Ants Marching

I suppose this week I should write about Thanksgiving, or maybe the beginning of the Christmas Season (Advent, as we call it in the church world). But that would be a bit too predictable. I didn’t want to write about giving thanks or celebrating gifts.

             

I was in the coffee shop the other day relaxing over hot, black, rich and bold coffee. I was reading a book, reflecting on what the author was challenging me to think about, and I was also engaging in one of my favorite pastimes; people watching.

             

A coffee shop is a great place to people watch. Every location attracts a different group of people. There is one in downtown Elmhurst within walking distance of Elmhurst College that attracts lots of college students, as well as people who work nearby, or business people meeting clients or associates in the area. Late in the morning, stay at home moms will show up, some with babies in strollers, others meeting friends for conversation. I have been to enough of the coffee shops in our area now to notice that many of them have their regulars; people who are there every time I go in, sitting in the same place, solving the world’s problems with the same group of people every day.

             

You see some odd things in coffee shops. The other day I saw a guy in full Michigan State gear, hat, sweatshirt, and jacket, sitting with a guy who had on a Michigan sweatshirt and cap…bitter rivals sharing a cup of joe.

             

I also notice that we are, like singer/song writer, Dave Matthews says, Ants Marching. We want to fit in, we like to look alike, “we all do it the same.”

             

Many of the men who come into the coffee shop are wearing jeans with a sport coat and dress shirt. A huge majority of the women have on boots with their pants tucked inside. We adapt to the latest fashion trends to fit in, become a part of the crowd, to make sure people know we are “with it”. It really is quite amazing how many of us dress in slight variations of the same thing.

             

Then in came a man who wasn’t trying to fit in at all. He was older than me (believe it or not!). His long gray hair was pulled into a ponytail. His beard was fashionably scraggly. He had on a black knit beret that had red, green and yellow stripes around it. His striped shirt stood out against his plaid sport coat. He had on khaki slacks and royal blue patent leather-like basketball sneakers that had optic orange laces! He was making a statement. He seemingly knew a lot of people in the shop, stopping to talk to many, flashing a quick and ready smile as he greeted them.

             

Refreshing, I thought. Isn’t that the way God created us? Each of us is a unique individual, no two alike. We were not created to be like “Ants Marching” in lock step with one another. Somehow, early on, we learn the herd instinct; “fitting in” becomes more important than expressing ourselves individually.  So we put on our sport coat with our jeans and tuck our pants inside our boots and hope that people will notice that we are part of the latest fashion trend.

             

Unfortunately the same thing can happen with the way we think, the way we express ourselves, the causes we support, the things that we are “against”, the way we worship, and the way we decide that God works and doesn’t work in our world.

             

If there is anything we should celebrate during the Christmas season, it is that God has created us as unique individuals and that is a wonderful gift for which we should all give thanks.

             

Oops, I guess I did write about Thanksgiving and Christmas!  

The Journey

Today is our middle child’s birthday. I don’t know about you, but my kids birthdays cause me to reflect on their lives. Often, I get flashbacks to particular events that remain significant and serve as a way of shaping me into the person I am today. For instance, I remember the day Jesse was born. Actually, not the day, but the experience of his birth.

Conceiving a child and carrying babies to full term had been a challenge for us. It wasn’t something we had ever considered and we certainly weren’t prepared for the pain; emotional, physical and spiritual, that accompanied the numerous miscarriages that took place. There were at least four or five miscarriages before we moved down the road to adoption.

We joyfully adopted our oldest child, Ben, when he was three years old. It was a year later that we moved from Holland, Mi. to Downers Grove. The next year Jesse was conceived and we, along with family and friends, prayed that we would be able to carry him full term. Our prayers were answered, and late on November 17, we went to Good Samaritan Hospital in Downers Grove.

We had taken the birthing classes, read the books and heard the stories of our friends’ birth experiences. In keeping with our over-educated selves, we were well prepared...so we thought. Like so many other things in life, we knew about giving birth, but we didn’t have a clue what the birthing experience would actually be like.

It was a bit of an odd position. We had a four year old child, but had never given birth. Our birthing story isn’t necessarily that unique; the sterile room, the gentle nurses, the waiting; the doctor...appearing, measuring, looking, announcing progress, and then leaving; the waiting; the doctor reappearing; the pushing, the failed attempts on my part to help bring comfort and peace; the waiting; the screaming; the anxiety. But for us, seeds of doubt, concern and fear lingered; the unspoken question: we had lost babies before, would this go well for us?

There may be nothing more intense than the last few minutes of drama during a child’s birth as a mother pushes, doctors and nurses and husbands encourage, machines beep and hiss, and strangers walk in and out assisting.

Finally, Jesse was born! Tears flowed, tight embraces were shared, our eyes were wide with the wonder of a child born. The umbilical cord was cut and the doctor quickly took Jesse to a table in the room. Nurses rushed around the table as well. They worked quickly and spoke in hushed tones.

“What’s going on?” Becky shouted. No answer. We were in a panic. Seconds ticked away, they seemed like hours. Finally, screaming and crying from Jesse...a beautiful and joyful sound.

“He was having a little trouble breathing,” the doctor said, “nothing serious”.

Really, nothing serious? Are you kidding me? All the history of lost babies had been racing through our minds; doubt, fear, panic. They were all erased as he was returned to us. Finally we had done it! Successful conception, full term pregnancy, and healthy birth. God’s gift to us.

         

Four years later, God did it again and Libby was born!

Three children, all given to us in very different ways. Who knew that something we take for granted, which seems so natural, would be such a journey?

         

No one has an easy life journey. We all have ups and downs, twists and turns, barricades and barriers. The good news is: we are not alone on this journey. In the dark moments, as we grieved our miscarriages, God surrounded us with caring, loving and supportive friends and family members, as well as the healing presence of the Holy Spirit. In that birthing room there were nurses, technicians and a doctor, but most importantly the Great Physician, Jesus Christ, was present. Through that experience, God taught us lessons about faith, trust and the power of prayer, which have served us well in other dark moments of our life journey. Like so many of you, we have been confronted in life with things that don’t make sense, that are painful, and that seem unfair. When that happens, we can reflect on God’s faithfulness and how He has seen us through all pain and difficulty living life can bring.

         

And for that, I am thankful!

Time

Time. That’s what was on my mind last week. The whole nation had to think about time Saturday night. We acknowledged daylight savings time by setting our clocks to “fall back” an hour. As far as time changes go, it is my favorite. The night we change we get to sleep an extra hour. The sun is up earlier. People seem to have more energy; that is until it gets dark at 5 p.m. Then the night seems to drag on longer.

It just so happened that last Sunday also began our Stewardship series and the subject was time and talent. Time is the gift that doesn’t discriminate. We all have different talents and levels of ability. We all have different amounts of treasure (financial resources), but we all have the same amount of time: 24 hours a day, 168 hours a week, 8,736 hours a year.

Time is a big deal for us. 

          We have to set aside time, find time, and use time.

          It is about time, time flies, and we run out of time.

          Is this a good time? We had a good time!

          The intervention was timely. Will we have time? Timing is everything.

          We need to set a time, make sure we don’t waste time, and keep track of time.

          We have plenty of time. Our time is running out.

          What time is it? Game time!

         

Then we throw God in the mix. Things happen in God’s time, which completely frustrates us because we are much less patient than God and can’t figure out why He won’t work in our time frame.

John tells us that Jesus denied a request from his mother because, “My time has not yet come.” (John 2:4) But 15 chapters later (3 years), Jesus prayed, “Father, the time has come.” (John 17:1)

         

Jesus had perfect timing.

         

God reminds us:

          “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:

          a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot,

          a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build up,

          a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,

          a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

          a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

          a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away,

          a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak,

          a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.”

                                                                                                                 (Ecc. 3:1-8)

Most importantly, “...it is time to seek the Lord, until he comes and showers righteousness on you.” (Hosea 10:12)

         

Because of all that, this week I took some time to reflect on my use of time, and in good time, I am going to adjust how I use my time.

         

Looking forward to to seeing you in worship Sunday. What time will you be there?

Security

You never know. You just never know.

It began like any other week day. Your family gets up, each at their own time and own pace. You eat breakfast, get ready for work or school, you talk about your schedule to make sure your kids aren’t stranded at school without a ride home, or your wife isn’t waiting at the restaurant to meet you for dinner, and you completely forgot. It is like any other day.

Your daughter gives you a peck on the cheek and says goodbye as she leaves for school with her backpack over her shoulder, her tennis racquet in one hand, and her cell phone in the other. The classic look for a high school freshman. It is such a familiar scene, it barely registers with you.

As you back out of your driveway and head down the street on your way to work, you can’t help but notice the beauty of your neighborhood. It is full of trees displaying the glory of their fall colors. The houses all seem peaceful. One neighbor is taking his garbage can out the street and waves. You return their wave and think, “It is so great to live here in the suburbs. It is safe, serene, secure.”

Why would you think that in only a few hours that would all be blown to pieces? How could anyone imagine that when you returned home that night from work, you would find the girl you kissed goodbye on her way out the door that morning, layng in a pool of blood in your home, apparently stabbed to death when she interrupted an intruder? How horrible? How unimaginable? What a nightmare!

But that is exactly what happened to the mother of Kelli O’Laughlin. She drove down the safe, serene, secure streets of Indian Head Park last Thursday after work and entered into a living nightmare. Like many of you, I can’t even begin to imagine what that would be like. Periodically I find myself fighting back tears when I think about it, even though I didn’t know the people personally.

This is the kind of thing we expect to avoid by living in the suburbs of Chicago. Our villages aren’t like the city. They are safe, secure and serene.

Our lives are surrounded by things that are supposed to provide security. Security cameras, security gates, security guards, and security codes. Passwords provide security for our electronic devices. Banks and investment companies provide security for our money. Cars have seat belts and air bags to make us secure from injury. OSHA agencies secure the work place so people aren’t endangered. When we travel on airplanes we go through security scanners as does our luggage.

There are all sorts of precautions taken in our lives that are supposed to provide security and protect us.

And yet, suicide bombers get on planes. Hackers get into our online bank accounts. Our identities are stolen. Accidents occur in the work place. Seat belts and air bags fail. Our safe, secure and serene suburbs are disrupted by crime and violence.  

Ultimately nothing can really protect us, keep us secure, or guarantee safety.

So, I fall back on an old document. One that was written more than 400 hundred years ago as a way to summarize what “reformed” Christians believe; the Heidelberg Catechism.

Question 1: “What is your only comfort, in life and death?”

Answer: “That I belong--body and soul, in life and in death--not to myself but to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ, who at the cost of his own blood has fully paid for all my sins and has completely freed me from the dominion of the devil; that he protects me so well that without the will of my Father in heaven not a hair can fall from my head; indeed, that everything must fit his purpose for my salvation. Therefore, by his Holy Spirit, he also assures me of eternal life, and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.”

“...that he protects me so well...” obviously does not mean that nothing bad will happen to me/us in life. It means that when the evils of life are at work, God knows and ultimately protects me.

If my seatbelt or airbag fails to protect me; if I am a victim of a violent crime; if I am attacked by a deadly disease, I am assured of the fact that I am in God’s hands and I will graduate to eternal life with Him.

We never know. We just never know. But God always knows.

Rev.