Yet

It’s a small word, but one with enormous power. Like so many, this small word can go unnoticed or ignored. That is, until someone uses it, and you think about things in a new way. That happened to me, recently, and now I want to make sure it becomes a regular part of my vocabulary. More important, I want it to become a regular part of my thinking.

Like many, I have fallen short of what I hoped to do and who I hoped to be. I’ve always bemoaned such shortcomings. Now, as life’s horizon draws closer, my regrets have increased. Fortunately, a friend showed me how to add a word of grace to my thoughts. Look how it changes the thoughts below:

I haven’t made much of a difference in the world, yet.

I haven’t found my purpose, yet.

I’m not a good (Fill in the blank), yet.

I don’t do enough for the poor or struggling, yet.

I don’t read, pray, or sit still regularly, yet.

I don’t give generously, yet.

I don’t exercise enough, yet.

I haven’t achieved what I hoped at work, yet.

I am not the kind of (mother/father/son/daughter/friend) I want to be, yet.

I’m not a very good follower of God’s will, yet.

One word transforms these sentences into declarations of faith. Now, each contains a deep-seeded hope, a reminder that our journey is not over. Our story is not written, it’s being written, and it’s all because of one little word.

I think I’ll try to use it more often.

Pentecost 2022: Running Toward the Flames

I remember the first time I heard it: Our greatest fear is not the God does not exits; what scares us most, is that God does. At the time, I thought it was a clever twist, but now, particularly on the day of Pentecost, I can see that it is not only clever, but true.

As I sat in church this morning, listening to the story of the disciples huddled together, waiting, and suddenly experiencing God’s presence in a new way, like flames or a chorus of unrecognizable voices, I thought it must have been so strange, even frightening. Onlookers thought the early followers were drunk. So it is when God shows up. So it is when people choose to follow.

A man I know was walking through a door from one thing to another, a life transition like so many others he’d been through. To help him navigate the uncertainty, he bought a journal and a pen and began writing his way to the other side. Through his writing, he felt a voice was calling him to “walk beside others who were trying to live authentic lives.” Unsure what that meant or looked like, he carried on, open to whatever that voice continued to say. He attended his morning 12-step recovery group that was struggling for participation. COVID and Zoom meetings had done a number on his group. In a spontaneous moment, he offered to show up and lead the meeting every morning for the next three months to see if people would return to in-person meetings. Much to his amazement, the next morning every seat in the room was filled. It was exciting and scary at the same time. He wanted to lift his hands in celebration, but someone might think he was drunk.

Flames can be frightening in whatever form they come. God’s presence and actions can be so startling one wants to run in the opposite direction – back to the predictable world he or she has known. But today, of all days, we are told to run toward the flames, embrace the unpredictability, the strange voices, and the cup filled with new wine.

It will not be a world, or a life, like any we have known, but maybe that’s the point.

Spontaneous Applause

God loves spontaneous applause.

The rain held off as the string quartet began the processional. First came the grandmothers, then the father and mother of the groom. Yes, they looked wonderful in their wedding attire, but it was something else that caused the congregation to applaud. Last Fall, the father contracted a terrible neurological disease out of nowhere that almost took his life. Only months ago, he was being lifted from a hospital bed by a crane of sorts. It was doubtful he’d make it to the wedding. Then, it would only be in a wheelchair. No one imagined he’d be able to walk down the aisle, let alone dance. No wonder everyone clapped; no wonder the father smiled gratefully and subtly pointed toward the clouds above.

God loves spontaneous applause.

It was an extraordinary day made up of ordinary things. She fixed breakfast for her three children, the youngest having to eat his in the car as she drove them to school. At work, a co-worker broke down in the breakroom because of a terrible mistake she’d made. She shared a mistake she made not long ago, and it seemed to make her co-worker feel better. She met her husband for their weekly lunch, something they had started doing to stay connected, and when she went to pick the children up, she was told to pull off to the side because her eldest had forgotten something in her locker. From her car, she watched as her first-born skipped down the sidewalk waving her science notebook as if she hadn’t a care in the world. When the family held hands to say grace at dinner, she felt the remnants of her son’s peanut butter and jelly snack. Before she finished the dishes, she placed her hands on the counter’s edge, closed her eyes, and whispered, “thank you.”

God loves spontaneous applause.

He wasn’t even halfway. He had made it 700 miles, but Mount Katahdin, the finish line of the Appalachian Trail, seemed beyond reach. Still, when he saw a path leading off the trail, he decided to put his pack against a tree and see where it led. Soon, he was standing on a rock ledge overlooking miles of Virginia. The sun was beginning to set, and he knew he should find a place to camp, but the sight before him wouldn’t let him leave. In awe, he lifted his hands and let out a shout that echoed up and down the surrounding mountains. It was his way of saying “yes” to what he was seeing. It was his way of joining creation’s song.

God loves spontaneous applause.