The Lessons of 2022

 New Year's Day is only a few days away and I'm not making any resolutions. My prior experience has taught me I rarely keep them for more than a month. Honestly, I have only made them because there is an unwritten rule in our society that we need to promise ourselves we will set goals for the coming year. A lot of folks do, but like me, they rarely keep up with whatever expectations they have placed on themselves, which leads to a degree of self-shaming, or worse leads to continued unhealthy behaviors that can get worse than they were before swearing off them. 

I prefer to look back and see what I've learned in the past year. I may take those lessons to heart and by grace live by them in the coming year. One lesson I've learned this past year: I set myself up for failure when I place unrealistic expectations on myself. It's taken a long time to learn that lesson. For example, I was published in a prestigious journal this past year, and immediately I felt the bar of writing well raised exponentially. I was placing an expectation on myself to write beyond my current capabilities. What was published was written in a flash from pure inspiration. It's impossible to write at that level all the time. Writing is actually grunt work most of the time. Writing to learn to write better is what all authors do. It may be a while before I write something that good again. But I shall continue to write. No writing is ever wasted.

Another lesson I've learned this past year is one I should have learned by now. But like a gymnast, I may have finally stuck it: God answers prayer according to his timetable, not mine. It was very late in 2022 and it's an ongoing process, but a boatload of prayer has gone up to the presence of God like incense. Mine mingled with many others on behalf of a dying friend. Amazingly, she is slowly in tiny steps beginning to communicate by blinking her eyes. It is nothing short of a miracle. But I felt God wasn't answering prayers, or maybe saying no. She's not out of the woods. It could come to a crashing halt and she still pass away. But prayer is answered on God's terms. I now pray for his merciful best because as much as I would like to think I know best, I haven't the wisdom. 

Trusting God to protect the people I love has been a lesson in 2022. I would like to say I've got it down pat, but that would be a questionable statement. So I will say God has protected people I love dearly this past year in spite of the true danger surrounding them. I want to trust he will do so in the coming year. Paul was stoned, whipped, and imprisoned, yet God protected him from death until his race was complete. Struck down, at times perplexed, facing the answer of "No" to some prayers, yet trusting his Savior to keep him safe to do what he was anointed to do. I must do the same, having seen God's protective providence in action. 

Finally, I've learned I must be at peace about things I have no control over. Health concerns and financial difficulties, to name a couple. There are more I won't go into, but I'm called to be at peace knowing things may not improve and in fact, some will get worse and I'm powerless to stop it. God has called me to bear a burden that only he can enable me to bear. And in the midst of it, I am to be at peace. A peace that passes all understanding. 

So here's to 2023. May all God's children find joy, peace, and grace to enable them to overcome the world. Jesus will return and as he asked, will he find faith? 

I want to raise my hand and say here I am, I have faith. 

The Pain of Letting Go

I sit in the early morning hours. It’s still dark out and my light is that of a candle. I think of how it was before electricity, though I am typing by the glow of the laptop screen, running on battery power. Two hundred years ago I’d be writing on coarse paper with the stub of a pencil.

My thoughts are unformed as of yet. More coffee. I want to write an essay about a lovely friend I’ll probably never see in this lifetime other than through video phone calls. And those may be over. She is dying over a thousand miles away. She cannot read my texts, or hear me, well maybe she can. I don’t know. Her mother put her phone to her ear to listen to me, but she didn’t respond.

To say I am sad is an understatement. I’m grieving her and she isn’t even dead yet. But the prognosis is poor. Every day I expect to read she has gone home.  But she is lingering, and I think it’s because her mother won’t let her go. Yes, I have prayed hard for a miracle, but lately I have chosen to pray for God’s merciful best for her. And as I type this I am crying because letting go means losing a part of your heart, and the pain, oh the pain.

This time of year, Christmas, brings its own set of sorrows. My mother died two weeks before Christmas a few years back. I had to let her go because she was lingering in pain. I whispered in her ear it was okay to let go. She spoke and weakly said thank you. The next day she didn’t wake up, just laid there unconscious. She was still breathing when I went to get another cup of coffee. A few minutes later when I returned to her bedside, she was gone. 

My father had died near the holidays about eight years earlier. This just compounded the pain. I remember thinking I am an orphan now. No one to give me advice or the love only parents can give.

My heart broke with the pain only death produces. It is a unique sorrow. And I feel it now. It’s hidden grief I carry for them, even though I know they are supremely joyous and young again, pain-free, no sorrows. I remember my mother’s pain each time a friend died.  She was feeling more alone and very old. When her best friend died, she was inconsolable for a while. They had coffee together every morning for many years.

My friend and I have texted daily for years. The texts have stopped. She is unable to communicate, and I wonder if she is in pain, fear, or panic. My tears are for her as well as for me. I may lose a person I had daily contact with, just like my mother. And I don’t have my mother to tell me how long it hurt. How she got through it. Because friends are different than family. You tell them things you could never tell your family, as much as you love them. You play together, laugh together, cry together, share burdens together. It’s a bond completely different than that of a beloved spouse.

This morning I cry. I cry for my parents. I cry for the state of my friend who told me she just wants to go home. She has suffered her whole life and is so very weary of the continual pain. I get it. And I’m letting go. But dear God in heaven, this hurts. Christmas hurts. Yet I remember the words of David, Thou art always with me. Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me. Please send your comfort.

 

The Passing of an Era

 Like countless people around the world, I took notice when Buckingham palace issued a statement there was extreme concern about The Queen's health. Her family rushing to her side indicated the end was near. Yet, I was left stunned by the news of her passing. Then a wave of emotions washed over me. I was actually in tears. Just like most Britons, she was the only queen I had ever known and I am genuinely saddened.

She was not my queen. George Washington wisely declined to become our first king. America was subjected to many injustices by the king of colonial times, King George III. And Americans celebrate Independence Day every year. Yet, thanks to the brilliant ambassadorship of Queen Elizabeth II, the strong ties between Great Britain and the United States, a former colony, flourished during her reign spanning 70 years. 

She came of age during the bloodiest war the world has ever experienced. Her sudden ascension to the throne at the age of 25 not only made her The Queen, it also made her the head of the Church of England, a role she took as seriously as the queenship. 

She had her faults and sins like all humanity. But those made her more believable and approachable even as she maintained the royal distance the English monarchy has always maintained. It is arguably true that Princess Diana surpassed her in reaching greater approachability, but over her reign, the ups and downs, the blunders and successes, Queen Elizabeth II had amazing approval not just in Great Britain, but also throughout the world. She earned respect.

As head of the Church of England, she did her best to live an exemplary life and publically expressed her faith in the saving grace extended through our Savior. For that I know she has entered Heaven. She is not a queen there. She is among the countless worshippers of our Lord in the equality of the saved. 

Don't confuse this entry as my being a monarchy fan. The history of colonialism and many times cruel subjugation of millions of people throughout the world marred the institution. But The Queen presided over the breaking up of the British empire and I'd like to think she probably felt it was about time for the former colonies to have independence and the right to self-determination. But she was able to establish the free Commonwealth of many former colonies that endured throughout her reign. 

Her death indeed marks the end of an era. Her life provided a connection to WWII Britain, followed by many turbulent times, as well as amazing leaps in technology and great social changes. I once asked my mother if she thought she would see all the advances in technology and changes in the world, such as the sudden emergence of new sovereign nations, and the rock 'n roll she so disliked, during her lifetime. She answered in the negative. I have a feeling The Queen felt the same way and somehow that made her more human and less regal. 

She was not my queen but I still mourn. Rest in peace Queen Elizabeth II.

My Father's Heritage

This is a poem I recently penned based on an essay I wrote years ago after my father's interment at Fort Leavenworth Cemetery in 2005. He is not among the honored war dead. He survived WWII and lived to be 85. But he served in our nation's military for over 24 years. He was honorably discharged with commendations and medals, including a Distinguished Unit Citation from his deployment in the Pacific Theater. It's now known as The Presidential Unit Citation. 

I inherited a legacy from him rather than money. It's been passed down to my son who was also honorably discharged from the Army. He still serves in other ways, just like my father continued to serve after he retired from the Air Force. Even though he was not killed in action, I thought it an appropriate Memorial Day post. I will add that I've not written much in the way of poetry, so take it as it is. 

I buried my father today
Gathered under the shelter we watched silently

as the Honor Guard carefully folded the flag

over his box of ashes

And although I knew it was coming

I jerked involuntarily with each rifle volley

I don’t remember the homily

The words intended to comfort the grieving

I remember the handing of the flag to

my mother

On behalf of the President of the United States and

a grateful nation

The bugler’s Taps washing over me

with finality

Collecting a bullet casing from

the Honor Guard to keep I wondered

if they understood how important their job is

To signal the end of an old war veteran’s life

My father’s heritage is not buried in a

box of ashes

It is found in the words on his marker

He served God and His Country

Lord Let Me Never Outlive My Love For You

 O sacred Head now wounded, with grief and shame weighed down
Now scornfully surrounded with thorns Thine only crown
How art Thou pale with anguish with sore abuse and scorn

How does that visage languish which once was bright as morn

What Thou my Lord hast suffered was all for sinners' gain

Mine, mine was the transgression, but Thine the deadly pain

Lo here I fall my Savior, 'tis I deserve Thy place

Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace

What language shall I borrow to thank Thee dearest friend

For this Thy dying sorrow, Thy pity without end

O make me Thine forever and should I fainting be

Lord, let me never, never outlive my love for Thee

As Good Friday approaches, I am reminded of this hymn I grew up singing every year. There are more verses, but these first three always hit my heart the deepest. It's rarely sung anymore. The old 12th century Latin translated into King James English, and set to somber Bach music, is foreign to modern ears. If you've never heard it YouTube it. It's moving in its worshipful remembrance of Jesus' death on the cross for sinners such as me.

I have found myself as I age feeling a greater need to be near the Lord. The sense of my mortality is pressing in on me. David asked God to teach him to number his days. He, too, had a growing awareness of his limited time on earth and the closer he was coming to seeing God face-to-face. I look back with a degree of sorrow for wasted opportunities, wasted years of dissipation, and needless self-inflicted pain and sorrow that sidelined me when I should have been about my Father's work. But I cannot change a single day of my past as much as I long to have a redo. My past is indeed written in concrete.

But the present and future are wide open for opportunities to write a life worthy of the high calling. There is joy, wonder, and thankfulness that the blood of Jesus covers my sins and failures. But I want the days I have left to be worthy of Jesus' sacrifice for me. I won't be perfect, no one can make that claim. I may be weary some days from circumstances, but my heart and actions can reflect a Christlikeness that comes from the deepest parts of my very being joined in relationship with the Lord. It's grace that makes this possible. 

Lo here I fall my Savior, 'tis I deserve Thy place

Look on me with Thy favor, vouchsafe to me Thy grace

O make me Thine forever and should I fainting be

Lord, let me never, never outlive my love for Thee

 

All Things Change, but One

 Something I've sometimes told people in emotional and suicidal distress is life is not static. It changes and there is just as much of a chance things will improve as opposed to never getting better. Those odds are worth staying around for. It's not a simplistic viewpoint. And it doesn't minimize pain. It's a simple truth. I have self-talked my way through a few tough times with that mindset. When we are going through a series of losses it's difficult to see beyond the wall of pain in front of us. Tragically, some people never give life another chance believing the lie that what they feel now is what they will experience the rest of their lives. 

While the concept of an ever-changing emotional landscape is true, there is another truth that coexists with it. There is a bedrock that cannot be shaken. It is immutable. What's built on it will not fail in any way. Emotional turmoil cannot forestall it. Doubt and fear cannot overcome it. Darkness cannot hide it. This bedrock is the Lord. Scripture says there is no shadow caused by his turning. David called him his Rock. And while rocks in this world erode or shatter, God our Rock doesn't. He is the one constant in life that will be with us in our changing mental and physical conditions. Whether we are on the upside or down, he is there.

I firmly believe life does get better depending on our outlook. I have had journeys through darkness so black I haven't been able to see light. But there is Light and Life in the Lord and in my worst nights of soul turmoil, I know he's been guiding my steps on the path he's laid out for me. I've had suicidal ideations on multiple occasions. Yet, God, my Rock has kept my feet firmly planted while I waited for my emotions to change, which almost always precedes situational improvements. 

When I said I firmly believe life does get better according to our outlook, that doesn't mean conditions will always change. Am I contradicting myself? No. Life isn't static. We can change. Our emotions may be up or down, but God's constancy in recreating us in the image of Christ Jesus means we can always have hope no matter our circumstances. Stories of unbelievable suffering have been handed down through the church and in history studies. The people are all worthy of pity, but some stand out for their faithfulness and lives of purpose in the face of extreme deprivations, loss of loved ones, or horrid living conditions. Their situations persisted, but their inner lives were not static. They were ever-growing, ever transforming, ever believing in a future and a hope. 

 We change either into Christlikeness or into black bitterness. But praise God, our destiny is to be like Jesus. Life is not static.

War and an Old World Order

 I didn’t experience World War II, but I was born only nine years after the surrender of the Axis powers. My childhood friends and I often played games of war. No one wanted to be a Nazi, but we'd divide ourselves up and throw dirt-clod grenades and shoot toys guns to kill our foes. The war was still close in the consciousness of adult Americans and unsurprisingly it spilled over to my generation. It was on TV in shows like Combat!, Rat Patrol, and 12 O’clock High. War movies were still being made and were popular. The horrors were still fresh and long before the collective trauma of the war slipped into the fading recollections of my aging parent's generation.

My war was the Cold War. Spy shows and movies replaced WWII fare. I knew as a child the world teetered on the brink of disaster. Adults did their best to make life seem like Leave it to Beaver and the bucolic town life of Mayberry, but I was raised in a military family and my father was involved in the Pacific nuclear bomb testing of the early 1960s. I knew the Duck and Cover taught in school meant more than tornadoes. The later protests of the Vietnam War were the result of my generation growing up with instant annihilation hanging over us. Any war could be a precursor to another global conflict. Only this time, vast oceans would not keep us insulated and safe.

Trillions were spent in the East and West in an arms race to keep each other from gaining an upper hand. But we were able to outspend the Soviets and the empire behind the Iron Curtain collapsed. Nations that had been oppressed by Russia following WWII were freed to decide their own national identities and futures. There was a new world order. The Cold War with its nuclear threats ended with western democracy and capitalism appearing the winner.

That is why the rise of former Soviet era officials taking over Russia’s government has been so frightening. The threatening return to the old world order is brewing. The President, Vladimir Putin, a former KGB agent is increasingly autocratic, persecuting the press, using violence and a corrupt legal system to silence opposition. His need to reclaim the glory days of Russia’s power and domination of former Soviet bloc countries is playing out with the unprovoked invasion of Ukraine, a peaceful democracy. Like Hitler and the claiming of the Sudetenland, there will be no appeasement. It won’t be enough. If we don’t sacrifice now to prevent Putin from taking Ukraine, more deadly territorial land grabs will follow. It’s why my heart sinks and breaks for the people of Ukraine. It’s why fervent prayers are being lifted heavenward, here and in Ukraine.

There are things I never thought I would live to see. The fall of the Berlin Wall. The collapse of the Soviet Union. The mass terrorist murder on American soil on 9/11. And the utterly terrifying sight of U.S. citizens storming their own Capitol Building, threatening to undo the centuries old constitutional peaceful transfer of power, as the world watched with a mix of horror and delight.

As I watch the situation in Ukraine play out on the daily news, I remind myself I am but a sojourner, yet I’m here to make a difference in this earthly life, defending the rights of the downtrodden. To hate injustice and violence. To work for the good of people everywhere. Even those on the other side of the world. While I cannot be there in person, I can donate to the needs of people fleeing the Russians. I can demand our government do everything within its power to stop the war. I can pray fervently for Ukraine’s people, and for the Russian people who are bravely protesting the war against Ukraine. They are being violently attacked and detained by the authorities. And yes, to pray for the oppressors to stop inflicting pain, to encounter the life-changing Prince of Peace.

As I strive to live as a peacemaker, I await the return of the Lord to put an end to all wars and death, sickness and tears, oppression and injustice, and the darkest evils of the human heart. I watch and I pray.

Come Lord Jesus, come.