This morning I am thinking about the great meal I enjoyed while out with
a friend. Before bringing out the main
course, our server offered each of us a little cup of sorbet. He said it was to cleanse our palates. My friend said, “Sure!” But I declined. I cynically suspected it was just the
server’s way of buying time. I figured
if I said “No thanks,” it would make him bring our meals more quickly. It didn’t.
So, while my friend consumed the palate cleanser, I had to sit and
watch…and wait. I should have just
agreed to partake, too. When the server
finally presented us with the main course, I said, “So, tell me about that
palate cleanser.” He explained that it
was intended to clear our taste buds of the flavors from our appetizers to
prepare them for the flavors of the main course. Although my meal was absolutely delicious, I
couldn’t help but wonder if it might have been even better had I cleansed my
palate first. Being completely
intrigued, I Googled “palate cleansers” as soon as I got home. I learned that some palate cleansers are
bland—like milk, bread, or just plain water.
Other palate cleansers are tart—like the sorbet I had been offered
earlier that evening. In either case, their
purpose is to neutralize the taste buds and remove competing flavors. As I reflect on this today, it is helping me
make sense of some of the seasons of my life that seem a bit bland or maybe even
kind of tart. Perhaps these seasons are
intentionally ordained to cleanse my heart, mind, and spirit of things past…of courses
that may have been quite enjoyable, but they were only appetizers for something
else, something greater. I recall that
my rejection of the palate cleanser in the restaurant didn’t hasten the
appearance of my main course at all.
Likewise, my resisting the seasons of waiting, of silence, and of
stillness won’t usher God’s perfectly prepared courses into my life any
faster. In these seasons of preparation,
I would be wise to yield myself to a thorough cleansing from the taste of what
was, so that experiences from my past will not overpower or taint the taste of
my tomorrows. Now that I understand it a
little better, I will gladly partake of that which prepares me to fully enjoy
and appreciate what is to come.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Monday, October 13, 2014
Why Me?
This morning I am thinking about the question that was posed to me by a
fourth grade girl. She is one of six
students with whom I am currently engaging in a book study at her school. To give a bit of background, I asked the
principal to intentionally select students for the book study who were not at
the top of their class. I wanted those were
not strong readers and whose classroom conduct was not necessarily exemplary. What I really hope to do is to provide
something for these students they may not have previously experienced…something
I feared they may never get to experience if I didn’t take action. I want to expose them to interesting
literature and support them as they interact with it in meaningful ways. I want to help them make connections between
the literature and their daily, lived reality.
I want to guide them to reflect, speak, and write in response to
literature. I want them to be part of a
group in which all are accountable and all are successful. So, the first day I met the students I shared
how we will learn together through our book study, and I invited them to ask me
questions. That’s when one girl, who had
been relatively quiet, asked “Why did you choose us?” The look on her face
was one of puzzlement. It was not so
much that she didn’t understand what I had said. The truth is that she was incredulous. Looking in her eyes, I discerned that there
were other questions, unspoken. “Don’t
you know we can’t read? Don’t you know
we failed the big reading test? Don’t
you know we get in trouble a lot?” I was
pierced by the bare honesty of the moment, and I answered the one question she
had dared to ask out loud. My answer was
simple: “I chose you because I wanted to.”
After I had dismissed my little group to rejoin the rest of their class,
I was quickly writing some notes to leave for the teacher. I was startled when I felt arms wrapping
around me from behind. I turned to look
into the face of the girl who had earlier asked me such a poignant question. She didn’t say a word…just smiled. But, once again, I could see in her eyes
something unspoken. It was “Thank
you.”
Monday, September 8, 2014
Who I Am
This morning I am thinking about the exceptionally wonderful experience
of seeing my name in print recently. My
boss had emailed me the agenda for an upcoming meeting, at which she wanted me
to share some information. My eyes moved
quickly down the page, as I previewed the scheduled topics and presenters. Then I saw my name with these two letters in
front of it: “Dr.” I was suddenly overcome with emotion, and I started to cry. After four rigorous years of reading,
writing, and research, I had finally completed my doctoral program! While I was overjoyed to have achieved this
goal, I hadn’t asked anyone to start calling me “doctor.” I didn’t want to make a big deal about
it. I wanted to convey, through humility
and sincere gratefulness, that I am still the same person. However, something is different. I have been
forever changed by the knowledge, experience, and insights gained over the past
four years. Sure, I could choose not to
apply the lessons I’ve learned, but I cannot unlearn them. The reality is that whether or not anyone
likes it, believes it, supports it, or agrees with it, “Dr.” is a part of who I
am. Reflecting on this, I have gained a
bit of confidence to share about another rigorous course of learning in which I
have been engaged. It was not a program
for which I signed up. Yet, I found
myself enrolled full time after my beloved big brother passed away in July
2012. Up until then, I believe I held a
metaphorical Bachelor’s degree in Faith.
I knew some stuff about God, for sure.
But, in order to acquire the conviction and character that are
prerequisite for the next level of my ministry and destiny, I needed to
complete some graduate level courses.
The last five months, in particular, have felt very much like a
dissertation and defense! I haven’t
spoken to anyone about it. I haven’t
shared about the tests…or the tears…not even to those who are closest to
me. Through a process I cannot
adequately describe, I am being made aware
of and liberated from the limits of reliance upon two gods—my emotions
and my intellect. I have been learning
how to walk in wisdom that says, “Trust God,” even when my emotions and
intellect tell me otherwise. I have been
introduced to Truth that transcends logic, and it is not something I can
unlearn. Whether or not anyone else
likes it, believes it, supports it, or agrees with it, it is a part of who I am. I don’t want to make a big deal about it,
though. In fact, I have to smile as I
recall something my big brother used to say.
He’d say: “Notice, you never hear a tree screaming, ‘Hey, look at
me! I’m growing!’ It just grows.” So it is for me. I have been planted in the soil of hope, in a
field of miracles. Here is where I will
grow into who I am meant to be.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
On Purpose
This morning I am thinking about the peculiar sight I beheld on my way to
work the other day. It was a
hearse. Seeing a hearse was not, in
itself, unusual. But, hitched to the
back of the hearse was a trailer filled with a variety of lawn equipment. My initial reaction was to chuckle. It was just so odd. Then I began to question exactly what I was
seeing. Clearly, the trailer wasn’t
attached to the hearse by accident. It
had been hitched there on purpose. But,
what was the purpose? Was he going to
show up to do lawn maintenance at people’s homes driving a hearse? Would that same hearse, on another day, be
leading the solemn procession of someone’s dearly departed? Could that vehicle really be serving such a disparate
double duty? And, while it sure looked
like a hearse to me, maybe I was dead wrong.
Perhaps it was someone’s personal vehicle. If it was a personal vehicle, did he use it
for everyday things? Did he periodically
get unhitched and drive it to the grocery store, the movies, or the beach? I never got to ask the lawn-dertaker any of
those questions. I was just left to
wonder. So, now I am posing an important
question to myself. “What kinds of
things might I be dragging around that cause others to wonder about my true
purpose?” Certainly, I have been guilty
of hitching myself up to some odd things that don’t fit with who I am called to
be. Regrettably, I know that my
hypocrisy has sometimes left people to wonder.
As I ponder this, a favorite psalm comes to mind: “Teach me Your way, O
Lord; I will walk in Your truth: unite my
heart to fear Your Name” (Psalm 86:11).
For me, this is a continual prayer, because I have experienced the
paralyzing prison of double-mindedness and a divided heart. Today, I lift this prayer yet again. I pray for grace to conduct myself with
integrity. I pray for power to become unhitched
from things that are merely distractions and deterrents. And I pray for wisdom to walk confidently in
my true calling to be a conduit of love, compassion, understanding, and peace…with
purpose, on purpose.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Daddy, Please.
This morning I am thinking about my conversation with a colleague about
the young child she recently adopted. We
laughed as she shared how her husband absolutely dotes on their new son. One thing that especially brought a smile to
my heart was hearing what her son does when he’s out shopping with his dad and sees
something he likes. He simply points to
the thing he wants and says, “Daddy, please.”
Although he has only been with
them a short time, their son has observed a pattern of behavior in his father
that indicates two things: his father is
able to give him good things and his father is willing to give
him good things. Sometimes their son is
given the object of his desire right away.
At other times, he doesn’t leave the store with what he wants. Yet, he doesn’t fret over it. Because sometimes, on an ordinary day when
the child is just playing contentedly, his dad will present him with a surprise...a
toy, a game, or something else that he’d previously requested. In those moments, both father and child are
delighted. That conversation with my
colleague stirred up happy memories of “asking and receiving” from my own
dad. It has also led me reflect on how I
approach my Father, God, about the things I desire. In doing so, I had to swallow a rather bitter
pill of truth. Somewhere along the line,
I forfeited the simple gift of asking. I
traded it for second-guessing, manipulating, pining, and whining. At the root of it all was the fact that I simply
did not like to wait. I wanted what I
wanted when I wanted it! Well, one of
the beautiful things about the truth is that it restores clarity for me. And, what is clear to me in this moment is
that, over the course of my life, I have observed a pattern of behavior in my
Father that indicates two things: He is able
to give good things to me and He is willing to give good things to
me. In my spirit, I sense a sweet
invitation to “Ask what you will.” I realize that I might not receive it all
today…or tomorrow. But I trust that, on
ordinary days when I’m just praying contentedly, He will present me with the
desires of my heart. For now, I simply
say, “Daddy, please.”
Tuesday, July 8, 2014
Daddy's Got Him!
This morning I
am thinking about an adorable little boy I saw while at the mall recently. I am guessing he was a little more than two
years old, and he was clearly exploring the boundaries of his
independence. About two feet in front of
the boy, his father was leading. He looked
back at his son every few seconds, smiling.
Trailing about two feet behind the boy was his grandmother. She was pushing an empty stroller which the
boy had apparently rejected. All of a
sudden, the little fellow stopped dead in his tracks. When his father turned to look, the child flashed
a mischievous grin, turned abruptly, and took off running in the opposite
direction. I couldn’t help chuckling
when the boy put a wicked move on his grandmother, slipping past her
outstretched arms that were intended to catch him. Running as fast as he could, the boy darted
into a store. He never looked back, so
he didn’t realize that his father was in full pursuit and closing in on
him. Among the amused onlookers, there
was another father who was shopping with his young daughter. There was concern in the little girl’s voice
as she said, “Daddy, he’s trying to sneak.
That’s bad, isn’t it?” My heart
melted at the tenderness and comfort in his voice as he answered, “It’s
alright. His daddy’s got him.” Then as if on cue, the little boy’s father
emerged from the store, holding the little boy in his arms. Today I’m reflecting on how I’ve been like
that little boy so many times. I’d start
out following the leading of my Father in the direction of my purpose. But then, for one reason or another, I would
stop following and take off in some other direction of my own choosing. I put some wicked moves on the outstretched
arms of wisdom and discretion, too.
Dodging past them and running with all my will, I didn’t look back. As I recall some of the “stores” I darted
into, my emotions range from deep regret to flat out terror. I realize it is only by grace that I made it
out of some of those places. In
retrospect, I don’t know what I was doing, and I don’t really understand
why. What I do know is I am so thankful that my Father was always in full
pursuit. I am thankful that He always
came to get me. So, I refrain from hypocritical
judgment of others who appear to be heading full speed down paths that seem
contrary. I resist the temptation to
criticize the choices of others, as though I have always done only that which
was perfect and good. Daily I pray to
choose compassion over condemnation in the way I think about others, because that
is certainly what God does for me. Yet
there are still times when judgment, masked as concern, rises up in me and I
find myself asking, “That’s bad, isn’t it?”
At such times I pray to remember this simple, but powerful, truth about
God’s children whatever their circumstances:
Daddy’s got him. Daddy’s got her. Daddy has got us. And it’s alright.
Monday, July 7, 2014
The Lizard Tragedy: A Lesson In Faith
This morning I
am thinking about the startling mini-drama I witnessed while waiting at a red
light the other day. I’m not exactly
sure what made me look down at the road.
But there, in the intersection, was a lizard. The poor thing was nervously jumping and spinning,
dodging and darting, barely escaping one barreling vehicle after another. As I watched, I began to feel great
anxiety. At the same time, I felt great
admiration for the little lizard’s agility and tenacity. Then I saw the lizard disappear under the wheel
of a passing car. I looked away for a
moment, not wanting to see what was sure to be death by tire. To my surprise and delight, however, the
lizard survived! I could see that a
significant portion of its tail was missing, but it was still alive. I broke into a smile as the lizard scurried
out of the lanes of traffic and stood, appearing a bit dazed, near the
median. I breathed a sigh of relief and
started to celebrate, thinking “Oh, thank goodness, he made it!” That’s when a seagull swooped down, grabbed
the lizard in its beak, and flew away. I
was stunned by this unexpected turn of events.
My happy ending had been abruptly rewritten. I felt a bit silly as I tried to will myself not
to cry, especially when I saw the man in the car next to me trying hard to suppress a grin. I knew there was a timely lesson
for me in the lizard tragedy, but I couldn’t fully process it right away. As I sit here today, though, I am taking time
to meditate on what I needed to see. If I had to
sum the lesson up, it would be that sometimes there is no happy ending. Sometimes it’s just The End. Sometimes, despite my most sincere prayers
and earnest hopes, things just don’t turn out the way I wish they would. It is in such moments that I am tested, and I
am starting to recognize that the test questions are often the same: Do you
still believe that God is good? Do you still
believe that God is able? Do you still believe
that God
is? And I answer “Yes,” even as some
of my fondest dreams fly away, while all I can do is watch. And I answer “Yes,” even as I try to will
myself not to cry. I realize it is there,
in those places where it seems I am at the end of my hope, that faith arises
and takes a firm hold on my heart. And I
answer “Yes,” because I am learning something through each trial. My faith doesn’t remain steadfast because God
always gives me what I want. Instead, my
faith is rooted and established in the assurance that God always gives me what
He is…namely, strength, peace, wisdom, and love. The more I reflect what God is, the more I believe
that God is. So, even in the midst of the most difficult tests, I can answer “Yes, I believe. I still believe." Amen.
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