Is That All There Is?

"'Meaningless! Meaningless!' says the Teacher. 'Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless." (Ecclesiastes 1:2)

I was reminded of an old Peggy Lee song as I was reading the above scripture: Is That All There Is?

Chorus: "Is that all there is? Is that all there is?

If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing. 

Let's break out the booze and have a ball. 

If that's all there is."

Last verse:  "I know what you must be saying to yourselves

If that's the way she feels about it why doesn't she just end it all?

Oh no, not me. I'm not ready for that final disappointment.

Because I know just as sure as I'm standing here talking to you

That when that final moment comes and 

I'm breathing my last breath, 

I'll be saying to myself, 'Is that all there is?'"

It's a great song. But it is a very sad song, a hopeless song. And it reflects the universal sentiment of meaningless and a sense of the absurdity of life that many have at present. 

We exist. And then we don't. The product of the evolutionary teaching of man. We are stuff, a product, material in a consumeristic world, a pawn in whatever political games that are being played. Heroes one day; villains the next. Essential one day; expendable the next. Who can make sense of it all?

 It's why the suicide rate over the last year and half has been exponentially higher. It's why spousal and child abuse is at an all time high. Alcohol. Drugs. Gun violence. Why not just be done with it all?  

I would like to say, "No, Peggy. That's not all there is." But...perhaps for the type of person the song is singing about...it is. Life lived without purpose. Life not lived for the greater eternal good. Not realizing that there is an eternity. Sad. But an opportunity. 

The opportunity is to teach people to live with life's paradoxes. In the midst of the upheaval of life we can still find things to enjoy, to give thanks for, to celebrate. Joy is often found in the simple and the taken for granted. 

In the mist of the temporary, we need to remind each other of the present value of people we love and who love us. In this temporary world, we need to point people to Jesus, to the Way, to the Truth, to the...Life...abundant here and eternal there. 

If we live like this, our last breath won't be a disappointment, Peggy. 

Forget the booze but I'm gonna dance with the wife, love on my kids and grandkids, love and serve my Lord and church family, enjoy the cardinals on my back deck, visit with my neighbor, Ron (who knows all things neighbory), take a walk down by the river, and have a ball.

What a great life...if that's all there is. 

Afghanistan

 "Do not oppress a foreigner; you yourselves know what it is like to be foreigners, because you were foreigners in Egypt." (Exodus 23:9)

It was a long, hot, autobus ride down to a small village in southern Lebanon - a known Hezbollah area (terrorists). We arrived at the American pastor's home who was endeared by all and called, "Papa" by the locals (6 foot 6 inches tall with a full and neatly trimmed all white beard; more fluent in Arabic than the locals). We split up into two vans. I went with the pastor. We were going to visit a man and his family to share the gospel. It was not a good day. 

We arrived to this house made of leftover 8 inch cinder blocks with a metal roof and tiled floors - no bigger than my living room but housing at least ten people. Simple fabric separating living and sleeping quarters. Cooking was done outside. There was yelling and screaming in Arabic. The father had basically sold his oldest daughter into marriage to a Hezbollah officer who was three times her age. She refused and said she would commit suicide rather than to be a slave. All her hopes and dreams shattered in one decision by her father. It was no idle threat. My heart broke. What could I do?

Others in the small community that were even of different Muslim faiths, e.g. Shia or Sufi, were denied jobs or given jobs no one would want to do. So sorry to inform the reader but most of the world does not have antidiscrimination laws. And the Christians...we toured a very scary re-education center (nice words for prison where they torture or kill you and your family). I couldn't wait to get out of there. What could I do?

All of these memories came flooding back this week as my eyes were on Afghanistan. Already the systematic killings/beheadings are taking place. I thought about my Christian brothers and sisters. Trapped. Terrified. Caught. Concerned. 

This was all brought home when I received an email from one of my co-laborers from the International Student, Inc., ministry that I was involved with at George Fox University in Newberg, Oregon. She sent out a note a few months ago from one of her students who I had met and then remembered who was from Afghanistan. Two months ago...she asked for financial help to get her family out of the country. Two months ago word was already out the the U.S. was pulling out of the country. Two months ago she was already in fear for her families' lives. What could I do? 

Men heading for execution. Wives raped and indentured or killed. Girls as young as 9 and 10 (prepubescent) being "married" off to men as old as 50 or sold into the sex slave trade, boys being sold into hard labor slavery or forced to be a soldier. What can I do?

I was convicted this morning as I was reading through some of the "exilic" writings (those written during the exile to Assyria and Babylon). God has a huge heart for those that are refugees - foreigners pushed out of home and life because of external conflict. They aren't seeking a better life. They are seeking to live. 

My passion for mission has inflamed. My hunger to go has resurfaced. My spirit aches. What can I do? Holy Spirit lead. 

Me.

Us.

Pray.

Dust to Dust

 "For dust you are and to dust you will return." (Genesis 3:10b). 

I've been thinking about death lately. Not my own but the recent homegoing of family members - two cousins in the same family and an aunt on my side of the family and on Deb's. Brother and sister were cremated and lie in separate decorative boxes next to each other. 

I was asked to officiate for the sister. What an honor. But I haven't seen her in almost 40 years. I just remember that she was quiet, seldom smiled, and had really long hair. It's the distinguishing phrase, "I knew of her" rather than "I knew her." Hard words to say about one's own extended family but...such is the transitional life we all lead willingly or unwillingly. 

I haven't been home in twenty years so those words would apply to me as well. They all knew of "Danny" but very few know the Reverend Doctor Daniel Lute. Seeds scatter and new lives grow in other gardens. 

I recently read an article of a woman whose husband was a potter. All his life he would talk about the work that fire does in bringing to "life" the dull and vulnerable clay. Fire hardens and beautifies. 

She thought about that as she held her husband's decorative box of ashes. It was all of him -ashes and bits of bones - even the wedding ring on his left had was reduced to its basic components. It was all of him but yet, none of him. His laugh wasn't in this box. His frustrations or joys or celebrations or defeats were not in this box. His love was not in this box. Somehow it was all of him but none of him. Where was the beauty in this?

I thought about this with cousin Pam and cousin Tom and soon to be Aunt Suzanne and Aunt Cheryl. Somehow it is all of Pam, but really none of her. Somehow it was Tom but really none of him. Somehow the body laying before us is Aunt Suzanne or Cheryl, but really none of her - just the shell that housed who she really was. 

I'm not saying that the body is not important. I have a graveside service for a reason. It was the body that we hugged, that we kissed, the hand that we held, the eyes that we peered into, the vessel we recognized in the restaurant or walking through the county fair midway. The body is important and so much so that God will raise it up at the end of days. But it is the soul, the spirit, that brings flesh and bones to life. 

Where is the beauty in this? 

Perhaps it is in the sense that you can bury the body but you'll never be able to separate the memories of the immaterial. I find this in celebration of life moments when family members laugh at something the person would always say or do. Old Christmas or vacation memories. Moments in the relational library that can be pulled up when prompted. The tangible, yellow Polaroids, where everyone wore the same sweater vests with striped 1960's pants, and white belts. Maybe memories are not so great. 

As I put my reading glasses on to see those old photos, to read the dated articles, I was reminded that the most important element of the day was not that which was housed in the box but in my memories. Perhaps this is the beauty that was intended. 

"Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust. We commit this body to the grave and the spirit to God from which it came." 

 

Stressed

 "We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to this present time." Romans 8:22

Beside the Wabash River, in Logansport, Indiana, lies the Little Turtle Waterway Trail. A beautiful, scenic, paved trail that hugs the river and gives breathtaking views of the state's proclaimed waterway and exposed bank areas. (I am finding myself humming with the Mills Brothers version - On the Banks of the Wabash Far Away; On The Banks Of The Wabash, Far Away (1943) - The Mills Brothers - Bing video). 

The trail was named after a Miami Indian chief by the same name (Little Turtle) who was an advocate for peace with the many European settlers making their way to the expansive west. It's hard to believe that Indiana was once thought to be the untamed frontier but as I said in a past blog...give it a few years without tending and "Mother Nature" will reclaim what has been tamed. 

Deb and I were walking this trail Sunday afternoon - glad for the respite of high humidity days that consumed us for the last week or so. We came to a particular clearing and we noticed all the dead leaves on the trail. It took us a bit by surprise since Fall is technically a few months away. Perhaps it is coming early this year. I've noticed the subtle color change and dropping of leaves from my Red River Birches in the backyard as well. 

No worries. It's just stress. When trees are exposed to such hot days without rain they begin to get rid of things, like leaves, for self-preservation - anything to save the tree itself. Stressed trees. Who would have thought.  

Nature is a great teacher if only we would be good students. As long as we live in this broken world their will be stress. Jesus said, "In this world you will have tribulation" and with that tribulation comes inevitable stress. 

The tree is smart enough to shed that which it can survive without. If only we had such wisdom. Instead, we cling to the thing that brings about the agony not realizing that it is not essential. We cling in order to retain that which we think we need, but in the end puts greater stress on the trunk. In many cases we know its not even a need but a want that makes life a bit more enjoyable. And yet we cling. 

Like the earth in general we groan, realizing in the depths of our being that something is not right -externally or internally. The earth is waiting for us to be what we have been created to be - fully redeemed by the coming of our Lord. Only then will she rejoice. Only then will she de-stress as well as us. 

Until then...look for more dead leaves and bewildered walkers.  

Behind the Scenes

 "But one thing I do:  Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead. I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 3:13b-14)

"May the Lord show mercy to the household of Onesiphorus, because he often refreshed me and was not ashamed of my chains. On the contrary, when he was in Rome, he searched hard for me until he found me...You know very well in how many ways he helped me in Ephesus." (2 Timothy 1:15)

I have been watching a little of the Olympics in Tokyo the last few days. I have been especially interested in the back stories of many of the athletes. Some from notable universities with major sport complexes. Others from unheard of cities who practiced in ponds, back roads, barns, and anywhere that would improve their skills. But they all had one thing in common: support. Mom's and dad's willing to sacrifice. Siblings willing to be second. Highschool gym teachers that pushed and college coaches that saw "something" in a person. Fellow athletes willing to share moments, struggles, advice, or simply, companionship on this short journey. These athletes did not get there on their own. 

I was reminded of a few things this week. First, I was reminded of the privilege that I had to pray for our youngest daughter's commencement service at Western Michigan University. I prayed and gave thanks for all the sacrifice that parents and siblings made so that that student could attend university and perhaps have a better life. Hopefully, paying it forward. They didn't do it alone. 

I thought of a phone call with a brother in Christ Sunday afternoon who reminded me that although a previous ministry that I was involved in was incredibly difficult most of the time, that God, in His grace and mercy, provided deep and abiding friendships to sustain us and get us through that time. So true. We didn't do it alone. 

I thought about this as the Olympic commentators were interviewing family members here back in the states at three o'clock in the morning. Very little sleep because of the time change. Wow. 

Still supporting. Still sacrificing. Still Covid restricted. Yet never alone. 

I was reminded of the words of the Apostle Paul to the Romans when he said, "None of us lives to himself alone and none of us dies to himself alone." (Romans 14:7) We need each other and we ultimately belong to the Lord. 

None of us find success alone. 

Mother Nature

 "Cursed is the ground because of you, through painful toil you will eat of it all the days of your life. It will produce thorns and thistles for you and you will eat the plants of the field." (Genesis 3:17b-18)

Deb was in Florida with the youngest daughter and grandkids this last week. Which meant I was getting some honey-do projects accomplished in her absence. 

When we first bought our house last November, I couldn't really tell if the siding was white, black, or green. Original color. Mold. Mildew. The neighbor's vinyl fence on the north that separated our property was the same mystery. 

We were blessed to have new windows put in last week so the time had arrived to give the house and driveway a nice pressurized bath - a 2000 psi washing. The unveiling. Just what is under all that grime?

As I washed I was thinking about how the curse affects me constantly. Every week I am mowing grass, trimming branches, killing ants, chasing destructive gofers, pulling down invasive vines, spraying weeds that are coming up in my new rock landscaping, killing ants (did I say that already),etc. I am on the look out for branches that have grown to the point of poking my eyes out and for whatever dead or poisonous plants have found a home on my property. 

My neighbor, Ron, who knows all things neighbory, was watching me do all things to battle the curse and he said, "Imagine if we just let things go for five or ten years. Mother Nature will always have her way." 

Mother Nature. Not sure where that term came from but it's not endearing. We hardly ever speak of her except when there is some sort of environmental calamity. Don't mess with Mother Nature. She represents the brokenness of our world, not the old lady with a plant growing out of her hat and all the wild animals cheerfully playing together and feeding in her backyard. 

Truth be told. Those critters have eaten all of her flowers, destroyed her garden, and are eating each other in a evolutionary feeding frenzy. 

I thought about this. My little house would be solid green or black. Trees would completely cover my roof and vines would creep into every crevice that could be found. Weeds would completely take over any rock surface, driveway, and even roads. 

All we have to do is look at societies that died out, where no human life pushed back against the tide of broken creation, to see how nature will take back what we have stolen from her. I would be living in an ancient Incan city where people from the future would come and discover the long lost city of Logansport. 

But then I reread Genesis 1-3. The curse was connected to the sweat and fight it would take to do what actually we were created to do. In reality, Adam was created with "Gardner," "Caretaker," as his job description - pre-Fall. Pruning and mowing the grass by moving goats around, transplanting flowers, cultivating the soil so nutrients could get down to the roots - all of this was a joy. 

Even today when you see a well-landscaped home or golf-course, when you see a well tended park or even cemetery, you see more than a person pushing back at the curse but an affirmation that man was created to care, to beautify, to appreciate, to create as well. 

All I know is that I have a internal satisfaction at the effort put into mowing the yard and pressure washing the house, and seeing my roses bloom in clean landscaping, and getting black soot off of my driveway. 

Doing what I've been created to do or at least until I get too old and have to pay the neighbor kids to do it. Until then, my fight against Mother Nature and black ants continues. 

Center of the Road

 "Let your eyes look straight ahead, fix your gaze directly before you. Make level paths for your feet, and take only ways that are firm. Do not swerve to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil." (Proverbs 4:25-27)

In reading the Gospels, I am reassured when I see Jesus saying "no" to what, on the outside, looks like a great ministry plan. 

"Jesus, there are a lot of people already showing up to see you today. It's going to be a great day." 

"No, we are leaving and going to another village."

"What?" 

"Disciples, we are going to head back home to Galilee. Let's go." 

"Ummm....aren't we going the wrong way? No Jew goes through Samaria."  

"No. We go through Samaria." 

"If we go to Jerusalem they will kill you. We can't go. Let's stay up here in our own stomping grounds." 

"No. We must go to Jerusalem." 

Paraphrasing of course, but true accounts of Jesus and his earthly journey. He always seemed to be focused on what was needed to accomplish his mission and what was not . He didn't turn to the right or to the left. Center of the road. No blurred vision. 

I recently said "yes" to being on a local community board. I was privileged to be asked, especially since I am so new to the community. And...it seemed to fall in line, at least on appearance, with what my mission is. 

Within a week -trouble. Employee trouble. But as I received further documents I began to see clearly that the organization itself was in trouble. Mission creep. That which it started out to be and for which it was named is no longer the focus of the organization. The tail is wagging the dog. The dog is tired of being wagged. Have you ever seen some of those dogs with stubby tails, tails that were cut off as pups? Inference. 

My initial thought was to immediately resign since it had only been a month since I was admitted. No harm. No foul. I didn't sign up for this. I am an unpaid volunteer who simply wanted to devote some time to make a difference in the community in which I live. What should I do? A feel like a ditch is in my future if the car doesn't correct itself. 

But...I am beginning to see a divine purpose in the tumult. A board member possibly returning to the church that I currently serve - a place he grew up but has since left. The ability to use my peace-making skills and conflict management skills. The opportunity to do something significant with other community leaders, to right something that has gone left, to renew a ministry that is still desperately needed. The privilege of carrying with me the presence of Jesus to employees who need the saving grace of God. 

I was reminded that we want life to be easy but its not - or shouldn't be. Our greatest strength in times of trial is recognizing our weakness - our inability to manage the circumstance, to change an organization, to change a person, to change oneself. Reflection. 

"But Jesus, its easier to go around." 

"No. Through Samaria we go."

Center of the road. 

A divine opportunity. Pray.