One of my peers recently noted that “getting old is not for sissies”. Indeed. Even if you escape personal difficulties you undoubtedly have family and friends who are going through physical, emotional and spiritual trials. One of the songs that I default to when I am walking through valleys with others is from singer/composer Rich Mullins. The song is from his CD called Songs and it is simply titled “Hold Me Jesus”. Well, sometimes my life Just don’t make sense at all When the mountains look so big And my faith just seems so small Right now I am in a pretty good place in my life and journey with Jesus. But then I started thinking about the many friends and loved ones who could relate completely to those lyrics in their current situation. And I can certainly remember seasons of my life when those words accurately reflected the condition of my soul. And I wake up in the night and feel the dark It’s
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Another week of tragic losses has sobered all of us. The school shooting in Broward County, Florida is heartbreaking. More police officers killed in the line of duty. Deadly accidents. Sadly, I could go on and on. In church this week we looked at Psalm 90. In that text Moses wrote words that directly apply to the sad news we encounter everyday. Teach us to realize the brevity of life,     so that we may grow in wisdom.  (Psalms 90:12, NLT) What would that look like if we lived that truth?That is one of the primary reasons I wrote Waking Up Slowly.  Here is an excerpt from the book… Just this week I sent a consoling message to a friend. Her apparently healthy and robust father died without a moment of warning. Not to be maudlin, but that is the reality of this earthly existence. We don’t know if we have tomorrow or even the rest of today. Certainly we must
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One of my favorite sports memories involves a runner who was the last to cross the finish line. Derek Redmond was an elite athlete who had a chance to bring home a medal in the 1992 Olympics as Great Britain’s 400-meter representative. After an injury-plagued career, Redmond seemed ready to leave a lasting legacy at the Barcelona Games. He had recorded the fastest time in the first heat and won his quarter-final race. Redmond started well in the semifinal, but about 150 meters into the race his hamstring snapped, and he collapsed in agony. Medical personnel rushed to his aid, but Redmond waved them off. He struggled to his feet and began to hobble around the track. He was going to finish the race. Cheers rang out for the actual winner of the race, but then the crowd of sixty-five thousand in the stadium began to comprehend the drama unfolding of a solitary figure limping in agony toward the finish. The spectators rose
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Every year they rudely awaken Punxsutawney Phil long enough for the prognosticating rodent to let us know whether six more weeks of winter awaits. Phil always looks about as happy as I do when when I am disturbed in the morning. Twenty-five years ago a funny and underappreciated movie came on the scene. Groundhog Day told the story of a self-absorbed news reporter (redundancy alert?) that finds himself stuck in an endless repeat of the same day. Bill Murray is perfect in the role of reporter Phil Connors. Reporter Phil is less than thrilled that he has been assigned to cover Punxsutawney Phil’s annual peek outside to predict winter’s duration. He feels he is “above” such an inane assignment. Connor’s looks into the camera and cynically reports: “This is one time where television really fails to capture the true excitement of a large squirrel predicting the weather.” The premise of the movie is that Phil Connors realizes he is doomed to live
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It is hard to believe it has been seven years since I posted this article. Our first foray into the amazing world of grand parenting came with the birth of Ethan Paul Burchett in Waco, Texas. Since Ethan was a bit early the doctors were cautious about some fluid building up in his lungs. To be sure that all was well they scheduled an x-ray on his second day. New dad Matt went along with Ethan for the procedure. Unswaddling made the little guy unhappy and scared. As he grew more anxious his dad did what every loving father does for their child. He touched him to let Ethan know he was there.. Our friend Jana happened to be at the nursery and captured the candid moment. I keep thinking about that moment. How Matt instinctively knew that Ethan needed that touch and how Ethan wrapped his little fingers around dad’s big finger. Instinctively, Ethan calmed down when he felt the touch of his
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An old favorite, Drift Away by Dobie Gray, cycled up on the iPod today. Day after day I’m more confused So I look for the light in the pouring rain You know that’s a game that I hate to lose I’m feelin’ the strain, ain’t it a shame Those lyrics cause me to reflect on the millions of emotionally lonely and hurting people in a country of ridiculous wealth. I have a heart for wounded people and especially those wounded by the church. I regularly receive notes from people who have left the church because of ugly experiences with people who claim the title of Christian. I can’t dispute those folks’ claim to a relationship with Jesus. But they surely are not acting like Jesus taught His followers to act. Only when we love others sacrificially can our message be received. Paul described how that looks. Don’t just pretend to love others. Really love them. Hate what is wrong. Hold tightly
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