Too Much Red Ink

Posted on March 10, 2014 by rstaples2013

It’s not hard to remember the sinking feeling that came with getting an assignment back from a teacher and finding it all marked up with red ink. It’s not a very long journey from, “I got a failing grade” to “I am a failure.”

I wonder if in our “journey with Jesus” we are too quick to grab the pen with red ink. Do we, in our essential task of defending the absolute truth of the gospel, extend this “stand” to that which may be better left to the illumination of process?

Here is the story that is prompting this question for me:

A lady of retirement age, whom I did not know, came to our home to assist me with a project. As we talked, she revealed to me that she had several precarious health conditions. As I listened, I felt led to ask, “Do you know Jesus?”

“Oh, yes,” she replied with evidence of warmth and familiarity.

She then went on to tell about her mother’s deathbed experience. It had been a protracted “dying” and the family had spent a week at this mother’s bedside.

After several assurances from the family that permission was given to die, this mother drew her final breath. As she did, she raised her arms toward heaven, broke into a big smile and said, “Harold.”

The lady telling this story choked up and said that Harold was her father’s name. She then spoke to me in an emotional whisper, “I think Harold was the angel God sent to take my mother home to heaven.”

I listened and stayed quiet.

I was aware that there would have been a time in my own journey where I would have needed to explain that we don’t become angels.

Somehow, in this story, the blood of Jesus is all the red ink I needed.

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A Good Name

Posted on March 7, 2014 by rstaples2013

A Good Name

I have been asked to speak to a Senior Adult Fellowship on the topic “A Good Name.” It is never easy for me to prepare a talk when the subject is chosen for me. The idea of “a good name” has been stirring in my mind since I accepted this invitation. Times when a name has had significance have been brought back to memory.

I grew up on a farm a few miles from a village of less than 1,000 people, where everybody knew everybody. During my college years I came “home” whenever I could. On one occasion I noticed the variety store on Main Street was under new ownership. I shopped there for a few things and wrote a check for payment. I handed the check to the new owner and asked if he wanted to see identification. He looked at my check and smiled. Then he said the words that filled my heart with gratitude and pride, “Not with THAT name.”

The name was recognized as one where trust had been earned. Dad’s word was as good as a notarized document. This heritage has been prescriptive for me. After my parents death I was driven to sell their house the way Dad would have done it: with a handshake.

There is something about growing up with a name that is trusted that has given me confidence. It has shaped my identity. But does this name really define who I am?

As I prepare this message, I want to find ways to help our seniors understand who they are as children of God, as joint heirs with Christ.
In order to do this with authenticity I need to answer the question for myself. Who am I?

Do I understand who I am because my Father’s name is I AM?

Do I claim my inheritance as a joint heir with Christ?

Do I celebrate belonging to the family of God?

Do I assume a posture of power when the enemy whispers to me that I will be defeated?

Do I answer the enemy by saying: “Not with that Name!”

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Watch for the Yellow Arrow

Posted on February 28, 2014 by rstaples2013

It’s been more than six months since I walked the Camino de Santiago in northern Spain. The path, even with the help of guidebooks that tell you what to expect is unpredictable .The distance is longer, the hills are steeper and the terrain is an invitation to stumble.

Everything in you wants to ask, “Are we almost there?” but you don’t ask because you are afraid of the answer. If it weren’t for the yellow arrow, I don’t know if I would have mustered the courage to endure.

Everyone knows the yellow arrow marks the path, assuring you that you are not lost and your destination lies ahead.

Sometime the yellow arrow is obvious.
arrow

Other times, the distance between the arrows is concerning.

path

But finally one appears. (You need to look closely.)

house

It hardly needs to be stated; the similarity of this metaphor to life.

I only want to encourage you to watch for the yellow arrow.

It may come through a friend, a dream, a scripture, an experience, hearing someone else’s story.

But the arrow will be there.

“Thus says the Lord, “Stand in the ways and see, and ask for the old paths, “Where is the good way?” and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.” Jeremiah 6:16”

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It’s Still a Finch

Posted on February 26, 2014 by rstaples2013

Some of our birds migrate. They leave in the fall, which is sad, but come back in the spring, bringing hope that once again winter will be a season and not perpetual. Who of us does not find someone to tell when we see our first robin of the year?

Then there are those birds that stay all year and look the same month after month. Other than the stunning contrast that the cardinal red exposes against a blanket of white snow, it doesn’t announce seasonal changes.

But I want us to consider the gold finch. I used to think these brilliant yellow birds went south for the winter. Then one year I watched as one of my nondescript olive colored friends, that had been nipping at the Niger seed bag all winter, began to slowly brighten into a brilliant yellow.

As I watch this I recognize that this drab little bird, that I am not paying much attention to, is still a finch.

I am glad that God is not impressed with me when I am bright and shiny. On those days when someone comments that I was helpful, that my idea was a great contribution or that I really look great (for my age). I’m glad God doesn’t love me more on those days.

I am glad that God does not get bored with me when I am nondescript. On those days when no one notices me, no one comments on my ideas or maybe someone even asks me if I am tired. I’m glad God doesn’t love me less on those days.

What if I lined up my own perception of myself with God’s perception of me?

What if I am deliberate in lining up my perception of other people with God’s perception of them?

God looks at the little bird all year and knows it’s still a finch.

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We Need Some Fresh Ideas

Posted on February 24, 2014 by rstaples2013

I was asked to retrieve some stories from the people who were part of the beginning days of our church; those who had been a part of the fellowship for more than fifty years. One anecdote came to my mind but I didn’t want to submit it without validating its accuracy.

I called the widow of the main character in this story and said, “I remember hearing that in the early days of our church, your husband, who had only been a Christian for a week, was invited by the pastor to be the Sunday School Superintendent.”

“Oh, yes, that’s true,” this widow replied. “The pastor met my husband in the lobby and invited him to be the Sunday School Superintendent. I called the pastor the following week and told him that my husband could not be the superintendent because he had only been a believer for one week and he had never even been to Sunday school.”

The pastor replied, “That’s good. We need some fresh ideas.”

The widow went on to say this assignment flourished into a wonderful ministry. “My husband loved children and the babies who would not go to anyone else would go to him.”

As I reflected on this story, I remembered the early paradigm where “any old bush will do.” The focus was not so much on ability as availability. Now, with decades of experience, I understand the critical need for a child protection policy and training for our children’s workers. Yet, I wonder if “we need some fresh ideas.” I have a longing in my heart for the days when prayerful dependence was a natural posture because we were trusted with responsibilities for which we had no ability.

In those stories, God was so big that we didn’t have to be.

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O taste and See…

Posted on February 17, 2014 by rstaples2013

Having prayed through Paul’s prayers in my morning devotions, I was gripped by this phrase in the Amplified Bible “…(That you may really come) to know (practically, through experience for yourselves) the love of Christ, which far surpasses mere knowledge (without experience).

I determined that I had an hour left before I needed to get ready for work. I turned off all the lights in the house, settled down with my coffee in a comfortable lounge chair with soft “soaking” music in the background. I asked God to let me experience His love, personally.

It was the time of the day where night meets morning. I watched the darkness of our backyard, knowing that light would soon win.

Then my heart leapt within me. I thought I saw something moving in the dark. Was it only shadows? Was it my imagination? But, no, as I looked closer there were vague outlines of real movement.

Flooded with joy, I recognized two deer enjoying the breakfast I had prepared for them. Yesterday, trudging through the snow and cold, I had carried a pail of crushed corn and filled two aluminum basins at the back of our yard. This morning, I watched as these beautiful creatures tasted and saw that it was good.

I sensed God whisper; “Your joy is just a surface scratch of what I feel for you when you devour what I have prepared for you.”

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Shredding My Data

Posted on February 14, 2014 by rstaples2013

I have filled three huge lawn bags with shredded paper today. Hidden among the shreds are the details of my life.

I could tell you how much my electric bill was in 1980 if I had spared those receipts from the shredder. I could have assured you that my cat was vaccinated for rabies back in 1983. Or maybe you would be more interested in a document stating my car had passed the emission test in 1990.

As I fed these things into the ravenous shredder (which overheated three times), I wondered why I had avoided this task for so long. shredder

I have asked our financial advisor, on several occasions, if there was any reason to keep old records. Each time I was gently told, “no” but it wasn’t until today that I took action.

Why is it hard to let go of that which is clearly useless? Is it a matter of trust? Am I trying to keep a paper trail so that I can go back to days that were more fun? Does shredding the evidence make it undeniable that I have more history than future?

I did find a few treasures. I found my original birth certificate, a copy of my ordination certificate, a copy of a document signed by Grover Cleveland in 1886 granting a homestead easement for accessing the timber on our farm and a hand written letter to each of my parents that I never sent.

I am glad that I glanced at the papers and grasped ownership of what I was releasing. I feel as though I have traveled back down a road that is both crowded with trivia and marked with significance.

All of it is past. None of it can be relived. But I can filter the memories. I can choose forgiveness, gratitude and grace. I can release the pain and embrace the joy.

I can follow the footsteps of Jesus where I am reminded that my sin has been shredded and my faith has been framed.

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Walking in the Dark

Posted on February 12, 2014 by rstaples2013

The natural thing to do when you are walking in the dark is to look down. Maybe you will somehow “pierce the darkness” and be able to avoid that which you would otherwise stumble over.

I am remembering an activity from a time when I directed a camp for elementary aged children.

We used this exercise as a teaching moment. The first step was to walk through a narrow, heavily wooded trail during daylight hours. In the light, we could see where the winding trail was going. Then, we repeated the walk at night under starlight. The trail was so dark that there was only one way to move ahead. That was to look up and catch the narrow strip of light between the tops of the trees. We placed our feet where the light from the sky provided the trail.

I welcome your comments.

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Silver Lining of Brutal Winter

Posted on February 10, 2014 by rstaples2013

I paid close attention as I heard unexpected words from my friend, “This has been a wonderful winter.” Those of you who live in southern Wisconsin will understand why I was so taken aback by this comment. I, myself, have been heard to say, “This is the first time in my entire life that relocating to a warmer climate has some appeal.”

I like seasons, usually. It is just that this winter is so brutal and unrelenting. If it is not subzero temperatures, it is snowing with treacherous drifting and wind chills.

I listened carefully as my friend, who works with our State government, explained that these brutal conditions were solving problems that were beyond human solution. Among them were the survival of our elm trees as the borer larvae is frozen, toxic algae in our lakes are being reduced and our water levels are being stabilized.

Is God taking care of His creation by doing what needs to be done for it to flourish?

Does this create a metaphor for what may be a hidden agenda for the times when I feel like I am shivering in a cold wind that has no purpose?

Maybe I need a season of perceived “brutal conditions” in order for that which needs to be cleansed from my life to be overcome.

Can I trust, today, that what seems harsh to me is an act of grace for which someday I will be grateful?

I welcome your thoughts and stories.

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Sleepover at Seventy

Posted on February 7, 2014 by rstaples2013

I think that when I was seven years old, we called it “staying overnight” or “pajama party.” Now I hear my grandchildren talking about “sleepover.” I think all of these terms generally refer to spending the night at a friend’s house. Usually, the expectation is that the participants are children.

This weekend I broke that paradigm and arranged to sleep over at my friend’s house. I actually invited myself. What led up to this was an anticipation that my friends from Malaysia were going to spend the weekend with me. I was really looking forward to their coming. There is something about having a guest in your home that provides more intimate time than when you just arrange to meet with them for a scheduled appointment.

My plan became questionable when I remembered that one of the guests had a cat allergy. Since my cat has total freedom to wander our house, there is not a square inch that could be labeled non-allergenic. Reluctantly, I made arrangements for these guests to stay at the house of a friend who does not have a cat. It was then that this brilliant idea hit me. I will simply leave my cat at home with my husband and I will be a guest in this friend’s home as well.

I packed my bag with clothes I would need, toothbrush, book and other things that are totally unnecessary but somehow essential to drag along on a trip. When the weekend was over, I came home and unpacked. I felt like I had been on vacation. I had watched the lifestyle of a beautiful family and been embraced by them as one of their own.

I was very tired after this experience as we had talked well into the early morning and there was not much time for sleep. (Not too different from what happened when I was seven years old.)

I wonder if, with traveling being expensive and cumbersome, we should resurrect the idea of sleepovers. I could invite myself to a friend’s house or invite a friend to mine.

Maybe there is not so much difference between seven and seventy as we think?

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