Connecting the Dots

 

 

 

One of our four-year-old grandsons received an activity book last week.  In just a couple of hours, he completed every one of the dot-to-dot pages in it, seeking not to color the already drawn pictures, but to discover the hidden links and unearth the surprises there by connecting the dots.

There is not just movement and attaching lines in some semblance of order, but a story and meaning to those pages after all.  Connecting the dots between the now and next is what creates not just a picture but a narrative. 

Hip hop recording artist, songwriter, and story teller LeCrae tells us why we even wonder at all.  Why do we even think there is a picture there and not just a random scattering of dots?  "We must have a storyline for those things because without a storyline we struggle to attach meaning to the incident.  We desperately desire things to make sense…We are hardwired to want to know why."

We are curious about the mysteries of this life, particularly about the outlying dots that don't appear to make sense.  And even at this point, we wonder about that way-out-there unexpected dot marked 2020.

These crazy months are taking shape of what we never expected this year to look like.  And if we even think we can explain away or understand what is going on in the grander narrative, we definitely don't know much about God.

"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen...By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible."  (Hebrews 11. 1, 3)

Just because we don't fully understand doesn't mean there is not a sacred pattern to it, a divine design that would totally awe us. 

What is now and what is next is far beyond what we can see.

It is not that the details of a solitary picture come eventually together, but a myriad of full-blown multi-dimensional images in living color that are already there.  That is the amazing part of what pastor and author Timothy Keller calls "the adventure of His lordship."   We are not alone.  He is with us.

I may not see the picture at all.  I may not get it, even until the other side of life.   But God does.  And what God creates and redeems and restores is beautiful beyond words and comprehension.  

The unknown is not unknown to Him.

These dots all over the page may not make sense to us now.  The year 2020 may appear totally out of alignment with the flow of other years, at least in our myopic vision of things.  Or even in what we want the picture to look like.  It is not that someday it will make sense...or that someday it will be redeemed, but it already makes sense to God.  And He is already redeeming.

The picture is already there.  And we are in the midst of it.

Connecting the dots leads us to Him.  What emerges is the astonishing beauty of the eternal.  And that would be His steadfast love and faithfulness.

For now we see in a mirror dimly,

but then face to face.

Now I know in part;

then I shall know fully,

even as I have been fully known.

              1 Corinthians 13. 12

What is Missing?

Our in-town grandkids came over the other day, amazed by the Christmas decorations on the tree and the stockings hung by the chimney with care.  Our six-year-old granddaughter particularly is delighted by Advent, indeed even wearing something "Christmasy" every day, whether sporting a red scarf, plaid leggings, or dresses almost outgrown. 

I often wonder what these little ones will remember.

As she gazed at the stockings and the hearth, she suddenly exclaimed, "Something is missing!  Where is the manger?"

"Oh, it must still be in the attic," I replied.

"Please go get the manger," she directed. "I'll get baby Jesus ready."

And there among the boxes in the dark and chilly attic, our old threadbare camp chair lay, folded up and waiting.

When I returned, she had the baby doll ready, wrapped in an old blue flannel baby blanket.  She lay the baby gently on the "manger," as if honored to place Him there.

She knew, not just what was absent, but Who is the most important. 

What is missing?

That would be Jesus.

 

 

 

Behold, the virgin shall conceive

     and bear a son,

and they shall call His name

                  Immanuel,

which means God with us.

                Matthew 1. 23

                Isaiah 7. 14

And nothing but nothing

   will ever be the same.

Joy to the World!

A Token of Remembrance

Our tree stands in the corner of the living room, strung with tiny white lights and embellished with mostly homemade ornaments from past Christmas seasons, some of which add beauty, some of which with glue and sparkles and the creative minds of children reflect grace and joy.  We laughed as we hung some of these this year, and we felt tugs of sentiment as our daughters are now all grown.  "Remember when...?" There is the angel made of Sculpty clay, part of the wing missing, dated 2001.  There are the painted golf balls.  Styrofoam shapes covered in glitter.  A school picture pasted onto a star.

This year's Christmas celebration will be very different in this time of covid.

And yet, the angel still says:

"Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.  For unto you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord."  (Luke 2. 10-11)

 

What will we remember this Christmas?

We worship not a worldview,

nor just a holiday,

             but the reality of Our Savior,

        a Promise made flesh that never changes. 

              Immanuel.  God is with us.

Fear not.  Even in this.

Pockets of Time

With the onset of motherhood, even with our firstborn daughter, I learned to value even the smallest pockets of time, those unexpected moments of which so much of life is established.  

As a pioneer in the then-foreign world of working from home, I can remember having freelance writing tasks and projects lined up, ready to run, just hoping for our baby to possibly nap.  Ready, get set, go.  I could not do everything, but I could do something.

It was amazing how much I could get done in ten minute increments.

I was reminded of those fruitful moments recently when I literally needed to flex my muscles.  With the onset of a tight shoulder, I knew I needed to add some weights to my daily exercise.  My daughters recommended some online Peloton arm and shoulder workouts, which are largely scheduled in 10 minute increments. 

Ten minutes?  I questioned what ten little minutes could do.  But just ten minutes is something I could do, not as daunting or time-consuming as an hour workout.  But I can probably squeeze in a ten minute pocket of time. 

Ten minutes largely occupies liminal space --that no man's land between what was and what is next. It is comprised mostly what we consider wasted minutes waiting in-between appointments.  But the Latin word limen does not mean an empty place, but a threshold -- a point of stepping into another room, entering a new experience, preparing for a transition, even into what is yet to come.  That threshold is a divine appointment in itself.

Still skeptical, I ordered two three-pound weights and signed onto a ten minute session of arm and shoulder exercises to the tunes of Whitney Houston.  Those ten minutes were filled to the max.  I endured.  I did it.  And the next day, I did it again. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And again. And again.  It is amazing the difference that daily ten minute appointment has made in my shoulder.  In the New York Times, Gretchen Reynolds recently wrote that even eleven minutes of exercise a day pushes back against the consequences of inactivity.

Thinking in minutes helps me move beyond reluctance.  Ten minutes gives me a foothold to get out of the paralyzing miry bog of mere good intentions.

What if I approached what is needful or even overwhelming in ten minute increments?  I don't have to clean out my entire closet, but just contribute ten minutes.  I don't have to write a thousand-page Russian novel, but I can write part of a story, a poem, or a blog for ten minutes.  I made surgical caps for frontline workers, ten minutes at a time.  I can't read the entire Bible in one sitting, but ten minutes a day over the course of the year changes my heart.

I just need to cross that threshold.  I promise myself just ten minutes.  And more often than not, seizing those little pockets of time is all I need to get going. 

And I feel like God chuckles, "Now watch what I do with this."  God brings the fruitfulness to it.

 

So teach us to number our days

that we may get a heart of wisdom.

                       Psalm 90. 12

 

Not just seizing the day, but that little ten minute pocket

           that isn't so insignificant after all.

And letting God redeem it

             into something incredible.

Not Even Aware

Throughout the pandemic lockdown in the spring, we enjoyed a variety of birds at our bird feeder, even observing birds not just of another feather, but those species that shouldn't have even appeared in this part of the country or at that time of year.  

Sometime in May, we ran out of bird seed.  We took down the feeder, because the only visitor was an insistent squirrel who dined like a football player at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Just in the past week, Bill hung the bird feeder back up on the deck and filled it.  

Within minutes, a bright red cardinal appeared.  Within an hour or two, a chorus. 

 

We had no idea the immense beauty just waiting in the trees beyond our sight.

By what wonders are we surrounded every day?  God makes visible the invisible, that of which we are so unaware.  Are we even watching for the fingerprints of His glory in our day?

 

Now to Him

who is able to do far more abundantly

than all that we ask or imagine,

according to the 

        power at work within us,

to Him be glory....

                      Ephesians 3. 20

 

 

The words of the old 1905 hymn  still sing true and strong today in 2020, even in this strange year. Click here.

His eye is on the sparrow

And I know

     He watches over me.