Long live the Queen

 Long live the Queen.

       And indeed, she did.

I am sure that the younger generations are wondering what is the big deal, all of the pomp and parades and honor given to this 96 year old woman. 

With all the craziness of the world, the fighting, chaos, wars (plural), somehow we all knew everything would still work out all right, because there was still the Queen.  Among all the leaders in the past and now in the present, Queen Elizabeth was the sensible one and the voice of grace and reason -- the whisper in the midst of shouting, deception and discord, serious when the situation called for it, and then pulling out a marmalade sandwich out of her purse when she met with royalty like Paddington Bear. The world is hungry for leaders like that.  We'll miss you, Elizabeth.

No matter her high position, she was never one to draw attention to herself.  I always felt like she would rather that queen was not capitalized.  It was not who she was but what she did.  It was her assignment -- her anointing and appointing -- as each of us bear in some dimension.   She was faithful to her assignment.  And wore an appropriate hat -- and attitude-- to every situation.  She brought something different to the table.

As a teenager, she endured the incessant bombing of London -- every night for six full months-- as the world as she knew it teetered on destruction. It appeared that Hitler was going to take over the world.  And then at war's end, at the mere age of 25 when losing her father, she inherited the British Empire.  She was not perfect.  But she was faithful in what was placed before her and even the crown placed on her head.  

As a newly appointed queen, she visited Chicago for the dedication of the Buckingham Fountain.  I was a tiny little girl holding my grandmother's hand in that crowd.  I remember the red carpet rolled out as far as I could see.  Even then, people flocked about her, not because she was so important but she was greatly admired.

She was not some special kind of person.  She was a faithful one.  She approached her responsibilities with grace, and she loved people selflessly. And history called for that a lot.

I often thought that all the pomp was a little embarrassing to her. She loved the Scottish countryside.  She loved dogs and children. She was the queen.  But she was also an ordinary woman in extraordinary circumstances.  And she stepped to that often-difficult plate.

One of the news commentators last night, standing in the midst of a crowd in Edinburgh, remarked, "You can see with your eyes how much she was loved."  She walked with integrity through many troubled times.  And her gentle smile is what people will remember.

She is about to be written into dusty old history books.

But hopefully not forgotten.

Her life was not her own.  She served well and to the best of her abilities.

May integrity and love like that mark our lives as well.  We do not wear a crown to our job.  But everyday we serve in a Kingdom that will never end.

Do you realize about yourselves

    that Jesus Christ is in you?

                   2 Corinthians 13. 5

 May we all live graciously that way in whatever God places before us with peace and joy and a gentle smile for those on our paths.

 

 

The Urgency of Nudges

One of the things that I love about a dear friend is that his bandwidth extends far beyond his own needs.  As in the original electronic definition of the term, his "frequencies" are not just set on himself but sensitive to the nudges of God, living with a deep capacity to not just listen but respond.

Quite recently, feeling first a slight concern for a friend and then a stronger nudge to reach out, literally saved the life of one of his acquaintances.  The man had been gravely ill and did not realize how much.  And as far as my friend knows, no one else had checked up on him.  My friend knocked on his door in the nick of time.

Not every nudge is a matter of life and death.  Sometimes nudges from God are 911 calls, sometimes to fill a pothole or a gap with a kindness, sometimes just to come alongside, but always with an urging to respond.  God's nudges are never insignificant and remembered far more than we can know.

I cannot remember their names, nor even what they looked like, just that they seemed really old to me at the time.  But many decades ago when I was a struggling intern living in a strange city, an elderly woman sitting behind me in church, tapped me on the shoulder at the end of the service.  She and her husband introduced themselves and invited me and the two women I was with to join them for lunch.  The others accepted immediately.  As I was dependent on my friends for a ride, I was drawn into going as well.

When we arrived at the restaurant, I was in a really tight spot. The other women were joyfully ordering their lunches. Living on a strict shoestring budget, I could not afford to eat here.  I was hungry, but perhaps I could get by with nursing along a cup of coffee.  

And then I felt that tap on my shoulder again.  The old woman whispered into my ear, "This meal is on us.  Please order whatever you would like.  Our pleasure."  Even after all these years, I have never forgotten that kindness.

God nudged her.  She had no idea the significance of responding to Him.  It may have meant nothing to that couple, something in their habit, or just an opportunity suddenly before them in an unlikely place, or maybe even an inconvenience in their day.   But an unexpected kindness has no expiration date.  God nudged that couple, perhaps in the middle of a long-forgotten sermon, "What if you invite those girls to lunch today?"  Their response was yet another way of worshiping God.  There are always excuses not to respond.  But God always multiplies when we do and wraps His faithfulness all around it.

We can never comprehend what takes root or bears fruit.

Or what will be remembered.

                      And multiplies His glory.

In the morning sow your seed,

and at evening withhold not your hand,

for you do not now which will prosper,

                this or that,

or whether both alike will be good.

                   Ecclesiastes 11. 6

Not what I expected

Last week, my husband and I drove down a largely-rutted dirt road to a trailhead where we had not hiked before.  The road was not what I expected, but well, I chose to see it as part of the adventure.  Surprisingly, there were a few other cars and trucks parked at the rather abandoned-looking trailhead that led to a small lake. 

As we began hiking, Bill realized that there were two different routes to this lake, and he had downloaded the other trail in his hiking app.  So we could see where we were, but we could not see where we were going. There was a trail before us, be it not what we intended, ascending to a ridge, and it was a beautiful day for a hike.  We chose to hike on.

After a mile or so of upward trekking, we reached the ridgeline, and a beautiful lake appeared below us.  The trail continued, now steeply descending. I was not at all sure that I wanted to go down this now-rough trail. As we descended, all I could think about was that we were going to have to climb back up.  It was not an easy path, and at parts we had to pick our way through rock slides.

 

A few small snakes skittered across the trail.  And downward we continued, now through a fellowship of shade-giving trees, and then a winding path through large unidentifiable bushes.  The destination continued to be a mystery as the trail was sometimes invisible beyond just a few feet ahead.  I was really unsure about finishing this hike, where we were going, how we were going to get there, if the trail was just going to dead-end, and what we would encounter on the way.  Is this hard trail going anywhere?

The trail leveled off, still surrounded by scrubland, heading now into a deep dark woods.  Within about a quarter of a mile on this now-pine scented trail, an opening appeared, leading to the water's edge.  A young woman was standing there, who had been camping close-by with her brother.  She said nothing at first, but pointed to the beach.  Two shy deer, oblivious to us, were tiptoeing along the strip of sand and gravel.  

As we emerged from the woods, God surprised us with His glory.  Now, I was the speechless one.  It was like coming into the Presence of God.

My fear and trepidation evaporated into thin air.  The trail had been difficult.  But it was not random.  It did not just lead somewhere.  It led to this.  Just because something is hard does not mean we are on the wrong path.

What I thought was ominous turned out to be glorious.  It was not a fairy-tale happy ending but part of the journey right in the middle.  God filled my heart with the strength to keep on keeping on.

It was not what I expected.  It was even better.

The trail was the same, but I was changed.  We still had a steep climb back up, but my heart was overflowing.  I felt like God was saying to me, "Look beyond the rocks."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We cannot see what is ahead.  It may be unknown to us, but it is not unknown to God.  God brings His faithfulness to what transcends our imagination and transforms what is before us into a sacred encounter.

Even today. Even in this.

And He whispers, "Do not be afraid.  I am with you."

I saw an afternoon's outing, but God meant it for something much more.

 

And I will lead the blind

    in a way that they do not know,

in paths that they have not known

              I will guide them.

I will turn the darkness before them

                      into light,

the rough places into level ground.

These are the things I do,

    and I do not forsake them.

                      Isaiah 42. 16

 

 

Mile, mile and a half

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We had almost completed our passage through the woods, when we saw two women with a frantic-looking purse-sized dog standing stranded at the side of the trail, searching the GPS on their phones, as obvious as tourists lost on the Champs Elysee holding an enormous map.

They were looking for the "white" trail in the park's confusing network of interwoven paths of many colors.  My husband Bill gave them directions, and when they asked how far, he replied, "Mile, mile and a half."  The women looked greatly relieved.  "Oh, we can do that."

I chuckled.   On so many trails we have hiked through the years, the destination always seems to be coming up in a  "mile, mile and a half," according to Bill.  On a long uphill slog that seems to last forever, those words are not just a measurement of distance, not just practical advice, but a gift of hope. You are not done, but you are going to make it through.  This difficult part of the trail is not going to last forever.  Nor this impossible segment of life.

Despite blisters, heavy backpacks, unanticipated steep slopes, and turns in the trail when you thought it was the end but it was not.  Even then.  Mile, mile and a half, gives hope.  Not a cellophane-thin sparkly wishful thinking kind of hope, but a reality on which you can stake your life.

A reality, because we ourselves at one time or another have been handed hope and received mercy which empowers us to "find grace to help in the time of need." (Hebrews 4. 16) 

Endurance is sticking with it just a little bit longer.  Success has nothing to do with it.  Just not quitting yet.  It is not just believing, but knowing, you have yet another gear. Mile, mile and a half.  That strength from God, which is not our own, then overflows into the lives of every one around us.

You will get through this miry bog, this impossibly steep slope, through the glory of the trees.  And come out, maybe not in a familiar place, but strengthened in the journey.

What Rises to the Surface

 Now faith is the assurance

      of things hoped for,

the conviction of things

                 not seen.

         Hebrews 11. 1

 

For at least 137 years, an image remained hidden under a piece of cardboard.  In preparation for a larger exhibit of Van Gogh's work at the National Galleries of Scotland in Edinburgh this summer, an art restorer at the museum x-rayed Van Gogh's painting, the Head of a Peasant Woman, which he created in 1885. 

As the curator put it, in the x-ray image, "a ghostly face appeared," that had been neither known about or seen before.  It was a self-portrait of the artist himself, hidden on the back of the painting and covered up with cardboard.  Even now, the actual image can only be seen by x-ray.  Because of the many layers of paint and glue, it is extremely difficult to separate the two paintings.

But what a surprise.  The museum had owned the piece since 1960.  Nobody knew it was two paintings and not just one.  

It made me think about the passage in scripture when Daniel focused his heart on God and saw clearly what others could not see.

[The LORD] reveals deep and hidden things;

He knows what is in the darkness,

    and the light dwells with Him.

                     Daniel 2. 22

 

 

Under the portrait of our own lives, what image appears?  What is not just inextricably attached, but what is painted into the narrative of our story?  What has God redeemed?  Is the face of Christ imprinted in who we are and what we do and what we are all about? 

The individual daily elements of God's faithfulness to us are not always recognized by us in our lives, but the pattern of His Presence is evident, His encompassing hand, and His unique fingerprints.  His faithfulness leaves a lasting imprint, always something different that cannot be explained away.  We know even what we cannot see fully.  What is layered in our lives, even what is beyond our sight, always in some way comes to the surface.

God speaks over and over about the visible and invisible, the seen and unseen, all through scripture, because there is a solid different dimension to this life, not just beneath the surface but encompassing eternity.  We may not realize the implications yet, but we can know the God who works in what is immeasurable.

What we love, what we live for, changes us to the core, and a new image gradually emerges, engraved by years of walking with God, spending time in His Word, being changed by worship, praying continually, living faithfully, loving and serving God and others radically, and standing as a strong witness to His steadfast love. 

There may be a lot of chaos on the outside parts.  But God brings order to it from within.  God signs the name of Jesus on it. God redeems what we cannot ever realize. 

When we seek God, our hearts are transformed. He changes our vision.  We see God differently, we see others differently, we see ourselves differently, and we see our circumstances differently.  God brings His perspective to our hearts.  We no longer abide in the finite, but the eternal.  We realize something new that is not apparent on the surface.  We see Him. And we bear His image for His glory.

So we do not lose heart.

Though our outer self is wasting away,

our inner self is being renewed day by day.

For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us

an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison,

as we look not to the things that are seen

     but to the things that are unseen.

For the things that are seen are transient,

but the things that are unseen are eternal.

                       2 Corinthians 4. 16-18