Lessons From Max #8 | REGRETS...

I'm cheating a little on this one. What follows is a Lesson from Max for sure. But it is spurred to the forefront by something I read from Pulitzer Prize winning columnist Charles Krauthammer. (And just as Max was apolitical, nothing that follows has anything to do with one view or another.)

Krauthammer announced today that he is dying. In fact, he revealed he has been given only a few weeks to live. That itself is tragic. But it is not what captured my attention.

What grabbed me by the soul was something a dying man wrote in a farewell message:

I leave this life with no regrets. 

It was a wonderful life -- full 

and complete with the great loves 

and great endeavors that make it 

worth living. I am sad to leave, 

but I leave with the knowledge 

that I lived the life that I intended. 

-- Charles Krauthammer 

I don't know that I am weighed down by regrets. I really don't think so. Sometimes however, I find myself fearing they may appear. I want to be able to write what Krauthammer wrote. More than that, I want to live it. 

As special as Max was, I am not comparing a dog's life to a man's. I am simply drawing a parallel. When Max left us, he left with dignity; and, I believe, no regrets. I think that is possible for each of us. Possible. Achievable. Difficult. 

Regret I think, is eradicated through purpose and love. When we live on purpose and in our purpose the suction cups of regret lose their stickiness. No matter what the specifics of an individual's purpose-path may be, universally we share this: Our greatest purpose is to love and be loved. Max demonstrated it. Krauthammer beautifully wrote it. The greatest teacher-philosopher-spiritual-guru (who happened to be the Son of God) said it -- Love God, Love others, Love yourself. Boom... no regrets!

Max was a pure soul. In reality, he probably couldn't do anything else but love and be loved. You and I have choices to make. Krauthammer concluded: I lived the life that I intended. I like that. I intend to have no regrets. 

Thank you Charles. Thank you Max.

For now...

D

A Stumbler's Walk | SUFFICIENT GRACE

Sufficient Grace

My grace is sufficient for you...
--2 Corinthians 12:9

Do you need grace today? I'll ask another way: Do you need power? We tend to think of grace in terms of covering our inadequacies, a balm applied to our failures. But grace is and does much more.

It is by grace that we are not given what we deserve. It is by grace that we are given what we do not deserve.

As James puts it:

Every good and perfect gift comes from above, coming down from the Father of lights 

with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. 

--James 1:17

Q: How powerful is grace?
A: It is sufficient.

Wait, shouldn't this covering and empowering grace be overwhelmingly abundant? Shouldn't God cover a "3" on the need-grace scale with a "10" measure of grace? Shouldn't there be puddles of grace everywhere around after the grace shower rains down; so we can scoop a little extra up and store it away for use later?

Grace doesn't work like that. (Think manna from heaven; Exodus 16 - it's worth a read). New grace is given each day; actually moment by moment. Leftover grace - if there were such a thing - would spoil. And future grace, though promised, cannot be utilized. Today's grace... this moment's grace is sufficient for you. It is sufficient to completely cover, completely forgive, completely empower.

And how strong must we be? Well, our part is to rely on God's grace. To lean on and into his power. Our job is to embrace weakness and trust his strength. God says:

...my power is made perfect in weakness. 

--2 Corinthians 12:9

It would be easy to write of God's sufficient grace at certain times. This is not one of those times. It is a time when the preacher (or blogger, as the case may be) must hear and apply what he is writing. (Actually, every time is that time.)

God, I am weak, but you are strong. I need your sufficient grace in this moment.

For now...
D

A Stumbler's Walk | FLAWED

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

FLAWED...

I will boast of the things that show my weakness. --2 Corinthians 11:30

Thankfully the writers of the various narratives, histories, poems, and letters that make up the Bible never attempted to cover up the flaws of faith's heroes.

David's murderous lust. Peter's tempestuousness. Sarah's lack of faith. James' and John's ambition. Real people with real strengths and real weaknesses; real faith and real doubts. Much like us.

Paul is one of those super-saints with whom we feel we cannot relate. His shadow is cast over much New Testament and the formation of the early church. He authored one half of the New Testament. Yet Paul is flawed. His story is not a simple one. It is not fairy-tale clean.

Paul was a man of incredible faith; a picture of passion and mission. But I think Paul was at times a lonely man. You can hear it in his voice when he gets personal in his writings. Groups of people, both within and outside the church, continually attacked Paul's credibility and motives. He was mocked, ridiculed and worse. He was also, on a few occasions, abandoned.

Paul was a man of strengths. His greatest? Intimacy with his weakness. It is in this understanding of his own inability that he was enabled to completely rely on God's power within; God's power to transform.

And the same is true for us. There is a swelling confidence that comes when we choose not to hide our weaknesses from God. Instead, when we reveal ourselves completely to him, his grace will do in and through us what only he can do. And the results are beyond our wildest imaginations.

What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, 

what God has prepared for those who love him...

--1 Corinthians 2:9

God, your grace overwhelms my weakness.

For now...

D

A Stumbler's Walk | THIS DAY...

Saturday, May 14, 2016

THIS DAY...

Behold, now is the day of salvation. 

-- 2 Corinthians 6:2

Today - this day, however much remains of it - is an important day. It is the most important day; because it is the day, the time, we are given.

And in this day, however much remains of it, God wants to do something in our lives, and through our lives.

Spiritual procrastination is an infection. It is ailment from which we all suffer at times and to various degrees. Prolonged periods of the affliction dull us to the presence and purpose of God in our lives. (That last sentence may be worth a re-read.) I do not have a guilt-goal here, but our misunderstanding of this day's importance (however much remains of it) affects not only us, but others.

Look carefully then how you walk (live), not as unwise but as wise, 

making the best use of the time, because the days are evil.

-- Ephesians 5:15-16. 

We have best intentions about what we will do, or begin, tomorrow. But tomorrows become todays, and before we know it, yesterdays.

Now is the day of salvation.

It is always in the present that God works in our lives. We can reminisce about what he did in the yesterdays; and that is a good thing. But we cannot live there. As one preacher put it: We can no more operate today on the grace God gave for yesterday than we can drive our car on the gas that we burned to get around yesterday.

We also trust him with our tomorrows. And that is a good thing. But we cannot live there. To stay with the metaphor, our grace tank is only large enough to hold what is required for today.

God gives GRACE-GAS for this day, for now.

Today - however much remains of it - matters. It is the NOW that God is at work in us and around us. Jesus said to Zacchaeus, "Today salvation has come to this house," (Luke 19:9). Why? How? Because Jesus had come to the house. And that moment was the moment; the Now is the day of salvation moment.

Jesus has come to our house. And because he is present, this day - however much remains of it - matters.

God, help me to make the most of the time.

For now,
D

Lessons from Max #6 | BE LOVED

Max loved to be loved.

It sounds pretty simple, right? It should be. But we often derail our fulfillment and well-being at just this point. What sounds simple in concept can be in practice, paralyzingly difficult.

We want to be loved. We like, even love, to be loved. However we may struggle with allowing ourselves to be loved. It is an issue of self-worth.

Lesson #6 from Max: ALLOW YOURSELF TO BE LOVED. 

I don't think Max ever had a day in which he felt unworthy of love. When he heard the vacuum fire up in my attempt to scoop up the thousands of fine blonde-red hairs from the carpet, floors or seemingly infinite spots, he didn't feel unworthy of love. As he played, or laid in the sun, in the back yard while I picked up his leave-behinds, he didn't feel unworthy. Max's only real vice was curling up and sleeping on a living room chair. I'd half get on to him. He'd climb down while giving me a you know you love me anyway expression.

There were the occasional folks that didn't care for Max. (See Lesson #4 | YOU ARE MORE). If he noticed at all, he chalked it up to their loss. (I know I did). I think in such encounters I could see a bit of wonderment in Max's eyes - "Hmmm, what was that? - and then it was gone.

When we really love, we expect to be loved... and don't get hung up on when love is not returned. So I guess I should amend Lesson #6 to: LOVE... AND ALLOW YOURSELF TO BE LOVED. Each of us is worthy of love. And the more we love, the greater our discovery and ability to be loved.

I knew I would eventually write Lesson #6 (and all of the Lessons from Max) on the last day of Max's life. Max became very sick very fast; with no hope of recovery. The last two days we spent with Max were horribly beautiful. (Wow, two years since, and my screen has suddenly become blurry.) We loved on Max, and though he could hardly stand, he allowed it. He loved it. Finally, on that afternoon we took Max into the Vet, we were crumbling. Max was not. A woman sat in the waiting room crying, having either received bad news or because she was there for the same reason we were. Max walked over and laid his chin on here knee. In his discomfort he comforted her. And he warmed our hearts and broke them at the same time.

Max allowed himself to be loved. And he taught me a lesson.

For now,
D

Lessons from Max #5 | DON'T FOCUS ON WHAT YOU'RE NOT

You may have figured out by now, if you've read previous Lessons..., that Max was very special to my family. He was very special to me. Max shared some great times and some dark. He was always there with his playful smile, his calm spirit, and his chin ready to rest on a knee; those expressive eyes calmly surveying.

But just in case you by now think I may be a little nuts, I will say it for the record: I realize Max was Canis Lupus Familiaris. I am fully aware Max was a dog.

He never tried to be anything else. I really don't know how self-aware Max was, but I'm pretty sure of this - he never wanted to be something else. Max didn't want to be a horse. Max didn't long to be a barn owl. Max was cool with being an over-sized blonde-red Golden Retriever. (If he wasn't, he never said anything about it to me.) In other words, Max didn't spend time or energy - or rob others of time and energy - trying to be something other than Max.

There is beauty in that. I wonder how much energy I have spent over the years pondering what I am not, rather than focusing on what I am; and working to be the best what I am that I can be.

And that is Lesson #5 from Max, DON'T FOCUS ON WHAT YOU ARE NOT. I think good writing, and motivational, technique should turn this into the positive: Focus on what you are. But I don't like that as much. Focus on what you are sounds self-serving and self-centered to me. And that is so far from Max's spirit.

When we DON'T FOCUS ON WHAT WE ARE NOT we are truly free to BE WHAT WE ARE! And that is liberating. That is is when we both find the most fulfillment and offer the most to others.

Thanks for the lesson Max.

For now,
D

Lessons from Max #4 | YOU ARE MORE...

Lesson #4 (from Max): 

DON'T LET ANYONE TELL YOU THAT YOU ARE ONLY A DOG. YOU ARE SO MUCH MORE... TO SO MANY!

Some saw a just dog when they looked at Max. Some saw more; a loving soul perhaps. Those who knew him best saw something deeper. 

One gorgeous late spring day, as was our habit, Max and I took
a walk by the lake. The paths were teaming with cyclists, runners, power-walkers and strollers (as in meanderers, though baby strollers too were being strolled, walked, run and cycled).

I should say that Max was very large for a Golden Retriever. As such, reactions varied when we came face to face with others on the paths. Most children wanted to pet Max, and the shoulder-threatening tug on the leash let me know, he desired the same.

Max seemed to smile at people. (I see it in the picture above.) Most people smiled back. Max relished the attention he usually received. A few people however, reacted differently to Max.

I remember particular back-to-back encounters on one section of the path that spring day. Twice, we approached walkers (actually, meanderers) coming our way. At both of these encounters, the person, and then persons, looked suspiciously at Max, next at me; then gave wide birth. Not just beyond-leash-distance. They stepped off the path and made a good 20' arc around us. One fully turned and never let us out of his sight. I remember thinking the reaction said much more about the man, and his experiences, than it said about Max. He didn't know Max; assuming he was just a dog. (He certainly couldn't see the smile.)

But Max was so much more to so many.

Most of us have been wrongfully accused of being just a... something (you can fill in your own blank.) Outward appearance or even failures of the past have led others to say, "...he's just a dog," and give wide passage. Here's a lesson from Max: Don't listen. Don't believe it. And never speak those words over your own life (or anyone else's).

First: their loss. Really.

Second: Their response probably says more about them than it does us.

Third, and most importantly: DON'T EVER LET ANYONE TELL YOU THAT YOU ARE JUST A DOG. YOU ARE SO MUCH MORE... TO SO MANY!

I believe I could see the confusion in Max's eyes when the few responded negatively toward my blonde-red buddy. But Max must have had the same memory constraints I do - it didn't stick with him long. Immediately the smile was back. The tug on the leash was there. And Max was already looking to be so much more to someone new.

For now...
D