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You’re In Good Hands

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TurtlewA writer I enjoy, Barbara Brown Taylor, was on a barrier island where loggerhead turtles were laying their eggs. One night while the tide was out she watched a huge female heave herself up the beach to dig her nest and empty herself into it. Not wanting to disturb her, Barbara Brown Taylor went back to her hotel.

The next morning she returned to the same spot and noticed that the turtle, instead of returning to the sea, had become disoriented and had wandered into the dunes which were already hot as asphalt in the morning sun.

A little ways inland, Barbara Brown Taylor found her exhausted and all but baked. Her head and flippers were caked with dried sand. After pouring water on her she left and found a park ranger who returned with his jeep to rescue her.

As Barbara Brown Taylor watched, the ranger flipped the turtle over an her back, wrapped tire chains around her legs, and hooked the chains to his trailer hitch on his jeep. Then he took off, yanking her body forward so fast that her open mouth filled with sand and then disappeared underneath her as her neck bent so far that Barbara Brown Taylor feared it would break.

The ranger hauled her over the dunes and down onto the beach. He unhooked her and turned her over again. She lay motionless in the surf as the water lapped at her body, washing the sand from her eyes and mouth.

Then a particularly large wave broke over her and she lifted her head slightly. With every fresh wave she seemed to revive. Watching her swim away and remembering her nightmare ride through the dunes, Barbara Brown Taylor noted that it is sometimes hard to tell whether you are being killed or being saved by the hands that turned your life upside down.

Precious friends, if you are presently being drug through the dunes, never doubt that you are in ‘good’ hands. Remind yourself daily that you have been written into a good story, by a good God, who guarantees a good ending. This journey is worth the rough ride.

Richard

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Perfected Imperfection

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Shel SilversteinOnce Harold Kushner (rabbi/writer) was on a book tour. While touring the country he learned something very important. Almost everywhere he traveled he met people, store clerks, reporters, photographers, who told him that the most inspiring religious experience he or she had undergone happened not in a church service but in the fellowship hall at an AA gathering or a meeting of some other 12 Step Program.

Kushner asked if they could identify specifically what it was that helped them most and, to the person, they said they felt accepted and non-judged at these meetings. They felt the opposite when listening to sermons preached from so many pulpits. Why is it that the 12 Step Program “gets it” when it comes to grace and so many churches don’t?

According to the 12 Step Program, the good news is this: “I’m not ok, and you’re not ok, but that’s ok.” That’s exactly the message the Apostle Paul proclaims in Romans 8 when he says “Nothing can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus?’ One of the best bumper stickers I have ever seen was this: GOD LOVES YOU ANYWAY.

There’s a little book called THE MISSING PIECE by Shel Silverstein that helps me understand grace in the way that 12 Step Programs understand grace. In the story a circle is missing a piece–a large triangular wedge and, wanting to be whole, perfect, with nothing missing, the circle sets out looking for its missing piece.

But because it was incomplete, imperfect, it could only roll very slowly as it rolled through the world. As it rolled slowly, it admired the flowers along the way, chatted with the butterflies, and enjoyed the sunshine. On its journey it found lots of pieces, but none of them fit. Some were too big and some were too small. Some were too square and some were too pointy.

So the circle left them all by the side of the road and kept on searching. Then one day it found the piece that fit perfectly. The circle was so happy because it could be perfect with nothing missing. It incorporated the missing piece into itself and began to roll. And, since it was a “perfect” circle, it could roll very fast, too fast to notice the flowers, to talk to the butterflies, or to enjoy the sunshine.

The world became very different, so unlike it used to be, not as fulfilling, not as challenging, not as wonderful. Could it be, dear friends, that in some strange way, life is better when we are incomplete? More “perfect” in our imperfection? Could it be?

God promises that his power is made perfect in our weakness. That’s why the Apostle Paul brags, “I delight in weaknesses, in insults, and hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties, for when I am weak, then I am strong” (II Corinthians 12:10).

When we recognize that we have lost part of ourselves and can continue rolling through life and appreciating it, embracing it, celebrating it, we will achieve a wholeness, a perfection, that only God can give. Glory be to the God who invades our imperfection with his perfect love.

Richard Hipps

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GRACE AND RE-MEMBERING

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graceI once took a day to retrace my life growing up in Asheville, North Carolina. The houses we lived in, the schools I attended, the homes of my family and friends, and even the cemeteries where my loved ones are buried. It was truly a spiritual experience.

The writings of Forrest Church have helped me to begin thinking about the relationship of memory to meaning. If you think about it, the meaning of our lives does not emerge from the accumulation of everything we have experienced. Rather, who we are is determined by the memories we choose to keep from all the past events of our lives.

Siblings growing up in the same household remember their lives differently. The memories they select, and how they arrange those memories, is what gives their lives meaning. Within every life there is enough material for us to construct thousands of alternative life stories.

Think about the way you arrange your own memories, distill them, rework them, perfect them (and not always by making them faithful to the facts). Meaning in our life comes from fashioning and re-fashioning our memories into a coherent pattern. We organize our past in ways that prove most conducive to wholeness, reconciliation, and hope.

And this is where God, the Great Alchemist, can help us most. He helps us see with eyes of grace. A “graced” memory is a different memory. The great poet Robert Frost once wrote in one of his poems, “Here are your waters and your watering place. Drink and be whole again beyond confusion.”

Robert Frost is talking about remembering well, re-membering, literally putting your past back together with “grace-filled” eyes. My little story has been caught up into a much larger story and, because it has, my past is no longer the same. It has taken on new meaning.

Before going to sleep tonight, meditate on the astounding promise God gives his people in Joel 2:25: “And I will restore unto you the wasted years, the years the locusts have eaten.”

Richard Hipps

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What Is Your Defining Story?

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A-Boy-And-His-DogsaIt matters which story guides your life. Never doubt that. Some kind of narrative shapes the way you view the world and your place in it. Some story is at the core of your identity.

I have a friend who for many years was pastor of First Baptist Church, Moncks Corner, South Carolina. His name is Hal West. Hal and his wife, Elliot, lost their little son, Philip, in 1985. Philip was six when he died of leukemia. He battled the disease for about three years.

In the summer of 1984, the year before Philip died, the family dog died, a little Cockapoo they had had for twelve years. The children insisted on a funeral and Hal, my pastor friend, constructed a plywood coffin. In their backyard they picked out an appropriate spot among some Camellia bushes to bury their little dog.

Philip, age 5, his little sister, Laura, age 3, and mom and dad attended the funeral. Hal offered a brief prayer thanking God for giving them such a special friend. Then something unusual happened.

Listen to how my friend Hal West describes that day:

I will never forget as I began to cover up this tiny coffin, that Philip took off into the house without saying a word. I finished pushing down the damp soil, and Elliot and I were trying to console a crying daughter and answer that same old question of, “But why did she have to die?”

I remember we were sitting on the ground near the grave when Philip darted out of the house, ran by the three of us, and timidly threw an object in our direction. When I picked it up, I couldn’t believe it. I nearly burst into tears myself.

Philip had secretly and compassionately constructed a cross of two sticks he had found and had bound with scrap pieces of yarn. We called him back and praised him for caring enough to take the time to lovingly make a cross to put on top of the little dog’s grave.

I don’t know how much Philip understood about death, and I’m not sure how much he understood about the cross, but I believe he had an idea that the cross was more than simply a sign of death and a grave marker.

I want to believe that in making that cross he was comforted and strengthened and that for him some of the pain of losing an object of love was lessened when he saw the cross standing above the grave where lay the body of his friend.

Philip, who was only five years old, had a defining story. He truly believed that Jesus cared about his little dead dog. The following year, Hal, Elliot, and little sister, Laura, stood at the grave of Philip remembering what he had done at their little dog’s funeral. You can imagine the power of that memory, a gift to remind them of the defining story of their lives.

Do you have a defining story powerful enough to carry you through death? Little Philip is our guide and his brief life cries out and affirms that dying in Christ is the door to the greatest adventure ever. I hope you believe that. If not, you need a new defining story.

Let me add one last thing. Because our defining story is as greats it is, I believe that not only will Jesus raise us from the dead, but also our four legged friends who brought us such joy in this life. Why not? Won’t the New Earth be that much sweeter sharing it with these creatures who loved us unconditionally? Wouldn’t that be just like Jesus to do such a thing?

Richard Hipps

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Christ Is Not The Answer

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Still havent found

A Christian woman was going through difficult times and couldn’t understand why God wouldn’t answer the questions she posed in prayer. She made an appointment with her pastor to discuss her theological frustrations and, as she entered into her minister’s office, he noticed she was wearing a sweatshirt with these words: CHRIST IS THE ANSWER. After lovingly listening to her for over an hour the pastor said, “Your sweatshirt sums up why you are so frustrated. Jesus never told us that he was the answer. Jesus told us that he was the way.”

If you count the question marks in the book of Job, you’ll come up with 288. Many of the questions were from the mouth of Job. Others were spoken by his friends. But, surprisingly, when God finally speaks in the closing chapters, his answer to Job’s questions comes in the form of more questions, 78 of them! Of the 288 questions in the book of Job, 78 of them belong to God. He answers Job’s questions with more questions. Don’t you find that interesting? It’s more than interesting, it’s informative.

Have you ever noticed how often Jesus answered questions with questions? Here are just four examples:

Then John’s disciples came and asked him, “How is it that we and the Pharisees fast, but your disciples do not fast?” Jesus answered, “How can the guests of the bridegroom mourn while he is with them?” (Matthew 9:14-15)

His disciples answered, “Where would we get enough bread in this remote place to feed such a crowd?” “How many loaves do you have?” Jesus asked. (Matthew 15:32-34)

Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?” (Mark 4:38-40)

One of them, named Cleopas, asked him, “Are you only a visitor to Jerusalem and do not know the things that have happened there in these days?” “What things?” he asked. (Luke 24:19-19)

One of my favorite singing groups is the Irish band U2. Three of the four members of this group are Christians. One of their most popular songs has caused some controversy with their Christian fans. The song? I STILL HAVEN’T FOUND WHAT I AM LOOKING FOR. When the song was released, some Christians began to wonder, “Does this mean these guys aren’t really Christians? Are they saying that Jesus is not enough? Are they denying the faith?”

Bono, the lyricist, chooses his words well:

You broke the bonds
You loosed the chains
You carried the cross
And my shame, and my shame
You know I believe it
But I still haven’t found what I am looking for

The whole song reverberates with the wonderful question, “You mean there’s more?” Yes, with Jesus, there’s always more. Finding is never the end of seeking. The Apostle Paul understood this well and in Philippians 3:10-14 he writes:

“I want to know Christ–yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead. Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in
Christ Jesus.”

When was it that Paul wrote these words? Right after he met Jesus on the road to Damascus? When he was in the desert for 14 years? After he was caught up into the third heaven and saw things he could not repeat? No. These words, “That I may know him,” were written AFTER the missionary journeys, AFTER the shipwreck, AFTER the beatings and imprisonments, AFTER the miracles, AFTER the founding of several churches. While in prison, at he end of his life, Paul penned these words, “That I may know him.”

Paul would never have written these words if finding is the end of seeking. And, if the Apostle Paul was still seeking at the end of his life, what does his seeking say to you and me? Ask, seek, and knock until you die!

Richard

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Thanking God For What We Have Escaped

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Picture1Gregory Jantz tells of a group of pioneers traveling on the Oregon Trail. For weeks they all suffered from a scarcity of water and grass for their animals. Most of the wagons had broken down causing endless delays in the stifling heat. Irritation and bickering prevailed while optimism and gratefulness dissipated.

One evening the leaders called a meeting to air complaints. When the people gathered around the campfire, one man stood up and said, “Before we commence with our grief session, don’t you think we should at least first thank God that he has brought us this far with no loss of life, with no serious trouble from the Indians, and that we have enough strength left for the journey?’ The other settlers agreed.

After a period of prayer, all that could be heard were the cries of a distant pack of wolves. There was otherwise stone silence around the campfire, because no one had any grievances they felt were important enough to voice.

These pioneers suddenly realized if they couldn’t be satisfied with what they had received, they could at least be thankful for what they had escaped. Thankfulness had opened their eyes to see the mercies of God they had been overlooking.

I was in France this past week when a mentally ill pilot took control of an airliner and deliberately flew it into an Alpine mountainside. That pilot could have been my pilot. As I pray for the families who lost loved ones on Germanwings Flight 9525, I must honestly admit that I am also thankful that I escaped such a tragedy.

Let me make a suggestion about the time you spend in prayer this week. Think of all the things you have escaped over the course of your life and then give thanks to God that you “have made it safe thus far” and are still here.

Richard

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Safe And Secure?

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ISIS2

Not long ago I was humming that old hymn “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms” and began thinking about the refrain:

Leaning, leaning,
Safe and secure from all alarms;
Leaning, leaning,
Leaning on the everlasting arms.

As Christians, are we always safe and secure? I would argue that we are indeed always secure but not necessarily “safe.” There are no guarantees in this life for any of us. I have buried too many Christians whose life and death demonstrated just how unsafe this world really is. I cannot get out of my mind the image of those Egyptian Christians in orange jump suits beheaded by Islamic fanatics.

Our security is in Jesus, not necessarily our safety. Nowhere in Scripture will you find Jesus promising his followers safety. Instead he promises a cross and tribulation and there is nothing safe about a cross and tribulation.

Security is not about safety. Bad things, terrible things, are going to happen to us all. But we can still be “of good cheer” because our Lord has overcome sin, death, and the grave.

Even though we live in an unsafe world we can still be secure. In John 16:33, Jesus said:

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace (security).
In this world you will have trouble (lack of safety). But take heart! I have overcome the world”

Security is not the absence of fearful situations, but confidence and courage in the midst of them. We are never safe (necessarily),
but WE ARE LOVED and that love has the power to cast out all fear because it is an eternal love. We are eternally secure in the love of Jesus. I think about that each time I lay down at night and it is one of my first thoughts each morning.

I encourage you to meditate deeply on the words of Romans 8:35-39. These verses remind us of just how secure (not safe) we are in the love of Jesus:

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or
persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: ‘For your
sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.’
No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.
For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels or demons, neither
the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything
else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ
Jesus our Lord.”

The hymn says, “safe and secure from all alarms” (not harm). That’s good theology and very biblical. Security is not about safety. It’s about trust. Trust that no matter what this unsafe world throws at us, we are eternally secure in the love of Jesus.

These are the words carved on the tombstone of our youngest child, Leigh Alexandra. They are taken from her favorite story, THE LION, THE WITCH, AND THE WARDROBE, by C.S. Lewis:

Wrong will be right when Aslan comes in sight,
At the sound of his roar, sorrows will be no more,
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death,
And when he shakes his mane, we will have spring again.

Spring is coming! The eternal love of Jesus guarantees it. Safe and secure from all ALARMS.

Richard Hipps

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I Will Prefer The Commentary

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“So then, each of us will give an account of ourselves to God.”
(Romans 14:12)

Commentary

A wonderful writer named Richard Purtill has helped me imagine God’s plan and God’s purposes in a whole new way. He supposes that when we leave this life, and God reviews with us our years on earth, we will understand our lives like we understand a book.

At our death the entire book of our life will be presented to us and we’ll be able to re-read past sections, skip ahead, and so on. We will also see our lives as part of something much larger and more complete. And, according to Purtill’s imagination, all this reading and re-reading will be done in what he calls “Godlight.”

For the first time ever, we will see our lives from God’s perspective. This will involve seeing with ‘full force’ how our sins have hurt others and how our love helped them. For sure, we will feel every kind of emotion imaginable during this process.

Still reading our lives (like a book) in this ‘Godlight,’ we will realize that one reading will be insufficient. Purtill writes: “As we may write a commentary on a book that has meant much to us, so, part of our afterlife could be an appreciation and correction of our present lives. Even if our present lives have been failure after failure, even if we are barely saved after a life of folly and waste, we could still make these wasted lives the foundation of something glorious. A commentary much better than the book.”

Wow! A commentary of my life that is much better than the book of my life. Gladly, I would offer the book of my life in order to enhance the commentary. How about you?

Richard

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Inheriting Your Child’s Unlived Years

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AlexThere was a time when I would dread the month of February. It was a yearly reminder that what could have been, will never be.

A precious child dying suddenly and without warning is every parent’s nightmare. Our youngest, Leigh Alexandra, age 4 years, ten months, and 11 days, died at Scottish Rite Hospital in Atlanta, on February 25, 1993. It is without question the saddest day of my life.

After Alex died, Patricia and I read everything we could on how to survive the death of a child. When there was very little else to read, I edited my own book, inviting nine other sets of parents who had lost children to tell their story. It is amazing how God has used that little book and I have story after story of how it has helped others face the unimaginable. It is still in print and hopefully falling into the hands of those who need it most. It is called, WHEN A CHILD DIES: STORIES OF SURVIVAL AND HOPE, and can be ordered anywhere (including Amazon.com).

One of the people who helped me most in my grief was Rabbi Harold S. Kushner. He too buried a child, a son, and he wrote about his experience in his very famous book, WHEN BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE. Although we come to very different conclusions theologically, I appreciate one suggestion he made to those of us who are grieving parents. He says that along with the rest of our child’s possessions–her dolls, her drawings, we have also inherited her unlived years.

Parents honor their child’s memory best not by saying, “I’ll never get over it,” but by living those “inherited” years as fully and as meaningfully as possible. Had I been the one to die first, what advice would I have left for Alex and Lacey and Justin and my precious wife, Patricia? I would want them to miss me, of course, but I would have told them to live as fully as possible, as a tribute to the life we shared.

That is why I no longer dread February. I am living fully the years Alex couldn’t as an expression of my undying love for her. Patricia, Justin, and Lacey are doing the same and we will continue doing so until we hear that sweet voice of hers welcoming us ‘home.’

Richard

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That’s Reward Enough For Me…

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MomandDadOn Thursday my beautiful wife and I turn 62. Yes, we were born the very same day, January 15, 1953.

In the book I HEARD THE OWL CALL MY NAME, there is a scene where an old Indian woman is looking out her window, thinking about a young priest who has just died. This young man of God had served her people well. Knowing that he was dying, the priest showed great faith and courage to the end. She whispers to herself:

“Walk straight on, my son,
and don’t look back.
You are going to the Land
of your Lord.”

I find myself thinking these words often of late, especially as I click off one more year of life. Like most of you, I don’t want to leave my present post, but I’m convinced that my life, in its fullest sense, will go on. Consciousness never ceases. I do believe those things I have preached for over 40 years.

I remember a story of a British soldier who lost both of his legs in the Crimean War. One day Queen Victoria invited several war heroes to appear before her to receive their medals. As an officer of the crown was pinning the awards on the soldiers, the queen noticed the legless man lying thin and white on a stretcher. She insisted on honoring him personally.

Bending over the man, she exclaimed with affection and admiration, “My brave soldier, my wonderfully brave soldier.” Then tears fell from her eyes as she was overcome with emotion.

From that day forward the veteran never mentioned his medals. Instead he said, “I’ve looked into the face of the queen. That’s reward enough for me.”

I have no idea how many more birthdays I will celebrate on this good earth. But it really doesn’t matter. When I look into the face of Jesus, I, like this brave soldier, will say, “That’s reward enough for me.”

Richard Hipps

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