Grace, Being, and Grandma Grace

I remember a time when I was young (not to say that I'm not still young ;-) but I mean when I was really, really young, still on the verge of becoming a teenager), when I was looking at some old pictures with my Grandma Grace, my father's mother. I came upon one picture of a beautiful young lady looking so elegant even though wearing clothes which were very much out of style and a bit strange looking for my era. I remember a hat perched more on the side of her head than on the top and which, to my young eyes, reminded me of a high heeled shoe placed upside down. But, she was beautiful. I asked, "Grandma, who is that?" Her answer was, "That's me. I was still a teenager then."

I was quite surprised. It was hard to connect that young girl to my grandmother whom I had only seen as gray-haired, plump, and old. And, that's where I made my mistake, but not the one that you might expect. I answered, "That was you? Wow. You were beautiful." Now, I had always seen my grandmother as beautiful, but not like that teenage girl. I knew people got old and I was both surprised but also not really. I was more impressed than surprised. That girl was my grandmother?! This was really cool!

But, her answer completely caught me off guard. "No, that was not me," and then with a slight pause and a slight change in tone, "that is me. You've never seen me looking like that, but that's how I see myself when I'm not looking in a mirror and sometimes even when I am. I'm older and I don't look like that anymore on the outside, but that's still me. I'm still that same girl." The words rang in my ear and, became one of those few events you remember not just as a vague memory, but with a distinct sharpness. I can close my eyes and still hear her voice and see the subtle expression in her eyes.

I don't remember what I did after that. I don't remember answering her, maybe just looking at her and at the picture and saying again, "You were really pretty." I'm not sure I understood what she meant then, but I do remember that I couldn't get away from it. I kept thinking about it and I still think about it. She had no problem with me using the past tense to say that she 'was' pretty. But, she objected to me using the past tense to speak of identity. "No, that was not me. That is me."

I'm now about the same age as she was when I talked to her on that day. I too know the feeling of looking in the mirror and suddenly realizing that you don't look like you tend to imagine yourself. There are wrinkles that tend to be smoothed over in my own thinking (better than Photoshop). There is some sagging skin and I don't really understand where it came from and when it appeared. Sometimes I even think it is just that I don't look so good today. Maybe I'm too tired, so that's why the skin above my eyelids is drooping and there are some little bags below my eyes that aren't normally there. But, to be honest, I know it is the new normal and that's just how I look now and it will get worse if I live longer.

But, she's also right. That's not really me. Or maybe I should say, that's me but not any more so than those teenage pictures of me that are in boxes somewhere. They all 'are' me. Or maybe not.

I should not define myself by the way I look. Oh, it really feels good when someone says, "You're 60? You don't look like you're 60." It doesn't matter that they're probably just being polite, and Taiwanese are famous for those exaggerated compliment that everyone knows are exaggerated or sometimes just not true. But, when I hear it, I don't even think about the fact that it's probably just a polite compliment other than a fleeting thought. It still feels good.

But, I should not define myself by how I look. In one sense, maybe a better way to think of it is that neither of those pictures is me. They're just a passing view of the same thing that continues on. I am what I am, not just what I look like, like Popeye was found of saying ("I am what I am and that's all that I am."). It is the person who is something, not the external appearance.

We put a lot of stock on appearances. People shown pictures of various mean tend to label those who are taller as smarter, more successful, more capable. Women are judged just as well. Obviously in the real world, being good-looking is no guarantee of success and anyone who wants to be successful still has to work hard to get there, but it's still true that we make judgments based on appearances. I'd like to think that I don't, but I'm pretty sure that I do.  I should focus more on the person I am being rather than how I look. But, I should also be looking for the "person" in the one in front of me instead of what that person looks like.

Something else that strikes me from this is that even what we are is not based on what we can see in a brief acquaintance over a period of time, but on what the person is, what they are becoming, and what they can become. I've benefited from others who saw in me something that even I didn't see at the time and they were willing to spend time with me to help me become more than I was.

And, maybe that's the most important thing that comes from this random train of thoughts. There aren't many people who practice that. We tend to look at a person and judge their abilities and even their character based on what we see now. That's maybe practical, since how can we know what a person could become? And yet, some people seem to do it. They can see things in someone that others don't see. Maybe they're more optimistic. Maybe they're just more willing to take a risk and when someone fails to develop as they hope, they are just unwilling to assume that others will also fail. Maybe they refuse to see failure as final.

But, I also tend to see this as something fundamental to our faith (even if it is little practiced in our lives). We read that while we were yet his enemies, Christ died for us. That's certainly not just looking at the present person. Maybe we could say, "Yes, but he was God. He knew that he could make us into something else," but that still ignores the fact that he didn't die for those who would believe and would  follow him wholeheartedly, dedicating their lives to him. He also died for those who would believe but would struggle in their faith. He also died for those who would reject him outright and even actively fight against him having any role in their lives.

That's a point of theology that we know is true, but don't really take at face value. We tend to think that he died for all, but that it's only 'for all' in a different sense. He died for them theoretically, while still writing them off in his heart. But, that's not the picture we see of Christ who wept over  those who rejected him and would still welcome them and actively pursue them, even leaving the 99 behind to rescue the one who didn't follow him back to the fold.

And, that's the greatest challenge of all to me. We shouldn't write anyone off. Ever. Not until they are dead and even then, recognizing that we don't really know their heart, what happened in their heart, and how God will deal with them, or what mustard seed of faith might have been there that we couldn't see. We read also that even many who seem to be followers of God might not be, and that God will say to some (and maybe we would be shocked to find out who those are) "Depart from me for I never knew you." Might there also be some that we will be surprised to see there? We just don't know.

It reminds me of phrase in a sermon of C.S. Lewis. I quote a portion below:

“It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which,if you say it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare. All day long we are, in some degree helping each other to one or the other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and the circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all of our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilizations - These are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit - immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.”

― C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

We should be looking (in faith) at what those around us (and we ourselves) can be, instead of just what they (we) are. That is our faith. That is grace. And, that is what God has done to us. That is what it means to be Christian.

Tricky Dick, Grace, and Forgiveness

It has been a very long time since I published anything to this blog. There was a period of time where my life was in such a turmoil I didn't feel like writing anything. Some or the turmoil still remains and maybe I'll share more of that later, but right now I just felt there were still some things I would like to share.

One of those things, and one that actually pushed me to start writing again, happened a this summer and I noted it down and continue to think about it. You may remember a lot of news reports 'celebrating' the 40th anniversary of the resignation of President Richard Nixon.

I don't want to spend a lot of time talking about Nixon, but I also realize that there are a lot of people young enough to only know about this from history class (and how much do most of remember from our history classes). So, some background:

President Nixon was one of the most hated men alive for my generation. Kennedy got us into Vietnam, Johnson expanded that war--correction, 'police action'--but Nixon really expanded it and was the focus of many student anti-war protests. I remember the turmoil the nation was in--maybe in some ways similar to today, but in some ways worse. Certainly, not everyone hated Nixon--he did get elected twice--but he was a very polarizing president and those who were against him were very strongly against him.

Then came Watergate, and that's were everything really fell apart. Nixon tried to deny any involvement but gradually the whole thing fell in upon him. As more evidence came in, we all began to see just how extensive the lies had been, and even then Nixon continued to vehemently deny all that he had done. He destroyed the trust of a generation and maybe some of that effect is still being seen today in the lack of trust in any politicians or in government as a whole. But, that's another topic for another day. For Nixon, it continued to unravel his presidency. Impeachment proceedings were begun and only when his most fervent backers met with him to tell him that there was no possibility that the impeachment would fail to pass, did Nixon resign.

Just before he announced that to the press and the world, he spoke to the White House staff (the servants) and then to his administrative staff and the speech was not prepared or written out. It was impromptu, and even a little rambling. But, what struck me was the line that was quoted by all the various news reports on the 40th anniversary, because it was one of those things that was worth sharing.

Nixon knew that he would be vilified in history. He also knew that, as much as he would like to blame (and had blamed) others, it was his fault. He was finally ready to admit it, though not publicly yet. He praised his staff and didn't even hint that they were to blame for anything that happened. Then he said,

Always give your best, never get discouraged, never be petty; always remember, others may hate you, but those who hate you don't win unless you hate them, and then you destroy yourself.

I am not interested in rehabilitating Nixon, but there is a lot of wisdom in that statement, but also a lot of grace. Those who hate you only win if you hate them back. Nixon showed himself to be a paranoid leader, but he learned something pretty valuable through it. We tend to hate people who hate us, but hatred only produces more bitterness and unhappiness in our own selves. If we hate those who hate us, we destroy ourselves.

Reminds me of Joseph, who was incredulous when his brothers late in life still feared that he would get even with them when their father died. They simply could not imagine any other outcome, because that is what they had done to Joseph decades earlier when they plotted to kill him and only reneged on that when the opportunity arose to sell him into slavery and make some money off it (Wonder what they did with that money). They sold him to traders on their way to Egypt where in all likelihood he'd be put to work in some grand building project and die in hard labor. Now, Joseph had the opportunity to get even and their father's death made that easier.

But, Joseph's answer was (paraphrased), "How could I do that? Am I in the position of God? I have no authority to punish you (though legally, he did with his high position in Egypt)." He didn't exonerate them (telling them bluntly that what they did had been evil), but he did forgive them. And, his forgiveness was not just tolerance (which is what much of what we call forgiveness actually is) but real forgiveness. It was over for him. That's grace. And, he not only didn't punish them, he had rewarded them and taken care of them and their families for years.

Nixon's statement showed great wisdom, but it was also practical. It doesn't help to hate. It only satisfies the hatred of your enemies and makes them feel even more right to have hated you. And, the bitterness destroys you.

But, Joseph doesn't go the practical route in his reply. How did he forgive them to such a deep and fundamental level. I think it is because he also recognized the hand of God in what the brothers had done. God didn't force them to do it, they plotted the evil solely of their own volition, and Joseph stated that very clearly as well. However, God, in a sense, twisted their plan into something good that resulted in the Joseph's rise to such a lofty position, but also saved the lives of many people from a 7 year famine. That's what Joseph said.

Ironically, the primary beneficiaries of that salvation were the very evil brothers who sold Joseph as a slave. And, that didn't bother Joseph one bit. For some people, even that would have created bitterness, but Joseph had a completely different world view than most people. God is sovereign, but that doesn't make God responsible for evil. Men make their own decisions and do what they want.

But, Joseph saw God as one whose sovereignty is so complete that it works in a way that is incomprehensible to us. We get things done by controlling others to the extent that we can and manipulating them as much as we can beyond that. We control by systems and rules. But, God can have sovereign control without controlling men's decisions and actions. And, if that is true, it should relieve us of a great burden. We may fear disasters and epidemics, but in everyday life what we really fear is that other people will harm us--whether it's a thug with a gun, a coworker who is manipulating the boss behind our backs, or a friend who could (and sometimes does) betray us.

But, if God can turn evil plans into good, then we don't have to worry that someone might do something to harm us, and when they do, we don't have to worry that this will be the end and have lasting results.

Nixon doesn't mention forgiveness, but for us that's the further result. We can forgive, and not just because to not forgive would only satisfy the one who harmed us. We can forgive because what they did, if it was wrong, was ultimately against God and not against us. And, God can turn evil into good for those who are willing to trust him, and that is the key component. What happened to Joseph in the end only happened because he was able to trust God. I don't think the story would have turned out that way if he had turned on his brothers when he had the chance.

No one can truly harm the believer, at least not in the ultimate long-term (eternal) sense. Others may harm you, but they only win if you turn on them and take the matter into your own hand. And then, you destroy yourself. Those who are willing to forgive and let God judge them are the ones who win. They are the ones who are blessed.

A Hero's Welcome (updated)

Probably just about every 5 year old thinks that their father is a hero. You don't even have to be a really great father for them to think you're wonderful at that age. Later that begins to change as the boy grows and discovers his father's weaknesses and as he begins to develop his own identity.

Just a couple of days ago, my father passed away, and I still thought he was a hero. I've been a part of a men's breakfast study group for the past year, and a couple of recent studies focused on fatherhood. As other men described their fathers, I realized again just how blessed I have been. There were very many times when I disagreed with him, when I didn't want to hear what he thought, and when I thought that he was old fashioned and even a bit naive, but I always thought of him as a hero to me. And, as time when on, I even found that he was right most of those times when I had gone my own way. But, I'm talking about heroes, not being right. What was it that made him a hero?

One was that he truly, unconditionally, unashamedly, relentlessly loved his wife--my mother. Note that I didn't just say that he was "in love." He loved her. There is a difference. It was active, not just a feeling. As my brother said yesterday, there were many people who thought that he was so wonderful because of how he took care of my mother the last 2 years of her life when she because so difficult and demanding due to her deteriorating health. In reality, he didn't just take care of her for 2 years; it was 58 years." She was 16 years old when they married and had already had a very difficult life--life threatening bouts with scarlet fever twice, abandoned by her father before she turned 6 and forced to live with relatives (along with her mother and brother), and with a very low self esteem. He made her finish high school, taught her to do all kinds of things, and told her every day how beautiful she was and how wonderful she was, and how much he loved her. And, he lived it daily, too. I have never had to wonder at the meaning when Paul tells husbands to love their wives as Christ loved the church. I only had to wonder why it seemed so easy to him.

He was a gracious man. He was a man, a man's man, a hard worker, a fisherman, a hunter, a mechanic, an electrician, a carpenter--in fact he could do almost anything and I said that not only when I was 5 years old, but again as a 16 year old, a 25 year old, all the way down to today. But, he was also the most forgiving many I have ever known--and that includes not just offenses against himself as we usually think of when we think of forgiveness, but also stupid mistakes made by people like his oldest son (I only have one brother, younger than me), like when I forgot that the bolts that hold the brake drums on were reverse threaded. I was checking the brakes and kept trying to break that "stubborn" bolt free until I finally twisted the head off, leaving the bolt still in there. That happened just as he walked out the door. I stood up and tried to keep him from seeing what I had done, to buy a little time. I thought I was so stupid and that he would surely have to remind me of that. I thought there was no solution now that I'd twisted it off. He said, "You do remember that those bolts are reversed threaded?--you have to turn them the other direction from normal bolts.". "Yes, sir, I remember." He paused just a moment and then said, "Did you remember in time?" "Uh, uhh, No, sir. (How did he know?)" He just smiled and said, "Well, that's easy to forget. It's not a problem. We'll just drill out the center with a bit that's barely smaller than the bolt, and then we can twist out the remaining thin pieces. Let's go ahead and go to the parts store and buy a replacement bolt and a drill bit." What a simple solution? How was he so smart? But, more than that, why didn't he take the chance to remind me of how stupid a mistake I had made? I knew my Daddy loved me.

He was shafted on a number of occasions by numerous people, and turned the other cheek. He didn't do it in a sissy way. He did it as a man who had nothing to prove, but even more, a man who knew that Jesus required it. I learned that this was not just an idealistic saying of Jesus. There were men (at least one man--my dad) who took it seriously and lived it. So, why was it so hard for me to do so? I'm still asking myself that question.

And, yes, he loved me and was not afraid to say it or act on it. I didn't find out until after high school that that was not the norm, that every Dad didn't do that. He told me every morning at breakfast and as he left for work, and every day when he came home and every night as we went to bed. He hugged me anytime one of us was leaving, any time something good happened, and often for no reason at all. He told me he was proud of me, even when I dropped out of Little League because I still couldn't hit that ball and got so bored in right field that I would start counting the bugs at my feet so that I'd miss the ball going by (and he was an avid baseball fan, especially the Tigers, so that was a big deal). Once I brought I guy home from college for the weekend and to my great embarrassment when I drove up to the carport, he came to the car and gave me a big bear hug when I got out. Right in front of my friend! I know I turned red and I don't think I hugged him back. And, on Sunday evening when we left to go back, he did it again and even said that he loved me. It did make me feel good, but I didn't want to admit that I was glad because I wondered what my friend would think, but as we were driving back to Auburn, my friend said, "You know, you are a lucky guy to have parents like that. They love each other and they love you. I don't remember my dad ever giving me a hug or saying he loves me. I'd give anything for that." And, I started feeling really lucky as I thought of what that must be like for this friend. I learned a lot from that, not just about love, but about being willing to do what is good without being afraid of what others might think.

As a teen, I began to be very disillusioned with the church and thought that once I got to be able to make my own decisions, I'd just quit going. It bothered me that in church, the "sinners" were all outside--drunkards, adulterers, etc., but those inside were the "righteous." But, "inside" I didn't see the kind of person that Jesus described and felt that no one was truly seeking that. They came to church and said that they believed, but at school on Monday, they were just like everyone else. I had decided that it was all tradition, or just a social network, and that no one really believed it. Well, except for my parents, but if they were the only ones, then they (in my mind) must be pretty naive. Fortunately, I met another guy, just a little older than me, who also believed, and I discovered that there were others. But, it came back to my parents because I got to see them 24 hours, and I knew it wasn't a front. That's when I decided to really go for it and make a commitment to Christianity.

I said he was a hunter, but though he sometimes brought home squirrels or birds, he never brought home a deer, even though he sometimes went deer hunting. I thought he was a bad shot (it never occurred to me that squirrels and birds were even smaller).eHe took me squirrel hunting a few times, but I couldn't sit still long enough to let the squirrels come close enough for us. He didn't take me deer hunting until I was in high school, but on that first hunt, we came upon a beautiful buck with a large rack. He motioned me to be still and quiet as he raised the gun, pointed it at the deer, took aim, and then...nothing. He just stayed there for a few minutes looking through the scope until the deer walked away. He put the gun down, looked at me and said, "Well, we got one. Wasn't he beautiful? And such a rack?" I looked a bit puzzled. "What do you mean by saying we 'got' one?" "We did. I got him in my sights, I kept him there. He walked away on his own, not because we scared him away. That's good enough for now. We aren't hungry. We have plenty to eat. A deer is too beautiful to shoot when you don't need the food. We hunted him and we won, beating out his animal instincts and survival skills. But, that doesn't mean we have to kill." I had a hard time with that one, but it stuck with me. You can "win" without taking the trophy, because you don't have to "prove" that you won. Such self-confidence. He didn't need a rack of antlers on the wall to make him feel good about himself. He was content in just himself knowing that he was competent and successful. So, why do I so often need to prove myself before others, go for the kill, seek the praise of others? I'm still working on that one also.

When we were leaving for Taiwan, he told me that he loved me and that he hated to see me go because he was going to miss me and he knew that if I went, I'd stay there. He knew what he was giving up, but he told me also that he was proud that we were going and that he wouldn't want to see us doing anything else in the world. He tried to be calm because my mom was a basket case the day we left, but he was crying when he hugged me goodbye. When our children were born, I know he and mom were both torn and they wanted desperately to have the grandkids near them like everyone else. As their health deteriorated, it got harder. We thought of coming back. The last time I left, he was crying more than I've seen him before and for the first time he said to me, "Billy, I don't want you to go. It's been so good to have you here with me again, and I'm so lonely." I looked at him, not sure what to say, but he quickly added, "But, I know without any doubt that you are exactly where God wants you, and with that, I don't want you to stay either. But, I'll miss you."

He was a believer, not just a proclaimer. He didn't just talk, he acted. but He was and is my hero. He is, other than Christ himself, what I wish I could be. I so badly wanted to get here before he died, not to tell him this. You see, I've already told him before, although his response was something like, "Of course you think I'm great. I'm your father. But, I'm no better than anyone else. You're just prejudiced toward me." He really thought that he was just "normal" and I couldn't convince him otherwise, but I know. And, the more I see of the world around me--and even more importantly, the more I know of myself--the more I know that he was not normal. He was my hero and always will be.

People keep saying that he is happy now that he is back with his beloved wife Auvlene, and that is certainly true. This last year was very difficult for him. But, I think we think that way because we are limited by our human thinking and feelings. I believe that even more joy to him is that he is with his Lord and he is rejoicing in that, while glad to have Auvlene by his side. You see, I think that on Sunday morning, he received a hero's welcome into the presence of God. I'd like to say that he deserved it, but again, that's just in comparison to most people. What he got was grace, but that was what he practice with others. When will I learn to be like that?

Why am I Doing This?

Last Sunday morning, I was a guest speaker at the Syi-le Church near us. I know most of that congregation, but there's always a few that I don't know. As I was getting to the climax a man in the back raised his hand. It's not very often that you get someone wanting to make a comment during a sermon on Sunday morning worship. It happened when I was speaking at a retreat in central China, but in that case it was a young girl who had never been to any kind of religious service before and didn't know what was "proper."

I paused and acknowledged him and he made a comment that supported what I was saying, so that was pretty cool. I went on from there. A couple of minutes later, during a short pause, this man stood up again to make a comment, and this time he didn't bother with raising his hand. This one caught me a little off guard, but again it wasn't anything that was a problem, and it did follow with what I was saying. Probably less than a minute later, it happened again, but it was more than just a sentence this time. This continued at least another 5 -7 times, each time getting longer, and closer together. And, none was against what I was saying, but each time it made it harder and harder to bring it back to the point that I was trying to make as I concluded, and made it harder to come to the conclusion.

As you might imagine, I was not completely enjoying this anymore. It was making it really hard to concentrate and hard to conclude. I wasn't sure if he was a church member, or just someone who happened to walk in, so I wasn't sure what to do, but I can tell you one thought that started running through my mind and coming back when I had already dismissed it. I wanted to say, "OK, do you want to preach this, or should I?"

At that point, I had lost focus, and by that I don't mean just that I could not focus on my sermon. I had lost focus on what I was supposed to be doing. What bothered me was that I had lost control and didn't know how to get it back. But, what made me think I should be in control? The man came up to talk with me afterward, and it was obvious that he knew a lot about Christianity (unusual here in Taiwan) but it was just as obvious that he was not a Christian.

What does this have to do with the topic of the Great Commission, Mission, and the Church? Well maybe it seems like a stretch, but it shows how easy it is to forget the goal in order to just keep on doing what you think you should be doing. Preaching is for the purpose of influencing people. So, I am invited to speak in a church. when I speak. How is that I can so quickly get distracted from the goal--of influencing people, moving people--to start focusing on the sermon itself, the tool.

And, I think that's the case with many churches in relation to their mission's program. We go through the motions, but forget the goal. And, the church is judged on how many people came through their program rather than what influence they are having on the world that doesn't know God and on their fellow believers who want to know Him better. And, when we forget the real goal and substitute a program or a plan, we betray our cause and find that we have often done more harm than good.

The church needs to evaluate itself in terms, not of what they are doing, but why they are doing it.  It's people, not a program or a plan.