Effective Meetings

I have written previously about facilitating meetings.  Somewhat akin to that post would be the “effective” meeting I was in today.  My boss had asked me about a month ago to attend in her absence in which I of course said yes.  In doing so, I missed a team meeting of which I am the co-chair.  But hey, when your boss asks you to do something, you make arrangements to do it.  Since I was going in her place, I also was sure to wear a tie.  For those of you who know me, you know that’s serious.  Whenever I go to one of these high-powered meetings as a proxy I am sure to send notes to my boss.  Below is a slightly altered version of what I sent her today:

Meeting began with attendees discussing whether we had an agenda or facilitator.  After about 5 minutes of small talk it was determined that we had neither.  Mary asked Jake about H1N1 cases on campus.  Jake said we have had approximately 60 cumulative cases in which about 35 are active.  Meeting adjourned.

Please Note: H1N1 cases on campus has nothing to do with the purpose of this committee. 

The Scar

Sunny late summer mornings in Northern New Jersey are beautiful and this day was no exception.  The sky was clear and the sun was bright.  The air was already saying it was early fall.  Living west of my workplace meant that sun glare would cause delays and make for a longer commute to work.  Thankfully, my job didn’t start until 9am.  Nevertheless, I was running behind which was often the case, especially with an 18 month boy at home with my wife, Tina.  While traveling Route 10 in Morris county, I listened to the local Christian station for a while and figuratively rolled my eyes at the annoying traffic.  Many of the schools were starting back and that made the traffic even worse.  I didn’t like being late although it happened fairly frequently.  I was just over halfway to work when I grew tired of the radio station, so a few minutes before 9 I switched the radio to the local (NYC) Top 40 station.  It didn’t take long before I realized by the tone of Scott Shannon’s voice that something was wrong.  He said something along the lines of, “We’re not sure exactly what has happened, but it is something horrible.”  I woke up a little more and switched to news radio at WABC in New York.  It was then I found out that what appeared to be a plane had flown into one of the towers of the World Trade Center.  They went to the phones where an eyewitness on the streets in Manhattan began to recount what he had seen.  I was amazed…and shocked!  I imagined in my head a small private plane and an explosion as I listened intently to what this guy was describing…but it wasn’t over.  Just then, the caller exclaimed, “Oh my God, another one!.  The other tower is hit!  The heat!…”  My jaw dropped and my hand covered my mouth- a gesture I had never remembered making before and hope to never make again.  I was completely shocked as I moved over a couple lanes to exit off route 10 in Parsippany to make the last few turns into my work.  I wondered if the cars around me had heard what I had heard.  And were they were struggling to drive because of it.  Thoughts rushed through my head as I continue to listened.  I remember WABC having an “expert” on soon after who said, “Well, it’s too early to determine whether this was a true act of terrorism or not.”  That remains the most ridiculous thing I remember hearing on that day.  Everybody knew.  It wasn’t wondering whether it was terrorism, it was wondering who the terrorists were.

I arrived at work and went to the row where my desk was and asked if anyone had heard what had happened.  I can’t remember who had or hadn’t, but I do remember telling one of the managers about it as well.  Later, before I left New Jersey for North Carolina, he told me he would never forget me, because I was the one who told him about what had happened that morning.  I don’t know how I feel about being remembered this way.  I wasn’t the scar, but I was telling Frank he was about to have one.  I did the same, I’m sure, when I told my wife over the phone to “Turn on the news.”  News travelled quickly in the office of course, and with it feelings of shock and adrenaline.  My boss actually told us to keep working.  Really?  Work?  There was no way to concentrate.  We were paralyzed.  But work?  Not anytime soon, I’m sure.  You need focus for that.  About an hour later, someone got wind of the Pentagon, but that was further away and my head couldn’t digest that now that the numbness had set in.  Someone then heard that the first tower had collapsed.  I thought perhaps a few hundred people would be killed at impact and that those below would simply walk down the stairs and out into the street, and those above would be rescued by helicopters.  I remembered thinking that if it collapsed straight downward that couldn’t be too bad because surely everyone was out of the tower by then. It was a naive thought, but it’s still in my head.   We were numb.  We would be for, not hours, but days.  By late morning, we were leaving for home.  Traffic was heavy again with everyone thinking the same thing; “I just want to be home with my family.”  I remember hugging my wife and then watching the news…all day.  It was ironic to see my 18 month old play while this was all unfolding.  He had no idea.  Actually, I still don’t know if he has an idea.  It might be a discussion tonight…

Time becomes hazy and you don’t remember all of your thoughts, but you remember some.  I didn’t know any one who worked in the Trade Center towers, but I knew plenty of people who could have been there that morning “on business.”  I worried about them. I lived within the commuting distance to Manhattan, and some people within our borough were lost, but I didn’t know any of them.  Newscasters spoke of 20,000 estimated deaths in the towers.  There was a sense of irony and relief each time the estimate was lowered.  Sometime during that day I recall thinking how grateful I was for the first day of school and sun glare.  Surely less people had made it to the WTC on time for work due to the change in traffic patterns. 

The days that followed were a blur as well.  It was back to work on the 12th but I don’t recall if I stayed the whole day.  There is one part of the trip on Route 10 where you are up on a large hill and you can see out over New Jersey.  That morning, there was a plume of smoke on the horizon.  Living a good 45-60 minutes from the City, I couldn’t believe I saw what I saw, but I am all but positive that this it.  When I was at work, I wondered if our building would be a target.  It sounds irrational now, but that was the thought.  I taught a class at a local community college.  My first lecture after the attack, my students just stared at me.  Their eyes were clearly saying, “Please don’t make us think. We can’t concentrate.”  It was still too soon to resume “life” so I sent them home.  Somewhere in the midst of it all, life began again, but thoughts remain.  I remember more than one Sunday at church imagining some terrorist coming into the church in the middle of the service and firing on us.  I had plans in my mind on how I would react if this happened.  A few weeks later the anthrax attack, which originated in NJ, hit the news as well.  Within a week, white powder had been sent to our church.  We had a guest speaker that weekend and we ended up borrowing a local reservation hall and having our service their.  Nothing became of the white powder, but it was still terrorism.  A month later, I had a week of training in the CBS building in Manhattan.  Taking the train in, there was one point where you could see the skyline.  Looking at it without those buildings was like looking at someone for the first time after they had lost a limb.  Your brain just didn’t want to compute the change and it hit me once again.  During training, people were still talking about it.  Those who live in the city would talk about the lingering smell from the rubble.  Going home from training, I’d take the subway back to New York Penn and find armed military personnel throughout the station.  I found myself thankful for their out-of-place presence.  From then on, the memories faded.  This was the deepest part of the wound.  The most central part of the scar.  But like scars, memories fade, especially around the edges.  Above is what remains.  Many have taken time over the past eight years to pause, remember and honor.  I have never been too much for that.  Of course I remember.  I may even pause.  I think now is the first time, I have truly tried to recall my thoughts from eight years ago.  There were many of them that have been forgotten, but this is what remains of that time.  Some scars fade and some disappear.  Some remain and become part of who you are.

Oswald Chambers Quote on Prayer

Sometimes short blog entries are the best.  Here is the last statement in today’s devotional in “My Utmost for His Highest:”

When prayer seems to be unanswered, beware of trying to place the blame on someone else. That is always a trap of Satan. When you seem to have no answer, there is always a reason— God uses these times to give you deep personal instruction, and it is not for anyone else but you.

Church Economics

While getting ready for church, I asked myself this question. "How many families does it take to financially support a full time pastor?" Interesting question, especially for us western thinking Christians. Assuming that each household was self supporting and they tithe their "local storehouse" the answer is pretty easy. For the example, let's say each family makes $50,000 and that's what is required (minus tithe) to "make a living." With each family giving 10% or $5000, it takes 10 families to support a pastor and only 9 if the pastor doesn't tithe. (Not the kind of pastor I'd want). Just ten families! That's it! Of course, funds for a church are needed for ministry/outreach, but ten families? Really? Wow!

It brings a lot of other questions to my mind regarding how we "do church."

Encountering God

This is what I read this week from John Piper in his book, “Don’t Waste Your Life:”

No one ever said they learned their deepest lessons of life, or had their sweetest encounters with God, on sunny days. People go deep with God when the drought comes. That is the way God designed it. Christ aims to be magnified in life most clearly by the way we experience him in our losses.

Laying it Down, Bono Style

This morning, as I began the Epilogue in “The Reason for God” by Timothy Keller, he quoted a book/interview regarding U2 lead singer, Bono.  The book is called Bono: Conversation with Michka Assayas.  Many of us have heard or read the Lord, Liar or Lunatic argument before, but I’m encouraged to know that Bono has a pretty good grasp of it too.  I loved this: 

Assayas: …Christ has his rank among the world's great thinkers. But Son of God, isn't that farfetched?

Bono No, it's not farfetched to me. Look, the secular response to the Christ story always goes like this: he was a great prophet, obviously a very interesting guy, had a lot to say along the lines of other great prophets, be they Elijah, Muhammad, Buddha, or Confucius. But actually Christ doesn't allow you that. He doesn't let you off that hook. Christ says: No. I'm not saying I'm a teacher, don't call me teacher. I'm not saying I'm a prophet. I'm saying: "I'm the Messiah." I'm saying: "I am God incarnate." And people say: No, no, please, just be a prophet. A prophet, we can take. You're a bit eccentric. We've had John the Baptist eating locusts and wild honey, we can handle that. But don't mention the "M" word! Because, you know, we're gonna have to crucify you. And he goes: No, no. I know you're expecting me to come back with an army, and set you free from these creeps, but actually I am the Messiah. At this point, everyone starts staring at their shoes, and says: Oh, my God, he's gonna keep saying this. So what you're left with is: either Christ was who He said He was—the Messiah—or a complete nutcase. I mean, we're talking nutcase on the level of Charles Manson. … I'm not joking here. The idea that the entire course of civilization for over half of the globe could have its fate changed and turned upside-down by a nutcase, for me, that's farfetched …

Later in Bono’s book he says the following:

Bono: … [I]f only we could be a bit more like Him, the world would be transformed. …When I look at the Cross of Christ, what I see up there is all my s--- and everybody else's. So I ask myself a question a lot of people have asked: Who is this man? And was He who He said He was, or was He just a religious nut? And there it is, and that's the question. And no one can talk you into it or out of it.

And there you have it.  Preached by Bono himself.

Retirement: Addendum

To follow up on my previous post, I would like to provide the following quote from the back of the book, "Don't Waste Your Life," by John Piper. I'll be starting this one later this week:

John Piper writes, "I will tell you what a tragedy is. I will show you how to waste your life. Consider this story from the February 1998 Reader's Digest: A couple 'took early retirement from their jobs in the Northeast five years ago when he was 59 and she was 51. Now they live in Punta Gorda, Florida, where they cruise on their 30-foot trawler, play softball and collect shells. . . .' Picture them before Christ at the great day of judgment: 'Look, Lord. See my shells.' That is a tragedy.

I'd like to tell you more about the book, but I haven't begun to read the inside of it. That being said, the cover alone will get you thinking.

Retirement? Bah!

This morning, I was reading my Utmost for His Highest by Oswald Chambers.  Chambers wrote the following about 100 years ago:

“The real danger in spiritual laziness is that we do not want to be stirred up— all we want to hear about is a spiritual retirement from the world. Yet Jesus Christ never encourages the idea of retirement— He says, ‘Go and tell My brethren . . .’”

In this age of entitlement where we now live, something has been bouncing around in my head for some time.  For my Christian friends, I’d like to suggest the following:  There is nothing (that I know of) biblical about our modern day idea of retirement.  I have discussed this a few times with some folks and the only thing that has been mentioned is that the Levites were to work in the temple from ages 25-50.  Well, ok, fine.  Did their service stop then?  I’m doubting it.  Besides, I personally do not know any Levites personally who work in the temple, so I think we shouldn’t necessarily consider this a good reference for those of us in secular vocations.  As for those in “full time ministry,” I doubt this is a good example either.  (On a personal note, my pastor is over 50 years old and I’d prefer he not retire any time soon).  So, then, what is biblical about modern day retirement?  Or more importantly what is it we should be asking God to do with us now and in the future?   When Paul writes in Romans 12:1, “Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship.”  I don’t think he means to go fishing without sunscreen.  This life we live now, is no longer ours.  We gave it up when we committed it to God.  Does this mean we don’t save money for what we suspect will be our “retirement years?”  No, but for me I think it is important to keep in mind that I can’t take it with me?  I have my 401K from a previous job and money in other retirement accounts.  It isn’t much and maybe even should consider putting more in, but, again, what for?  I will slow down as I age.  I may not be able to pull the same sort of paycheck to take care of things as I get older and that is what those funds should supplement.  But should I stop?  I hope not.  That would be laziness which is what Chambers refers to in this morning’s devotional.

(Of course another matter for me is to be sure I’m not being lazy now, too!)

Renovations: Our new Screened in Porch

This was my first post using an MS tool called Live Writer. I would love to know what people think about the format.

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Christian Fanatics

We all, on occasion will say we're a fan of something. You could be a fan of baseball, a musical group, ice cream, etc. Everyone is comfortable with that. When we say fanatic, we get a little less comfortable with it, don't we? Although fan is short for fanatic, when we say the longer version, it implies a greater intensity. If you were to add "Christian" in front of that, then the implication becomes something even more concerning and definitely has a negative connotation to it. Well, Timothy Keller, in his book "The Reason for God" explains what the problem is with Christian Fanaticism. I love this excerpt:

Fanaticism
Perhaps the biggest deterrent to Christianity for the average person today is not so much violence and warfare but the shadow of fanaticism. Many nonbelievers have friends or relatives who have become “born again” and seem to have gone off the deep end. They soon begin to express loudly their disapproval of various groups and sectors of our society—especially movies and television, the Democratic Party, homosexuals, evolutionists, activist judges, members of other religions, and the values taught in public schools. When arguing for the truth of their faith they often appear intolerant and self-righteous. This is what many people would call fanaticism.

Many people try to understand Christians along a spectrum from "nominalism” at one end to “fanaticism” on the other. A nominal Christian is someone who is Christian in name only, who does not practice it and perhaps hardly believes it. A fanatic is someone who is thought to over-believe and over-practice Christianity. In this schematic, the best kind of Christian would be someone in the middle, someone who doesn’t go all the way with it. Who believes it but is not too devoted to it. The problem with this approach is that it assumes that the Christian faith is basically a form of moral improvement. Intense Christians would therefore be intense moralists or, as they were called in Jesus' time, Pharisee’s. Pharisaic people assume they are right with God because of their moral behavior and right doctrine. This leads naturally to feelings or superiority toward those who do not share their religiosity, and from there to various forms of abuse, exclusion, and oppression. This is the essence of what we think of as fanaticism.

What if, however, the essence of Christianity is salvation by grace, salvation not because of what we do but because of what Christ has done for us? Belief that you are accepted by God by sheer grace is profoundly humbling. The people who are fanatics, then, are so not because they are too committed to the gospel but because they're not committed to it enough.

Think of people you consider fanatical. They’re overbearing, self-righteous, opinionated, insensitive, and harsh. Why? It’s not because they are too Christian but because they are not Christian enough. They are fanatically zealous and courageous, but they are nor fanatically humble, sensitive, loving, empathetic, forgiving, or understanding—as Christ was. Because they think of Christianity as a self improvement program they emulate the Jesus of the whips in the temple, but not the Jesus who said, “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone” (John 8:7) What strikes us as overly fanatical is actually a failure to be fully committed to Christ and his gospel.

When put this way, I feel much more comfortable saying I'm a fan of Jesus...or even a fanatic.

Father's Day Thoughts

Disclaimer: Personally I try to refrain from being overly sentimental or "mushy" on this blog. This entry fails miserably in this area. If you're looking for humor, especially in the form of sarcasm, you might want to check back on another day.

Father's Day is an interesting time for me. Frankly, my dad was pretty much absent for most of my life. My folks divorced when I was still in preschool. I tell people who ask, that when he divorced my mom, he divorced me as well. Of course our divorce took longer. By the time I was 13, dad didn't really engage in my life. I'd see him at Christmas up until he moved to Florida after my senior year of High School. When he came back a few years later, it was even less frequent. Frankly, this stunk. I'm a pretty affectionate and emotional guy, especially now, and I find myself having to forgive my dad time and time again. The last time I remember my dad telling me he loved me, was the third day of my third year of college. It was right after he told me that he didn't have the money to pay for the school term I had just started. Him saying it then brought attention to the fact that he didn't say it at other times. I always wondered how much he meant it. Dad chose not to participate at a young age and as I got older, I probably didn't make much of an effort either. In 1992, he declined to come to my wedding. His widow doesn't remember why he made this decision. Dad died in 1997. I still love him and wish I could sit down and talk to him about things.

So, with Father's day on us, I ruminate. I think about these things. This isn't to say that all my time with my dad was bad. Actually the time I had with him was good...it just wasn't much time. When Tina and I were dating and both of us knew where things were going, she said one of the nicest things she has ever said to me. She said, "If we ever get married, I hope I can give you a son, so that you can do everything with him that you didn't have the opportunity to do with your dad." It was such a wonderful thing to hear and think about. The thought about having the opportunity to spend time with a son and love, guide, coach, and father him gave me hope and anticipation for healing in the future. Those words were forever engraved in my heart and mind.

I also think about the surrogate fathers from my past. These were guys in my past who in one way or another showed me many flavors of fatherhood. Most of them cared for me even though I didn't belong to them. Other's modeled fatherhood for me. I care a lot about them and today I think about them as well.

Presently, I'm in the middle of it all. I've had seventeen years of marriage and our two kids keep us active, stressed, and sometimes frazzled. Sometimes, it's hard to step back and think about what the family means to me or where we even are in this current stage of life. It occurred to me earlier today that our oldest child is halfway through his childhood. In nine years, he will likely be off to college with his brother joining him three years later. I don't think about this too often. Not because of any reason other than life is busy. Yesterday was busy as well. I spent more hours than I wish to admit working in the yard. It was hot and it took me the rest of the day to cool off. I was exhausted. After dinner, I was laying around the house and the boys were outside in the heat again! They haven't realized yet that you're not supposed to willingly go out in 90 degree heat. I guess that comes with age. Tina had joined them as well. I was alone inside where it was nice and cool. I had absolutely no desire to go out in the heat. I was spent. I got up and went over to our window to see what they were up to. My wife was working on setting up our grill on our new patio, and there was my oldest, Chris, pitching whiffle balls to Andrew. I saw smiles through the sweat and I felt something like a dawning on my heart. "Here it is," I thought. I was reminded of my incredible wife and her precious words before we were married, "I hope I can give you a son." And in my head I responded "There's two! God gave me a wonderful wife who in turn gave me two boys!" I quietly walked a little closer and sneaked out on the patio to watch Chris throw to his brother.
Andrew spots me, and asks as he has many times before, "Dad, can you pitch to us?" It's hot, humid, and miserable.
I respond, "I just want to watch for now." Chris throws to his brother again, as I continue to savor the moment. They were not going to let these last few minutes before bedtime slip away. After thinking about this site a moment or two more, I asked myself, "How could I pass up the opportunity to do with them what I had always wanted?" A moment longer I call out to the boys, "Just a minute. Let me get my shoes on." It was a day early, but it was already the best Father's Day I've ever had.

Pair o' Dime Props: Those with Imperfect Attendance

Well, folks, it's that time of year again. Over the past few weeks, schools have been letting out for the summer and many have graduated. Awards ceremonies have taken place and some have received, in my sons' principal's words, "The most coveted award in school." That's right, the perfect attendance award. News stories in print, radio and television laud the ones who have 12 years of perfect attendance and some have even accomplished perfect attendance and no tardies! Wow!

But this post isn't about them. They got their recognition. This post is about those who didn't get it. Yes, the rest of us! Congratulations on not going to school everyday. Now, don't get me wrong. I'm a big fan of education. Why, I spent 7 years in undergraduate school alone, (insert rim shot here), and an additional 2 years in grad school. I love school so much I got an education degree and currently work at a university. I'm a big fan of school and I highly recommend it. However I do remember bouts of tonsillitis, colds, sinus infections and one time even encephalitis that kept me from attending every minute of my courses. I survived and even graduated!

I raise a glass to you, imperfect attenders! For those of you who when you felt bad, took that as a sign you should lay low and recover. You knew that if you were sick, you should stay home and watch The Price is Right. (Or for you young folks out there, Sportscenter for four hours straight). Props go to your parents also! Your parents read the school's student handbook and complied with the part that said, "If your child has had a fever in the past 24 hours, he or she should not come to school." By doing this, you no doubt helped others stay well by not spreading your sickness to them. Because of this, you have a better understanding of following rules. That was very considerate of you and your parents. Perhaps even your folks let you go on vacation during the school year because they were confident you could make up the work and still do well. You also have a better understanding of what "real life" is about. As you get older, you're going to have sick days. Your coworkers will thank you for staying home and not getting them sick. As age sets in, you will need to take mental health days too. You know now that missing school, or work, isn't some sort of tragic occurrence. As a matter of fact, those days of missing school or work will lessen the likelihood of burnout. I contest that you graduates are more prepared to understand life as an adult! So, a tip of the cap to you, imperfect attenders! The world awaits you...when you're healthy and not on vacation.

DISCLAIMER: Pair o' Dime Shift is not in any way encouraging or condoning truancy in our children, nor does it accept any responsibility for any increase in a child's absences due to the legion of kids who read this blog. A good education is extremely valuable and every subject is pertinent to obtaining all of your necessary life skills. The author of Pair o' Dime Shift would not be nearly as intelligent as he is if it weren't for that introduction to film class he took in 1987. How does one survive without understanding the intricate philosophical undertones that come with the viewing of Last Year at Marienbad?If at all possible, children should be in school learning everything they can about every subject. Bottom line: KIDS, STAY IN SCHOOL!!!

Contagiousness

This past week, I began reading The Tipping Point, by Malcom Gladwell. This book, is subtitled, "How Little Things Can Make a Big Difference." In the introduction, Gladwell discusses, contagiousness, but he wants us to look at it in a different light than just things like Swine Flu. I think we've become better at this. We now say someone may have a contagious laugh or attitude. It's a positive thing. Now, I'm not going to go all cerebral on you here, because even though the point in the excerpt below is well made, I couldn't help but laugh while reading it. See if you find humor in it...or perhaps it may just make you sleepy....

A world that follows the rules of epidemics is a very different place from the world we think we live in now. Think, for a moment, about the concept of contagiousness. If I say that word to you, you think of colds and the flu or perhaps something very dangerous like H.I.V. or Ebola. We have, in our minds, a very specific, biological, notion of what contagiousness means. But if there can be epidemics of crime or epidemics of fashion, there must be all kinds of things just as contagious as viruses. Have you ever thought about yawning, for instance? Yawning is a surprisingly powerful act. Just by reading the two yawns in the previous two sentences--and the two additional yawns in this sentence--a good number of you will probably yawn within the next few minutes. Even as I'm writing this I've yawned twice. If you're reading this in a public place, and you've just yawned, chances are that a good proportion of everyone who saw you yawn is now yawning too, and a good proportion of the people watching the people who watched you yawn are now yawning as well, and on and on, in a ever-widening, yawning circle.

Yawning is incredibly contagious. I made some of you reading this yawn simply by writing the word "yawn". The people who yawned when they saw you yawn, meanwhile, were infected by the sight of you yawning--which is a second kind of contagion. They might even have yawned if they only heard you yawn, because yawning is also aurally contagious: if you play an audio-tape of a yawn to blind people, they'll yawn too. And finally, if you yawned as you read this, did the thought cross your mind--however unconsciously and fleetingly--that you might be tired? I suspect that for some of you it did, which means that yawns can also be emotionally contagious. Simply by writing the word, I can plant a feeling in your mind. Can the flu virus do that? Contagiousness, in other words, is an unexpected property of all kinds of things, and we have to remember that if we are to recognize and diagnose epidemic change.

OK, maybe it's not that funny. As a matter of fact, I'm bushed. Goodnight.

Mountains and Valleys

While reading this morning, I came across these words by Oswald Chambers in My Utmost for His Highest: "If we continually try to bring back those exceptional moments of inspiration, it is a sign that it is not God we want." (May 1)

This got me thinking. I LOVE those mountaintop experiences! I had one that lasted a while in the fall of '07. (Ironically because I was reading of all books, Ecclesiastes). I'm ready for another one soon! Actually the sooner the better. Of course the analogy goes one step further when it comes to human nature. If all of life was a mountaintop experiences we would feel as if we were on a plateau. But back to the point that Chambers makes above. The Joy we get from these experiences are a great source of fuel and encouragement but they should not be our goal.

Like I mentioned above, these experiences cannot last forever, so what is it that we should make of the valley experiences? Well, here are a few passages regarding this:

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."
-James 1:2-5

"No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it."
-Hebrews 12:11

"In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed."
-1 Peter 1:6-7

So clearly, the valley is well worth it. The mountaintop experience as well as our desire to persevere fuels us for these occasions. What is interesting though is when I see my son struggling with something I feel the pain he is feeling. He is my boy and I dread that he has to go through it.

1. There are times when he is struggling and it's because he needs to learn something. I have to use every ounce of my energy to keep from intervening when he's frustrated. I have to wait for him to figure it out because once he does, he will be all the better for it.
   
2. There are other times when he if going through something and I know that he will be unable to do by himself. His pride often keeps him from asking for help, but I'm waiting...I want him to ask me. I am pleased when he does and very happy to help him figure it out. I also love the "thank you" I receive afterward.
3. Of course there are times when it is completely out of his control to even get close to getting through it without me. When this occurs, he leans on me completely, and I have the opportunity to lovingly push him through the struggle.
   

So I say all of this to ask/extrapolate the following. Does God feel similar to the way I feel when my boys work through an issue? Does he have compassion and sadness while he allows the issue to continue while I work through what I'm learning? Does he patiently wait for my appeal to him when I need his help? And does he lovingly intervene in the times when it is impossible for me to do it on my own? (I suspect he intervenes many times without me even realizing it). Watching my kids work through something provides me with the opportunity to help, to show love and to feel a sense of joy and encouragement when they take the right actions to overcome the trial. Is it possible that my valleys somehow encourage God when I work through them while leaning on him? It's almost like a spiritual give and take if it's true. The mountaintops encourage me and the valleys, perhaps encourage him.

Despised

I believe last year at this time I was also thinking about Isaiah 53. What a wonderful chapter it is! I find great encouragement in the words that were written prior to the Sacrifice that our Lord made for us on the cross. Today we remember that day.

I consider the following:

• Jesus, in the Garden with the weight of the following day on his heart and mind. He had such dread of the following day he asked the Father if there was another way.
  
• His closest friends in their weakness sleeping while he laments the pain and burden forthcoming. Imagine how alone he must have felt!
• A disciple kissing him, as a sign of complete betrayal, greed and evil.
  
• Another disciple, who Jesus himself said he would build his church on, denying he even knew Jesus...three times.
  
• The mockery, the hate, the thorns, the cursing, laughing, striking, spitting, nailing, hanging and piercing...

I can't truly imagine it completely. But it was done. And it was done by people like you and me. And he suffered it for people like you and me.

Who believes what we've heard and seen? Who would have thought God's saving power would look like this?

The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
a scrubby plant in a parched field.
There was nothing attractive about him,
nothing to cause us to take a second look.
He was looked down on and passed over,
a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.
One look at him and people turned away.
We looked down on him, thought he was scum.
But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.
We thought he brought it on himself,
that God was punishing him for his own failures.
But it was our sins that did that to him,
that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins!
He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
Through his bruises we get healed.
We're all like sheep who've wandered off and gotten lost.
We've all done our own thing, gone our own way.
And God has piled all our sins, everything we've done wrong,
on him, on him.

He was beaten, he was tortured,
but he didn't say a word.
Like a lamb taken to be slaughtered
and like a sheep being sheared,
he took it all in silence.
Justice miscarried, and he was led off—
and did anyone really know what was happening?
He died without a thought for his own welfare,
beaten bloody for the sins of my people.
They buried him with the wicked,
threw him in a grave with a rich man,
Even though he'd never hurt a soul
or said one word that wasn't true.

Still, it's what God had in mind all along,
to crush him with pain.
The plan was that he give himself as an offering for sin
so that he'd see life come from it—life, life, and more life.
And God's plan will deeply prosper through him.

Out of that terrible travail of soul,
he'll see that it's worth it and be glad he did it.
Through what he experienced, my righteous one, my servant,
will make many "righteous ones,"
as he himself carries the burden of their sins.
Therefore I'll reward him extravagantly—
the best of everything, the highest honors—
Because he looked death in the face and didn't flinch,
because he embraced the company of the lowest.
He took on his own shoulders the sin of the many,
he took up the cause of all the black sheep.

-Isaiah 53 (The Message)