-9, ESV)

Go ahead and ask… but after a few long silences, maybe it’s time to take it to the next level… resignation (not giving up, but acquiescing to the sovereign will of God), rejoicing in our newfound source of strength… (yes… our source of strength!)

“For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.” (2 Corinthians 1:5, ESV)

We remember the suffering with great detail, in living color. Are we so immersed in the comfort that we also remember every detail of that? Do we come away assuaged by the Spirit’s comfort? Can we talk about what we’ve gained as eloquently as we can describe what we’ve lost?

We must confront our addiction to “creature comforts” for what it is. Our main goal here is not to find a way to take away the pain and keep it away. Once we get that straightened out, we can think again about serving God and helping others—even while immersed in our own painful experiences.

MEEKNESS…

Peter, the Privileged… He’s not often given that title, but it’s a good title.

“Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you used to dress yourself and walk wherever you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go.” (This he said to show by what kind of death he was to glorify God.) And after saying this he said to him, “Follow me.”” (John 21:18-19, ESV)

Jesus informs Peter of the terrible way he would die. And, without batting an eye, he tells him, “Follow me.” As if to say, “I died for you to save you; you will die for me as an example to those who follow you.” And what did Peter do? He followed Jesus!

We, the Privileged…

As with Peter, so with us: whatever death has been appointed for us, it is meant to glorify God. This hard season—including the homestretch season—is also by divine appointment, right? God expects us to recognize the final homestretch for what it is. Ours is also meant to glorify God. And for all of our whys, pushbacks, and negotiating, his response to us will be the same as to Peter: “Follow me.”

We don’t desire a life of pain and suffering, but if that’s what it becomes, we must humble ourselves, give thanks, and pray for grace. For many, death is sudden and comes with no warning. For example, many others (like Linda and Carol) will recognize when the end is nearing. How can God be glorified through us right down to our crossing-over moment?

The Ultimate Meekness Test…

How does this help us when we see by what death our loved one is meant to glorify God? In what ways should this knowledge make us better caregivers? Maybe it’s about giving those of us still full of life the opportunity to give back to those who have given so much for us. Or perhaps it’s simply—undying love. More than obligation or commitment, we feel honored to be entrusted with such a role. That might work out more as… less frantic and more accepting of the situation… less desperation and more centeredness… more calm assurance and mettle… more words of spiritual comfort and hope… more of what our loved one most desires: Time together, physical closeness, embrace, hours and more hours alongside… just being there… praying there.

Point to ponder: I never felt like I spent enough time, and Carol never felt she had enough visitors. Yet, I had to balance my approach with the question: What if this is not a sprint to the finish line but more like a marathon? How do I stay on top of this for the long haul? (This might be a good talking point for later.)

RECOVERING OUR PERSPECTIVE (get a grip)

Augustine’s “City of God” was written some 1600 years ago. For me, it’s not an easy read. I’m going slowly through it in audio format. Sometimes, it helps me fall asleep for my nap. One thing that stands out so far is the section of short chapters that deal with martyrdom as a fact of life… how to face it… how to prepare for it… how to prepare our families for it. How do we leave a clear testimony for Christ until we draw our last breath? I haven’t seen very many How-To books dedicated to martyrdom for sale. Something like “10 steps to a successful death … Step 1: Be prepared - if you mess this one up, you won’t get a do-over; step 2…?”

We might need to rethink how we think about suffering. We are distinctly American, with an unjustifiable sense of entitlement, immersed in consumerism. If we get a handle on who the Lord is for us, we won’t get all OCD about “God, this hurts—make it go away.” Rock bottom? When we talk about rock bottom, much of the world only laughs. When we let ourselves see how and how much many millions of people are suffering… how can we not be thankful for whatever our lives are today? A recently translated poem:

THE SCREAM

And when their children
were murdered

the
Israelian
Palestinian
Iranian
Armenian
Syrian
Ukranian
…
mother

screamed the same scream
cried the same tears

the least we can do is to
acknowledge their pain.

A recent emigré from Ukraine to the United States was asked, “What stands out as being different here from your home country?” Her answer? “The sky is quiet.” Maybe we need a season of rockets whistling overhead and exploding a split second later in our neighborhoods, destroying our homes, killing people we know, taking family members… to readjust how we think about what we are entitled to.

Whatever our present trial, remember: It’s normal. We’re not being singled out for some unusual tragedy. It’s the human experience. We’re part of it. Everyone faces harsh realities and losses sooner or later. A capricious, vindictive god is not picking on us.

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed.” (1 Peter 4:12-13, ESV)

“And he said, “Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return. The LORD gave, and the LORD has taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.”” (Job 1:21, ESV)

Why is it so hard to say what Job said… and mean it?… and live it?

Our initial reaction to the unthinkable can be: How is this possible? After we pull ourselves together, we return to: “Thank you, Lord. I don’t understand, but I trust you. Whatever my life is today, Lord, nothing compares to what awaits me on the other side with you forever.”

This sanctified perspective is only possible as we look up… and let the Lord help us know and feel how insignificant our present situation is compared to what’s next.

Required: a healthy dose of meekness.

PROVIDENCE:

We are firm believers in God's providence. By confessing our trust in God’s providence, we recognize his divine hand in creating and expanding the cosmos. We also celebrate it in the minute details he orchestrates for us daily.

Recognizing the Savior’s shepherding care leads to a joyful steadiness. Or would it be better to call it a “Steady Joyfulness”? The emphasis should be on our joy in his presence moment by moment… It’s his joy that is our strength. Especially in my early years, I think I spent more time trying to be right than tap into the center of the story: the joy of the Lord, which is our strength.

There is never a single moment that is all bad or all good. Some elements of both extremes are always present. We can feel it in ourselves in the spirit/flesh tension we live with every moment. It’s an impossible mix to sort out on our own. We resolve these contradictions through our union (reconciliation) and communion with God. He wants us to walk with him every day. He means for us to be joyful… every day. Every moment is our opportunity to be present… breathing it ALL in… facing it… embracing it… and with a smile, repeating Carol’s mantra: “WE CAN TRUST GOD.”

THE STARTING POINT

What motivated us to look for God? Why did we embrace Jesus Christ as our Savior to begin with? It was because we were convinced we had found that one unified theory about life, death, and eternity. God, in his infinite mercy, allowed us to find him… and to find in him our reason for being. From birth to the grave, in the cross of Christ, we find the answer to everything.

So, it's not really unexpected even when we suddenly find ourselves in a radically different season. And we will still find ourselves on sure footing. We always know that even while the fires are burning, nothing ever happens outside the purview of God’s providence. Nothing surprises him; nothing slips his mind or gets left unattended.

What reward awaits us if we live to old age? I can think of at least a few, but the one that stands out? The longer we live, the more losses we will experience. But for those of us in Christ, we know we will meet again at table in the kingdom of God. “And people will come from east and west, and from north and south, and recline at table in the kingdom of God.” (Luke 13:29, ESV)