The Grind (Moving Forward)

 This past Sunday, I shared a message entitled "There is Always a Way Forward". The theme of the message was, well, "there is always a way forward with Jesus", no matter what you may have experienced in life. Moving forward carries with it the idea of momentum (See Newton's Law of Inertia). I listed a few reasons why we experience difficulty in feeling as though we are moving forward, including "humanity's worship of the desires of the flesh", "humanity's worship of failure" and "Satan wants us to quit".

I did not include what I like to call "the grind". And I'm not talking about coffee beans. 

I have been, at one time or another, a gamer. Not with supposed "games of skill and chance". That would make me a gambler; and I am much like my father who once told me "I couldn't play penny poker, because I was afraid to lose the penny." No I mean video games. Specifically RPGs (role playing games) and on occasion MMORPGs (massively multiplayer online role playing games). In these games there is the concepts of "levels" and "grinding". As you progress through the games, the enemies or tasks become more difficult and require higher levels of health or strength or various other attributes to overcome them. When you have completed all the tasks you're capable of completing at your current level, you start grinding. Grinding meaning here that you fight and defeat enemies at our below your current level for small amounts of XP (experience points) to try to advance to higher levels, so you can continue forward. This is a tedious, boring process. You spend hours (and sometimes days) performing seemingly meaningless repetitive tasks. A lot of people quit playing the games before they get into the higher levels because of the constant grinding. 

Have you felt (or do you currently feel) as though YOUR LIFE is a grind?  

Does it feel like you're doing the same mundane tasks over and over every day? Does it feel like this constant tedium is all you have? Do you feel like you aren't getting anywhere? 

A lot of us feel or have felt this way. A lot of us have checked out before getting to the higher levels. Maybe you haven't given up completely, but you've given up on life being better or even different. You go through the motions emotionlessly, blindly, just because you don't know what else to do. I'm going to try to offer you some hope.

When we sharpen knives, we drag the blade through or across rough stone. We grind it to make it better. I have on many occasions taken a worn down lawnmower blade and given it sharpness again while holding it against a spinning rock on a bench grinder. I've shined up rusty metal against a spinning metal wheel.  When a blade is formed, metal is heated, beaten, cooled, until it is formed in the way the metal worker wants it. 

Proverbs 27:17 says "iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another". Metal grinds against metal. 

Sometimes life is a grind. Sometimes it just has to be. The grind prepares us for something greater, if we don't get bogged down and think the grind is all there is. 

God has a plan for you to move forward. You aren't meant to be stagnant. You aren't meant to grind forever. Unfortunately, we can't look at an xp bar or chart and see how far we have to go until the next level. We must hold fast to Jesus when we are in the middle of the grind. He is moving us up to a higher level where he is. 

Donald Duck Hats

 During Spring Break 1990, when I was 9 years old, my dad, mom and I took our first and only trip to Walt Disney World. It was quite the whirlwind trip. We drove down one day....and I mean that it took the whole day to get from Geneva County to our hotel in Kissimmee, FL, (As an aside, I have no clue how it took that long to get there.) We spent one day in the Magic Kingdom and came back the day after. 

While at the Magic Kingdom, we rode few rides. My parents were not theme park people. Most memorably, we did ride the 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea ride, which was retired many years ago. 

Before we left, I wanted to get some token to remember our trip by. I was too cool for the Mickey Mouse ears hats. No, I wanted a Donald Duck hat, complete with Donald's sailor hat, eyes, and a bill that contained Donald's tongue and looked like Donald's, well, bill. 

Truly unsurprisingly, if you knew Randall Hall, no Donald Duck hat was purchased. 

This past June, Jessica, Abby, and I took our first trip to Walt Disney World. What was at the top of my purchase list as a 41 year old man? You guessed it: a Donald Duck hat. 

No, I had not held a grudge against my father for 30 years over a Donald Duck chapeau. I was not bitter and mostly never thought about it again. Really, it was more like bringing things full circle, for me. 

After I got the hat, I thought about it a lot. About why it was important to me to get it, and also why I didn't get one when I was 9. 

My family has never been rich. My family, for the most part, wasn't even what people would call comfortable. My grandfather never owned property. As daddy grew up, they moved often and lived in many different houses along a 5 mile stretch in southern Geneva County. My grandfather was a tenant farmer: every time he changed employers, they changed houses, to live on property owned by the new employer. 

There wasn't a lot of "extra" to go around for frivolous things. Like Donald Duck hats. 

My dad was, for most of his life, very practical and pragmatic. There wasn't a lot of sentimentality attached to things. Souvenirs weren't practical. 

There was a part of me that questioned why a ten dollar character hat was a deal breaker. 

Daddy would say to me that he didn't gamble, that he wouldn't even play penny poker because he didn't want to lose a penny. It wasn't so much about the hat or the cost as it was a mindset. A practical mindset that considered the souvenir as wasteful. 

As a thought about the wonderful vacation Jessica, Abby, and I were on, I realized something. The same mindset that was passed down to me was what had allowed us to have the ability to be on that vacation. That allowed us to buy Abby (and ourselves) the souvenirs and tokens of remembrance that we wanted (and not be broke when we came back).

I have, over the years, realized a few things about how we think of our parents. There are many times that we are resentful of our upbringing. We look at our childhood disappoints and inwardly criticize our parents for how they raised us, how they didn't provide EVERYTHING we wanted. 

Well, we don't need EVERYTHING we want. And the lessons they teach us, the things they instill in us are for us to be better. 

So really, Daddy (and mama) are the reason this 41 year old has a Donald Duck hat from Walt Disney World. 

Daddy, Thanks for the hat. 

Grumbling

 I have been reluctant to share the following thoughts. As you read this, please remember that, in general, when I write it is not to call out any particular individual or group. Rather, I am trying to provoke thought and consideration. I believe we are all on a journey and sometimes a different perspective can help further that journey. 

As the Covid-19/coronavirus pandemic has worn on, I have witnessed and continue to witness a great deal of grumbling. And, perhaps, that is understandable, to an extent. Our "normal" lives have been subjected to a good deal of abnormality. There are things we were accustomed to doing that we no longer can do as we did. There are inconveniences that we have never had, there are situations that we have never encountered. 

But then I am reminded of Philippians 2:14-16, and what Paul says to the church at Philippi.

Let's consider what the author that wrote "do all things without grumbling" endured through the course of his ministry. 

On the day he comes to know Christ, he is stricken blind. He was hunted down by his former colleagues in persecution of the church. He was stoned, presumably to death or close to death, and survived. He was falsely accused and imprisoned. He was shipwrecked. He was bitten by a snake. Oh and all this before he was ultimately executed. I'm sure I'm leaving a few things out. 

So tell me what it is we have to grumble about? 

Paul tells the Corinthians this in First Corinthians 10:9 and 10:

Those described by Paul had their "normal lives" interrupted. They could not do the things they were accustomed to doing. There were inconveniences they had never had and situations that they had never encountered. 

So we can see that God is not pleased with grumbling in general. We're not talking about questions. God is big enough that he is not disturbed by our questions. When Gideon asks (paraphrasing here) "if God is for us, why has all this happened to us?" he is not struck down. In fact, he is reassured that God is with him in the task that has been placed before Gideon. 

Grumbling is complaining without really wanting to be a part of the solution. It's like saying to God "I'm not happy with the way you're directing my life and you need to fix it RIGHT NOW!"

If we could, for a minute, set aside a few things. Let's set aside our political leanings. Let's set aside our ideas about where all this came from and what the end game is. Let's lay down our opinions. 

Have you laid those down? Ok great. 

Now, let's look at the world around us. There are people who are very sick. There are people who are dying. There are people who are crushed from losing family members. There is a world that is very much tired and hurting and needs compassion. 

We're quick to quote 2 Chronicles 7:14. But how much are we doing that? Have we prayed for healing in our land? Have we asked God to lift this plague from our nation and from this world? 

I fear that we've spent far more time grumbling about our inconveniences and pointing figures and trying to figure out who to blame than we have specifically asked for God to bring a healing to our land. Yes, there are much deeper issues that need to be worked out in the hearts and lives of people. But we need to address the immediate need. 

Why don't we start right now? Pray this with me. 

Jesus, I am guilty of grumbling. I have worried too much about my earthly inconveniences. Lord, please forgive me of this grumbling. 

Jesus, I ask you to lift this plague from our land. Lord, please bring healing to all those who have been affected by this disease. Please, Lord help all those who have been affected. Uplift the hearts of those who have lost loved ones. Give strength and hope to those on the front lines, our medical professionals who are trying their best to help each person. God, bring healing and turn our hearts toward you. We are facing a very difficult time, but we know you are far more powerful than any of our difficulties. Thank you Lord Jesus for your gift of salvation. It is in your name we pray. Amen.  

Butterbeans

Abby and I recently planted a short row of butter beans.  Now these aren't just any old grow-on-a-bunch butter beans. These are running butter beans. They grow on a vine, which runs on a fence. So you don't have to bend down to pick them. 

And they're special to my family. Some member of our family has been growing these beans since the 1950s, at least. Each year, they would save butter beans as seed, dry them, and put them up to grow next year's crop. And....they're very tasty. Did I mention you don't have to bend to pick them?

These particular seed we planted had been in my mom's freezer since 2008. Twelve years, and there's still life in them. 12 years of dormancy. 12 years of isolation inside an old plastic pint milk jug.

With the current pandemic, our churches have a lot in common with these beans.

Our churches are dormant. Our sanctuaries lie empty and silent for the most part. Buildings in which spiritual life has grown are, at the moment, not producing life.

But......I'm afraid many of our churches have been dormant far longer than we've been socially isolated.

How many of us have been having church, but really sort of going through the motions?  How many of us have been dedicated to going to start with? How many of us are concerned with the mission of the church? How many of us know what the mission of the church is?

But......through this I have seen something interesting. We've taken the life of the church house, and started to broadcast it. Many of us who would never have thought of having a church service broadcast are now presenting the gospel on social media. Through the social media, people who would never enter our churches have had the gospel presented to them.  Drive in services have popped up outside our church houses. Some are broadcast on localized radio stations and some are presented with speaker systems set up in the parking lot. Again, this enables people who might not enter our doors to hear the gospel.

Six days after Abby and I planted our butter bean seeds, the sprouts began to break the ground. A few days later, full leaves grew out from the seed leaves. Soon (hopefully) runners will form and grow along our fence. In awhile, we should see blooms and then the tasty beans. Nonetheless, life has already been produced from dried beans that had not seen the light of day for almost 12 years.

Maybe this period of dormancy is leading to a new life for our churches. Maybe the changes forced upon us by the coronavirus have led to the life contained inside our churches out into the field of the world. Maybe the new ways we've adapted to presenting the gospel are the runners going out to a world in need of life. Maybe we've figured out the gospel shouldn't and doesn't need to be contained inside a church house, but carried with us everywhere we go.

Do I know for certain that our butter beans will produce?

No, but I'm hoping for a good crop.

Just some Trees

What do you see in this picture?

Pine trees. Power lines. A road. 

A driveway to nowhere. 

But that's not what I see......

I see an old white farm house. A chicken yard. A wiggler bed. 

I see a scuplin vine, blackberry bushes. Peach trees that made small, sweet peaches. Plum trees. A huge pear tree that dropped more pears than you could keep up with. 

China berry trees.  A chestnut tree. Don't step on one bare foot!

I see Sundays. Daddy propped up by the back screen door while granny fried chicken. 

I see a tv on a rolling stand, turned around to the dining room at 11 so granny can watch her stories (and papa too). 

I see papa in his chair, feet propped up on the gas heater. Granny on the porch trying to talk over the traffic zooming by on 52.

I see lights on late at night, but granny's been asleep in the chair for hours. 

And I can taste things. Like pound cake baked with the perfect amount of gooey dough left on top. Sweet potato pie. And even a boxed yellow cake mix baked in a sheet pan that some how is the best one ever made. 

I see broom swept yards without a single blade of grass. And then that same yard; hours of grass cutting going into it. 

Doors, framed much smaller than we would frame them now. Top of the frame somewhere about 5 and a half feet. Maybe 2 and a half feet wide. 

I see my 6'3", 250 pound dad somehow carrying my papa like a baby through that doorway because papa was took weak to get himself out to go to the emergency room. 

And even now, I expect to come up the hill and see the lights from the old farm house when I go toward Slocomb at night. But those lights haven't been on in 15 years. 

But you're probably right. 

Those are just some trees.  

The Graveyard's Testimony

I hate funerals. Hate them. Dad always took me to funerals and visitations especially when I was a kid. People would question him about taking me to so many and he would say "well he might as well get used to it." In reality, it had the opposite effect. I never have "gotten used to it".

But I have always been intrigued by cemeteries and graveyards. Especially old ones. You see a lot of interesting things there. The engraving on a Civil War era headstone in Cade's Cove near Gatlinburg reads "killed by North Carolina rebels".

One of the things you begin to notice are the number of young children and infants that are in these graveyards. Some stillborn, some a few days old, some only a few years old.  You see far fewer of these as you get to our present time. Innovations in medical science and access to better nutrition has caused there to be far fewer early age deaths.

The markers for these infants and children speak to me. They speak of the care the parents had for these children. That the parent would spend money to place a marker there for a young child or for an infant that they never were able to have a relationship with. My own grandparents had to deal with 2 stillborn babies before my mother was born. As this was during the great depression, and my family only ever being one of moderate means at best, there is no marker on the graves of babies who would have been my uncles. There was once a simple wooden cross; that's the best they could do.

But the care that was taken by children's parents to mark that they had once been born or even stillborn in this world, a remembrance of them......

This morning as I walked through the cemetery in which at least 5 generations of my family lay at rest, I began to wonder:

How many graveyards would it take to bury all of the children who have been aborted by our nation?

There is no marker, no stone of remembrance for these babies. No, the remains of these children have been incinerated, thrown in the trash heap, or sold (in an indictment of our capitalistic, pragmatic society) for spare parts.

The graveyard testifies against our generation. Our forebears used valuable resources to mark the passing of  precious lives. They wanted to make sure they were remembered, even if the only life their little bodies ever sustained was within the womb. They regarded life, and the loss of it, as important.

The graveyard testifies that we have lost our value for life.

2018....thank u, next

2018. Wow. I am not sad to see you pass. Or maybe, I'm really glad to see you go. Cartoon depictions often show the new year as a baby and the passing year as an old man. If I could get my hands on 2018, I might get charged with elder abuse. 

But it's not really 2018's fault. 

There were a lot of things that happened in 2018 that were unexpected. And my reaction to these things wasn't expected. 

I went to 5 funerals, and could have gone to several more. We lost 3 church members. I participated in some capacity in 4 of the 5 funerals. I told an old friend of my dad's who is a funeral director that if I had to carry many more coffins, I was going into his line of work. 

There were friends and mentors who dealt with serious healthy issues this year. I didn't take nearly enough time to support these people the way I should have. But it did prompt me to finally start getting serious about my own health. 

But the thing that was the biggest issue wasn't all the bad things going on around me. It was the way i reacted to these things. I became withdrawn, isolated. Way too deep in my own head. Way too focused on the negative. 

In the closing of his letter to the Philippians, Paul instructs them this way: 

"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things."

Yeah there's plenty of bad to think about. Yeah this world isn't at all like perfection. But it does very little good to dwell on these things continually. 

So if I have resolved to do anything in 2019 (and I don't make resolutions), then I have resolved to think on better things. We are bombarded with enough negativity from all sides: from the news, from the talking heads, from our political "leaders". 

We (and I) must remember there is a great deal of beauty, of truth, of excellence all around us if we just look for it. 

So 2018, don't let the door hit you on the way out. 

2019.....I just believe I'm going to be a little bit better this year.