How Much I Don’t Know

    Have you ever stopped to think about how much you don’t know? Take for example the making of a video game. I enjoy playing once in a while, but inevitably there is a point each time I do where I blink in wonder at what I’m witnessing on the screen. How did they engineer that? It’s so lifelike! Or, if you like an example from nature, how in the world do nutrients make it from the ground all the way up to the crown of my sixty foot cottonwood? Complexity abounds.

 

  We could go on and on about microchips and cellular division and RNA replication, etc. But what blows my gourd more than anything else is how God is pulling the events of history into a singular direction for our good and his glory. I’ll admit, there’s a whole lot I don’t understand. But, that won’t always be true. 1 Corinthians 13:12 says, “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.”

    There are really smart people in the world. They stand on the shoulders of the smart people that came before. For all of our combined genius, however, we still suffer from the same old problems that have plagued the world since the fall in Genesis three. If we compare ourselves to the animals around us, of course we will feel smart. But, I’ve been on Canadian lakes as the stars twinkle through the aurora borealis. I believe all creation testifies to the unsurpassed genius of its creator—a Creator that makes the daVinci’s and Hawking’s of the world look silly in comparison. 

    So the next time I’m scratching my head about politics, car mechanics, world poverty, or the artistry of fireworks I don’t want to give up pressing on for understanding in this life. Science and engineering are fascinating. Yet, there will come a day when the mysteries will be revealed. Heaven, in my understanding will be one day of mystery solving after another. I’m looking forward to a constant state of having my mind blown. But, for now I’ll keep staring at my cottonwood and taking breaks to throw a turtle shell at one of my boys in Mario Kart. 

What’s a Teenager to Think?

     I hear that 1968 was a troubling year to be a teenager. The Smithsonian Magazine called it, “The Year that Shattered America.” Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert Kennedy were assassinated. The Vietnam war made LBJ a devil in the eyes of young people across America and around the world. Protesters outside the Democratic National Convention were dispersed with teargas. 

     Today we are a nation that can’t decide whether to honor, graffiti, or ignore the past. We can’t decide whether we want the rule of law, either. If it means police brutality, we don’t. If it means the end of riots, we do. What would Charles Dickens say? On another note...

    Will there be another George Floyd?

    Teenagers, like so many of the rest of us have to work incredibly hard to find a firm place to stand. There’s no one way to describe it. Confusion abounds. If you’re poor, you see it one way. If you’re rich, you see it another. Black students will see it different from white. What about Latinos? I don’t hear much talk about immigration at the moment. The world teens are inheriting is male vs female; woke vs asleep; liberal vs conservative; capitalist vs socialist; Democrat vs Republican; Christian vs Secularist; city vs country; country vs hip hop; cat vs dog, and dog eat world. There are even people who believe the earth is flat and that the Apollo space missions were a hoax.

     Increasingly, a student looking at the smorgasbord of ideas gets the hunch that she is expected to see everything on a scale. She must either choose all the options that are associated with the left or the right. There is a widening chasm between them, similar to the all or nothing approach that rent the country in two over slavery. If she thinks this is unfair and tries to find a middle position she runs the risk of being labeled a defector from one camp or the other. We need her, more than ever, to have the courage to step into the middle and listen...really listen.

     Politics used to have reasonable boundaries. It used to be that dinner conversations with polite friends would avoid the topics of religion or politics. What now can we talk about today that excludes them? Are we nearing the point where choosing a dog or cat for a pet means we are liberal or conservative? Can Republicans be vegan? 

     If I were a teenager today, I would look long and hard for the most stable thing I could find in the sea of ideas. With storms and turmoil all around, I would look for something that has stood the test of time. Not everything new is better; not everything old is either. Just because some voices shout louder and longer doesn’t make them right. If an otherwise trusty car has a faulty headlight don’t scrap the whole thing, learn to fix or improve what’s broken and keep it on the road. 

     

Blank Page Syndrome

     Until I wrote this sentence my page was blank. Now there are twenty-two words and two periods to ease my writer’s mind. I learned just now by Googling “fear of the blank page” that there is such a thing as Blank Page Syndrome. The site discussing it had all the markings of a serious mental health publication—is it right to call a website a publication? If there is such a thing as Blank Page Syndrome then most students would say they’ve contracted it at some point during their education. In a nation where we can’t seem to see past our differences, we can add one thing to the list of humanity’s common characteristics. We all can get, if we haven’t got, a serious mental condition related to writer's block. Perhaps the solution to all the pontificating voices in comment sections and editorials is to step back and admit we’re all sick in the head from time to time. I might be right now; who knows?

     The more I admit that I can be downright loony and others might have at least one decent thought a day the less uppity I might be the next time I see an opinion I don’t like.
     As a daily reader of the Bible, I am well acquainted with its stance on universal syndromes and uppityness. “All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23). We’re all broken, but like to try to feel less broken than the next broken person. According to the Bible, if anyone of us wants to know where we stand, we stand together at the bottom of the pile looking up. In Christian theology, we have the word “depravity” to explain the situation we are all in together. It’s a fine mess.
     There’s another word in Christian theology called, “gospel.” It means good news. At the heart of the gospel is the fact that we all stand condemned for just reasons, but Jesus Christ “endured the cross” that we might not be condemned, but have life! It’s free and available to all. The only catch is it comes to us through repentance and belief (Mark 1:15).
     I was in Barnes and Noble on Monday and they gave me a free coffee for being brave enough to pump sanitizer and enter. On my way to the desk, I passed the self-help section with titles like The Power of Positive Thinking, You are A Bada**, and The Self Love Workbook. If you need a personal cheerleader to tell you how great you are then look no further. Perhaps those authors can help with Blank Page Syndrome. If all of that sounds faddish or gimmicky there’s a dwindling section in the back where you can still purchase a copy of the Bible—a more time tested resource. If you do, you will not find any ooey gooey drivel about loving yourself. You will, however, discover that there is a God who loved the world enough to send his Son to offer himself as a substitute for us so we don’t have to stand condemned anymore. Now that's something to write about.

Racism, Riots, and America, the Beautiful

     When Katherine Bates wrote the words to “America the Beautiful” she had no idea it would become so popular. In poles, many prefer it to our national anthem, “The Star-Spangled Banner.” It’s easier to sing and not so warlike. I wonder if she would have written the fourth verse the same if she were still alive. It goes like this,

O beautiful for patriot dream that sees beyond the years, Thine alabaster cities gleam, Undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed His grace on thee, And crown thy good with brotherhood from sea to shining sea!

     Recent events have looked like anything but brotherhood in gleaming cities. Today we learned that Derek Chauvin has been charged with second-degree murder related to the death of George Floyd. It’s unclear whether this will soothe the anger that boiled over into rioting in cities all across America and even around the globe.
   

 When it comes to politics there seems to be an assumption that those who are on the Left must be heard shouting against racism and that those on the Right must be heard condemning the riots. Those on the Left try to paint those on the right as racists and those on the Right try to paint those on the Left as anarchists.
     If all we see in each other are terrible characterizations the gap between “us vs them” will only widen. I can see that happening quickly and it’s alarming. More and more aspects of our lives are becoming politicized and as new issues arise the two parties scramble to be on the “right side of history.” Stereotypes are also more deeply entrenched than ever. If I’m a Republican, am I allowed to believe in global warming? If I’m a Democrat, am I allowed to think that it’s wrong to kill human life in the womb?
     I see a metaphorical table in the middle with seats set around. People are in the stands. The two-party teams are facing each other on the field. Angry participants on either side have dug trenches and strung razor wire. Exploding bombs and missiles are in the air, being hurled by both sides in the newspapers, on newscasts, and on social media. Strategists with headsets look for the most damning words in each article or video, rip them out of context, and hold up these bloody scalps for the rest of their righteous party to gawk at. “See,” they tell themselves and each other, “What more proof do we need?!”
    Some try to make it to the table to have personal conversations—to speak honestly and to listen generously. Those who find a seat notice quickly that they all look very different from each other, and they don’t talk with the same grammatical precision. Yet, perhaps we might hear them slowly join in a song with a familiar tune:

O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife. Who more than self their country loved, and mercy more than strife! America! America! God mend thine every flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law!

     I think Katherine Bates saw this country with eyes wide open. Perfect? No. Something to embrace? Yes. I think she would call us to strive to make things better without losing sight of America the Beautiful. There are still open seats at the table.

Galatians 3:28; John 7:24; John 13:34; James 2:8-9

Counting Steps

 

 Some people count calories. Recently, I started paying attention to my steps. Today, I decided to limit them to keep my left foot from swelling to Mickey Mouse proportions. That’s not easy when I keep remembering I need things on the other side of the Calvary Baptist Church building where I work. I must admit I enjoy the confused looks when I swing by on crutches after walking unaided into the building this morning.
     I have neuropathy in my left foot that started after I tore a disk in my back on March 6th. Since then I haven't been “stepping” very well. On days where I feel some spunk and little pain I tend to step too much and pay for it the next day or so. I’m feeling spunky today, but I did last Wednesday, too. That night I was a mess.
     So, here I am with my foot up in my office thinking about my next steps and a verse crossed my mind that should flutter in more often. I memorized it in the KJV years ago, but the NIV turned my head this morning. Psalm 37:23 says, “The LORD makes firm the steps of the one who delights in him;” I believe that states it more clearly than any version I’ve previously read.
     I want to step with confidence again, physically. But, even more, I want to step confidently in life and I figure the LORD might have a decent idea how and where I should set my feet.  The key, it seems, is to delight in him. Confusing? I think so...at first glance. But, it makes sense when we consider what delighting in someone actually looks like. We pay more attention to those we delight in. We delight in people that do things in ways that stir up admiration. If I delight in spending time with my grandfather I’m bound to want to sharpen a knife the way he does; his can split hairs. You'll see his influence in the way I live.
     Reading the gospels is the most practical way to learn the art of firm steppin’. Jesus was the perfect representation of God in human form. Let me give one example just to spark your fire. In the gospels, I see that Jesus would step away from distractions to pray, sometimes even hiking up mountains (Mark 1:38). If he had an iPhone he would probably have swiped on “do not disturb.”
     Do you know how Jesus handled the death of a loved one? How about the way he treated outcasts? Did he overlook sin or did he call people out? What were his feelings about taxes, the poor, and priorities? The answers to these questions, and more, are the firmest places I can plant my feet.


KJV = King James Version
NIV = New International Version

Jealous Jaws

     There’s an old fable about a contented dog that paused at the crest of a bridge to adjust a bone in his mouth. He breathed in with a deep sense of satisfaction. Life was good in that moment, but something caught its attention just before he continued. Peering over the edge he saw in the water another dog with a bone looking very happy. In that instant a thought occurred to him: the other dog's bone was probably better. If he could

seize it he would have two bones and twice the joy. The bone he was salivating over just a minute ago became as uninteresting as last year’s pop songs.
    Our friend, the dog, was not particularly thoughtful. The idea that the dog in the water might like to keep his bone never entered his mind. The same is true of all thoroughly selfish people. So, he ran around on the bridge whining with bone in mouth and obsession in mind. He didn’t want to leave his lesser possession on the bridge for fear another dog might slurp it up. Finally, he convinced himself that he could attack the water dog and deprive him of his bone without first going to bury his own. By now he had worked himself up into a slobbering mess with a wild look in his eyes. Without another thought he hurled himself over the rail and hit the water with fangs barred...boneless.
     The water was colder than he anticipated and confusion took over. Where was the water dog? Why had he not been able to grasp both bones with his jealous jaws? He thrashed about thinking the dog had taken a plunge at the last second, but no matter how much he swam around he could not find his quarry. Disappointment turned to horror as the reality of his situation became clear. Horror turned to embarrassment, followed by regret and shame. Why had he been so stupid? How did he let his jealousy get the better of him? He was undone by canine covetousness.
     A simple search reveals dozens of Bible verses on jealousy and envy. Take James 3:16 for example: “For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice.” As with most sins, the one who suffers most  is us. We the jealous become we the boneless in a soaking splash of irony.
     A thought occurred to me the other day as I considered how much time people are spending at home these days. With time on our hands we are more able to obsess over a neighbor’s good fortune to have a lawn tractor. There is finally time to switch out the winter clothes and think about how much happier we’d be dressed like so and so. Some of us know all the gossip about celebrities and pine for a fraction of their glamour. Our jealous jaws snap at this and that, always a little poorer and hungrier.

Godliness with contentment is great gain.   — 1Timothy 6:6

Who Holds the Pen?

     I’ve often dreamed of writing a book and having it published. There are several reasons why that hasn’t happened yet. One of them is a lack of inspiration. I can’t imagine writing something more than a few short paragraphs that could tear someone away from streaming an episode of their favorite show. Being a recognized author has to be one of the hardest things someone could aspire to be.
     I remember some of the first books I learned to read. One of them was about a man named Tim. He had a tin can for a head and he could run. Very creative. The words on the pages were as big as Flintstone vitamins. The first book I can remember being proud of “reading“ was The Little Red Caboose. It was one of the “Little Golden Books.” I had my mom read it to me so many times that I memorized the words. I would recite it to impress adults before I had a clue how to interpret the funny symbols on the pages.
     As we grow in our reading ability we graduate to chapter books. My kids liked a series called, The Magic Treehouse. I grew up on The Hardy Boys. They have good chapters that always give us readers something to tease us into the next one. Chapters open and chapters close. We complete one and enter another. In that sense, chapters are good metaphors for waypoints in life. Our lives are like chapter books marked by big events. One of the biggest is graduating from high school.
     I graduated in a royal blue gown with that funny hat and a gold tassel. I couldn’t remember which way to turn the tassel so I may not have “officially” graduated. I left out any reference to that on my college admission applications, just in case. Looking back, I can remember sensing that a chapter in my life was closing. I didn’t want it to happen. I wanted to stay in high school, but some chapters close whether we want them to or not.
     As the pages of our life’s story fill up we have to come to grips with the fact that there are things we can and can’t control. The high school years come and go whether we like it or not. Tucking little children into bed doesn’t last forever. When we move to a new house a chapter closes. When our last son or daughter moves out a chapter closes and we become “Empty Nesters.” We finish each chapter hoping the next one is as good as the last.
     Occasionally, I think about who has the pen as my story unfolds. Sometimes I feel like it’s me. Other times I feel it’s not. It hasn’t escaped my notice that one of the names for Jesus in the Bible is “The Author of Life” (Acts 3:15). Have you ever stopped to think about what that means? Authors are the ones with the pens. There is a sense in which we could all say that we are, at best, co-authors in our own lives.
     I have become convinced that each life story is written with a single pen. There are times when there is a struggle for control. We can get very angry and stubborn when we don’t have the pen. The Christian life, however, is about learning to yield the pen to the one who knows us better than we know ourselves. Surrender is the only way to arrive at a satisfying conclusion to our life’s story.
     Who has the pen in your life right now? Is it you, or is it Jesus? Is there anything keeping you from handing over your pen to the Author of Life?

On Eating Frogs

     I've been told that frog legs taste like chicken. I don't buy it--frogs don't look like chickens so I can't convince myself they taste like them either.

     I once saw a blue heron swallow a swollen slimy frog in one oversized gulp. I believe it was still alive as it slid down the bird's slender throat. Another time my brother and I hunted the most enormous frogs you ever saw at a camp lake in Pennsylvania. There are some pictures of us somewhere holding our prey with their hind legs extended down to our kneecaps. I think that the "frogs give you warts" idea is a myth. If it were true we would have had more warts than a cackling old witch.
     Frogs can make for a good metaphor. I learned this while reading a book on managing time and priorities by Mark DeVries. In the book, he says we all have a frog to eat each day. He assumes that the reader will find this idea revolting. A whole frog? That's gross. So he grabs onto it and explains that the frog represents that one thing you have to do each day that you really need to do but really don't want to do. It's that thing that really will change your life but it's hard, nasty, boring, or some other word that leads us to shrink back in disgust. He goes on to say that frogs come in different sizes, but the important thing is that we eat them. Why? Because tomorrow has its own frog and you don't want to find yourself with two on your plate.
     We learn from the Bible that frogs can tend to multiply. That's true of tasks and unaddressed items on our "to-do" lists as well. See, we don't get to choose whether there is a frog on our plate each day. We can't tell the waiter we'd like the pork chop instead. Those marble-like eyes inevitably stare up at us whether we like it or not.
     When students look at homework, the assignment that's most annoying is probably the frog. When we think about chores around the house, the one we've been dreading is probably the frog. Making dinner might be the frog, or folding the Mount Everest of laundry. Whatever is most important and either most difficult or most unenjoyable on our lists each day is the frog.
     If I don't eat today's frog because I just can't bring myself to do it or was just plain lazy I will end up with two frogs tomorrow...and three the next day. Before long we're in as bad a shape as the Egyptians when Moses was around. Speaking of Moses, it was he who prayed this to the LORD: "Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom" (Ps. 90:12) I wonder if he was thinking about doing the most important things as he listened to the croaking of frogs in the distance.
     I don't like the reality that the things that will impact my life the most--the things that really matter--tend to be the things I leave till last on my list for the day. My inner procrastinator will allow me to check off the easy, fluffy, and simple tasks without much of a fight. Frogs on the other hand?...Let the battle begin!
     I have discovered that eating frogs is best done before lunch. The longer I wait the more impact it has on my day. If I eat it early I can spend the rest of the day free from the dread of eating frogs and work on more enjoyable things. If we procrastinate, it tends to dominate our thinking and weigh us down with negative emotions.
     Proverbs 21:5 says, "The plans of the diligent lead surely to abundance." Diligence means doing work in a careful, persistent, and timely fashion. Sounds like Solomon was thinking of frog eaters. Please pass the salt and pepper. 
   

When They're Driving You Crazy

     Some people chew really loudly. Other people have one of those voices that drives you crazy. Let's not even talk about nail-biting, leaving clothes in the dryer, taking your stuff without asking, and leaving the remote buried somewhere in the couch cushions. The more you get to know people, the more they can make you want to beat your head against a wall.
     Did you know that there is actually a disorder label for people who can't stand certain sounds? It's called Misophonia. Personally, I can't wait for the disorder label I can use to justify eating pounds of chocolate and gallons of coffee.
     In his book The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis addressed how Satan can use our tendency to get easily bothered by the little habits of others, like leaving the toilet seat up, to cause us to sin against them. When you think about it, it makes a whole lot of sense. The book is a series of letters from a senior demon to an apprentice. Their correspondence is about ruining the life of the apprentice's human 'patient.' The older wiser one said, "When two humans have lived together for many years it usually happens that each has tones of voice and expressions of face which are almost unendurably irritating to the other. Work on that. Bring fully into the consciousness of your patient that particular lift of his mother's eyebrows which he learned to dislike in the nursery, and let him think how much he dislikes it. Let him assume that she knows how annoying it is and does it to annoy--if you know your job he will not notice the immense improbability of the assumption. And, of course, never let him suspect that he has tones and looks which similarly annoy her" (13).
     Do you have siblings? I can tell what you might be thinking. Pastor Jason, you don't know my brother. He really does annoy me on purpose. He gets a sick little pleasure out of making me want to tear my hair out. Are there people like this? Yes. I'll grant you that. But, in your situation is it not possible there are things that annoy him about you that cause him to antagonize?
     The Bible makes it clear that we are very good at picking out the faults of others and very bad at noticing our own. Jesus talked about this in his Sermon on the Mount. One person tries to criticize someone else for something petty and small while failing to see how horrible he or she is behaving themself (Mt. 7:1-6).
     How can we avoid getting stuck in this trap of Satan? First, we must realize that our Enemy loves nothing better than seeing people set against one another for any reason whatsoever. He is the sower of discord. He hates it when Christians dwell together in unity. Secondly, we must develop the ability to honestly and lovingly talk to each other about what annoys us. If we wait till whatever it is has driven us half-mad over the course of several weeks we will probably blow up at them instead of addressing it calmly. Finally, we have to force ourselves to admit that for everything someone does to annoy us (whether on purpose or unintentionally) there is probably at least one thing we do that frustrates them to no end. We can't expect others to work on their habits if we aren't willing to work on ours.
     So, the next time your mom uses that tone that frustrates the heck out of you, ask yourself this question: Have I ever used a tone with her that might be annoying? Start working on your own tone and then you can see clearly to talk respectfully to her about hers.

When the Pieces Don't Fit

     I read somewhere that our brains are like the muscles of our body. We have to exercise them or they turn to mush. There are almost limitless ways to keep this mushiness from happening. Some turn to crossword puzzles. Eh, not for me. Others turn to adventure video games. Still, others turn to Sudoku. If you don’t know what that means I can’t help you.

Our brain strengthening strategy has included puzzles. We like some of them more than others. Puzzles that have large sections with one pattern and color are annoying. I like nature scenes, personally. If we finish the puzzle we step back with a sense of accomplishment. Some of us should feel it more since not all of us worked on it as long. 

There are other kinds of puzzles that can be just as, if not more difficult to solve. We don’t need a quarantine to know that the events and challenges of our lives don’t always seem to fit what we’ve been taught. When we read our Bibles, for instance, we see that Jesus says, “I will never leave you, nor forsake you.” (Mt. 28:20). Yet, there are occasions where we feel desperately alone. If our Savior is there in those moments it seems he must be hiding very well. That’s the way it feels to me, anyway.

Sometimes we wonder why we have been made the way God made us. Some of you may feel like you don’t fit in your family or school. You feel like that piece of the puzzle that made its way into the wrong box. Teenagers, as well as adults, can easily convince themselves that they would be much happier in a different puzzle. There are those of us who think the puzzle we are in won’t amount to much. So, we get restless and speak negatively to those around us about our puzzle. Why do we do this? I think it’s true that misery loves company. But, if we have to make other people feel uncomfortable belonging to a puzzle to feel companionship we have not really loved them. We have been selfish.

What about the times when loved ones get sick? What about when we face health trials? What if we feel ugly? What if your prayers aren’t answered? The Bible says, “Ask and it will be given unto you, seek and you shall find, knock and the door will be opened unto you.” And “Whatever you ask for, in my name, it will be given to you.” What do you do when you’ve prayed and prayed that the pain would stop—but it doesn’t. What about when your parents just won’t stop fighting and they wonder why you want to wear noise-canceling headphones as you walk around the house? These pieces just don't seem to make sense. They don't fit.

Perhaps the worst cases are the ones where we know exactly where we fit in the puzzle and we just don’t want to be placed there. We can tell that fitting where we are designed to fit will not bring comfort, but pain. It will not bring popularity, but ridicule and a sense of deep deep loneliness. The Bible has a metaphor for it: “The valley of the shadow of death.” David knew such valleys. His life must have been very puzzling to him. He was the anointed king of Israel, but he was forced to hide in caves to keep from getting murdered. He could have tried to recut the puzzle of his life so it made sense, but he trusted that God had a plan and placed him in a puzzle that was confusing at the time, but just right in hindsight. 

Jesus knew what puzzle he chose to fit in. He said that he came “to seek and to save the lost.” Isaiah said he would be “a man of sorrows.” I can picture him in the garden the night he was betrayed. The puzzle was almost complete. Our Lord was not puzzled. He knew how the pieces needed to fit together. Yet, he was reluctant as he prayed. He asked for the puzzle to remain unfinished but found strength in envisioning the completed puzzle. “For the joy set before him, he endured the cross, despising its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.”

Jesus knows how to arrange the pieces of the puzzle of your life. All the things that don’t make sense; Jesus knows where those pieces fit. He designed the box lid that you can’t see. He knows what the completed picture will look like before you even have two pieces linked together. The question is, will you trust him?

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans for a hope and a future.”   —Jeremiah 29:11

Be Still and Know

     Have you noticed anything different about your home since the Coronavirus invaded? I’ve come to appreciate the talent of the painter that sponged swirly patterns on the ceiling above the couch in my living room.  The swirl pattern ends with a special flourish that gives it artistic flare. It’s remarkably consistent throughout the house.
     Thirty slats make up the window blinds in my bedroom. Yes, I counted them. The north-facing windows cast light on at least 19 photos of our kids. There may be more but I just can’t bring myself to move from being propped up to a sitting position in bed.
     The trains from Covington and Cincinnati sound their horns at 5am to make sure the tracks are clear. There aren’t any tracks in my town that I’m aware of, so the sound is faint.
     If it’s a sunny day, my neighbor behind my house will mow with his lawn tractor—but not until the sun dips below the horizon. He retired years ago so he’s been home all day, but he chooses dusk to crank up his John Deere. He zooms around his trees and lawn ornaments with his lights on. At least that’s been his practice since the grass woke up this spring.
     I’ve been very sleep deprived so I can only hope that what I write makes some sense. I’d like to think that my observations about my home and neighborhood—like the fact that there are at least 9 dogs in my cul-de-sac—aren’t just some crazy ramblings of someone with way too much sit-around time. I want them to prove that somehow I can still make sense of my surroundings.
     On an average April day I wouldn’t care a lick about anything I’ve just mentioned, but while I’m laid aside with an injury and my family is all home due to social distancing recommendations I’ve come to appreciate the little things more. I’ve had to slow down to notice them.
     Americans like loud music, fast cars, fast food, and busy schedules. Whenever we get a moment where our attention doesn’t have to be on something specific we can be found mindlessly swiping our thumbs across our smartphones. “Downtime” has been replaced by “screen time” and I think we are worse for it.
     If you asked if I have learned anything over the past month I’d have to top the list with Psalm 46:10. It says, “Be still and know that I am God.” When does someone need to be told to be still? When they’re too loud and too fidgety; too frantic and too distracted. But if we will yield to the call we will get a sense of something that’s hard to notice with AirPods and Instagram. What is it? Knowledge of God.
     Information about God is one thing. Knowing deep down that God is always present, that he is love, that he is true and faithful. These things can be acknowledged with a passing nod in the distracted high volume world we live in. But, only those who can tear themselves away from it come to “know” that he really is the “friend that sticks closer than a brother” (Pr. 18:24).
     Discovering the detail around my home is one thing, but discovering the voice of God in the whispers of his word in the night; his calming voice in the Psalms; the poetry of pain in the book of Job all come running to us in the stillness. Those who experience it soon find that they crave it more and more.

Stephen Curtis Chapman has known great joy and suffering. He wrote a song called, "Be Still and Know" that's well worth a listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BgaHaioAjyg

What Pets Can Teach Us During the Coronavirus

About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them.

                               --Acts 16:25

     We have two cats, but I’m not a cat person. Ever since the day we discovered that I’m allergic to them I’ve looked at them as the enemy of my health. Do you like cats? I’m willing to admit that some cats are okay.

Ginny

     Last night we put both cats outside. The weather was warm, so we didn't think it would do them any harm. Ginny took the opportunity to explore, hunt, and exercise. She loves to catch things and bring them to the back door or stash them in her collection under the deck. The latest unfortunate creature she added was a short snake. It was slightly less cute than the large-eared gray and white mouse she brought us a couple of nights ago. We are waiting for that terrible day when she proudly presents us with the gift of a dead baby bird from the nest in the maple tree. So, it's reasonably safe to say that Ginny likes being outside. I'm not good enough at reading felines to say she prefers it to being inside. She seems just as content curling up on Sam's dog bed or pretending she's a rabbit--hopping around and chasing a toy mouse in the house. Basically, she seems content wherever she happens to be at the time. If Heidi ever had that noble characteristic, it is long gone.
     Heidi has been with us for seven years--a gift from friends who already had two cats. For reasonable people, two cats are enough and they were quite reasonable. Now, reasonable is not a word I would use to describe our older cat. Neither is 'content' for that matter. While Ginny was making the most of her outside opportunity last night Heidi wasted the whole night as far as I can tell.

Heidi

     I've been up a lot during the nights this past month with back, leg and foot problems (that's a whole story in itself). When the pain keeps me awake I get up and hobble past the back door to the kitchen. Last night was particularly sleepless so I was up even more than usual so I can say I'm pretty certain what Heidi did all night long. She sat looking through the glass into the house wishing desperately to come back inside. As the darkness gave way to first light her patience wore thin and she started meowing. She continued without interruption until she was let in more than two hours later.
     It occurred to me that people can be like either of our two cats. Some take life as it comes and make the best of whatever situation in which they find themselves. Others can't enjoy their current situation because all they can think about is wanting to be somewhere else doing something else. They "meow" in different ways but the message is still the same.
     When we look at the Bible characters we see that there are some who aren't to blame for their situation, like Job or Paul and Silas in prison. Job cried out in sorrow and pain for God to answer him. It seems unfair to call that 'meowing.' He suffered a great deal.  So did Paul and Silas in Acts 16. They were beaten with rods and thrown in prison. Instead of 'meowing' they began singing and proved that they could rise above their unwelcome circumstance. Their response to difficulty was so extraordinary it astonished the jailer who begged them to tell him how to find that same ability. Others, like kings Ahab and Solomon spent all their energy meowing through the glass trying to find contentment by getting what they didn't already have.
     As we live through the Coronavirus social distancing rules some of us will react like Ginny and some like Heidi. We may not get to choose our circumstances, but nothing can take away our ability to choose how we react to them. In every difficulty, there is an opportunity for those who are determined enough to find it.