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.  

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.                   

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.” 

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. 

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.

Swim, Baby, Swim!

This morning I am thinking about part of a conversation I had with my big brother, Andy, before he passed away.  I was relaying to him a curious dream I’d had.  In the first part of the dream, I was at the beach.  Other than the gentle movement of the waves, there was no action at all.  There was just me, standing in water that came about chest high, looking toward the shore.  In the second part of the dream, I saw myself out in the midst of the ocean, treading water.  I looked around, puzzled at how I had drifted so far that I could no longer see the shore.  After all, I hadn’t done anything.  Last I could remember, my feet were firmly touching the ground.  I knew if I didn’t start swimming the back, I would just keep drifting.  And that’s when I woke up.  After listening intently, Andy responded in the fatherly tone he sometimes used when he wanted to either caution me or encourage me.  He said, “Well swim, Baby.  Swim.”  Presently, I am struck by the irony that this dream seems to have come back to me so that I will wake up.  In the quiet and stillness of the morning, I caught a good glimpse of myself in the midst of this ocean called life.   I called to mind a time when I stood so firmly and surely on the things I believe in, no matter how ridiculous they may have seemed.  But today I saw myself in a vulnerable place, as though treading water.  I was puzzled as to how I had drifted so far.   Last thing I knew, my feet were firmly touching the ground.  But, then I began to recollect waves of sorrow and heartbreak.  No, they didn’t take me under, but they moved me.  I also recalled undercurrents of doubt from desires unfulfilled and unjust circumstances that have not changed.  They haven’t knocked me down, but they have moved me.  And I am aware of the swift-moving tide of popular culture that seems increasingly callous, self-centered and vain.  It hasn’t carried me away, but it has moved me.  Subtly, but surely, I have been drifting.  I could try to make excuses or justifications by saying, “But I didn’t do anything!”  And, really, that is the point.  My drifting has been a direct result of my own inaction…those times when I didn’t say or do anything because “I tried before and it didn’t work” or “No one wants to hear that” or “I’m only one person.”  While all those things may be factual, they don’t resonate in my spirit as true.  What’s true is that I still believe in love, kindness, faithfulness, generosity, honesty and trust.  I still believe in mercy, forgiveness, healing, and restoration.  I still believe in good.  I still believe in miracles.  So, today it’s not Andy’s voice I hear, but that of One from within saying, “Swim, Baby.  Swim.”  This exhortation is calling me out of complacency and back to intentional, focused choices that allow me to love, give, care, and trust with all my heart.  It is calling me back to choices that go against the fear-based passivity I have often tried to pawn off as peace.  This will bring me back to the place where I have a clear view of the shore I call Hope, and that is where I am supposed to stand.  There, on the shore of Hope, is where countless blessings have manifested before.  And there is where countless blessings will manifest again and again.  This I know.  Amen.     

Walk With Me

This morning I am thinking about the stranger I met at work yesterday afternoon.  It was approximately 1:40 p.m., which meant I had about twenty minutes to quickly check emails and voice messages before my 2:00 meeting started.  The man had stopped his white truck to let me pass, as I walked across the parking lot and headed for one of the building’s side doors.  I was already halfway down the hall, near the elevator, when I heard the pounding on the door.  When I turned to look, I was surprised to see the man standing there beckoning for me to come back.  He was holding up a box and pointing to it, mouthing words I certainly could not hear.  Surely he didn’t think I was going to walk back down there and open a side door to a secure building for a stranger with a box.  I was annoyed.  I figured I would just turn around and ignore him, but for some reason I just couldn’t.  Knowing that he had seen me see him made me feel…well, accountable.  So I walked back down the hall toward the door.  He began pointing to a label on the box, and I was thinking, “Come on, man.  You’re not going to fool me with some box.  I watch Investigation Discovery!”  When I was close enough to the door, I could see two things.  First, I could see that the truck he had parked along the side of the building was for a delivery company.  Secondly, I could see that the label on the box bore the name of a colleague who worked in the building.  I began pointing in the direction of the main entrance, because that’s where deliveries are supposed to be made.  He started mouthing words again.  And again I pointed…this time with a more sweeping gesture…toward the main entrance.  Then he dropped his head and started to walk away.  As he did, I guess I lost my mind a little because I stepped outside the door.  “The main entrance is right around there,” I called after him.  He turned around and pointed to his mouth, and in an accent I didn’t recognize he said, “My English…I’m sorry...it is locked, no?”  The annoyance and suspicion I felt gave way to compassion, and I said, “Walk with me.”  Together we started walking around the building to the main entrance.  “My truck,” he offered.  But I declined with a side-eyed look.  (After all, I watch Investigation Discovery.)  As we walked, I learned that he had entered one of the side parking lots.  Consequently, he never saw the main entrance and had been going from one locked side door to another.  When he finally saw the main entrance, his face lit up with a childlike grin.  He thanked me sincerely, as he made his delivery.  And I made my way to my meeting.  Upon reflection, it occurred to me that he really might have been some kind of crazed, box-toting killer.  On the other hand, he could have been an angel in disguise.  What I really think, though, is that he was just someone who needed a little help to find his way.  Today, I am praying for eyes to see and ears to hear others who are feeling frustrated and lost—mentally, emotionally, and spiritually—after knocking on one locked door after another, searching for the way to know and fulfill their purpose.  I pray for a heart to discern those who are of no danger to me, but are just souls who may need a little help along paths that I have already known.  Even when it seems to be an inconvenience, I pray for the grace to say, “Walk with me” until they find their way.