The Present

One present. Just one.

Of all the traditions my family had while I was growing up, there was one I always looked forward to. Each Christmas Eve we were allowed to open a single present from a family member. One present.

Of all the gifts under the tree I knew exactly which one I wanted to open. Wrapped neatly. About one an a half times the size of a deck of cards. From Great Aunt Katherine. She was so proper. Such a lady. Her gift must be really nice.

Other evening activities complete, it was time to open that alluring gift. As the wrapping came off, I read the contents as printed on the box: Male Grooming Kit. A male grooming kit?

Two sizes of nail trimmers. An emory board. A cuticle remover. A comb. And, a shoe horn. My new, male grooming kit. I was nine years old.

Life is like that, isn’t?

We’ve got our expectations. Our preconceived ideas. Our dreams. And then life… Life hands you a male grooming kit. Useful, perchance, but not what you hoped for. 

2020 has been a bit like that male grooming kit. Not the gift we’d have asked for or even welcomed, but it was the year we got. It was the present.

We might grieve the year we didn’t get. The cancelled plans. The disappointments. The special occasions missed. The inconvenience. The separation. The heartache.

But, what did we learn? What good came of all this bad? What hope from all this pain? What love amidst this mess? What has God been after within you through 2020?

God loves you. He works in you. Even if the present feels like a male grooming kit to a nine year old boy.

“For it is God who works within you to will and to act according to his good purpose.”

— Philippians 2:13

Fish for Breakfast

“When they landed, they saw a fire of burning coals there with fish on it, and some bread.”

— John 21:9 NIV

The hopes of Jesus’ disciples were dead as his body that lay in the grave. Then he rose from the dead. In the days following, Jesus appeared not once, not twice, but six times to one or more of his followers. He shared peace, hope, faith, and knowledge as he did.

Peter, Thomas, Nathanael, James, John, and two other disciples traveled from Jerusalem to Galilee as Jesus commanded. John 21:1-14 recounts the story.

Peter—ever ready to do something—decides to go fishing. The others join him. In the job he left and the boat he left three years earlier to follow Jesus. Yet, now, despite the hope of post-resurrection appearances there are questions.

Without Jesus here, how will my life go?

I followed him. I believed in him. Jesus was everything to me. And, now, he’s gone. How do I continue to follow him when he’s not here to follow? How will he provide for me now? To lead me? Or, am I on my own? Again. To live life by my terms? Once more. To provide for myself again as a fisherman? So. Yes. I’ll go fishing.

All night they fished and caught nothing. As dawn breaks they’re heading in when a not yet identified as Jesus person on the shore says of their lack of fish, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find some.” They do. Too many to haul in.

John says “It is the Lord!”

Peter jumps in and swims a hundred yards to Jesus.

The others struggle ashore dragging the net full of 153 large fish.

And there, indeed, on the shore is Jesus. Roasting them fish for breakfast and some bread.

Why fish for breakfast? What is Jesus teaching? What were they to learn? What are we to learn?

When we obey God—going where He says and doing what He commands—we will know His presence and His provision.

See Him or not. God is with us.

Except Him or not. God provide for us.

Perceive Him or not. God loves us.

Follow Jesus.

He Knows It

Kind spirit. Broad heart. Discerning mind. Middle aged. Mentally ill. Robert we'll call him.

Robert was passed through school even though he could hardly read. And he knows it. He is on disability because he can't hold down a regular job due to his mental illness. And he knows it. He has few friends because of the way his good nature has been taken advantage of. And he knows it. He is a follower of Christ because he needed salvation from his sin. And he knows it. He has much of the Bible memorized in order to make better choices and show his love for God. And he knows it. Yet he is not a member of a local church because most Christians treat him judge him as lacking. And he knows it.

He knows he is judged. Measured as less than. Considered dependant. And he knows it.

Why?

By no fault of his own. Robert didn't choose mental illness. Who would choose such a life? He didn't. But it is his life.

As a Christ follower, I comforted and counseled Robert, while I boiled on the inside at the treatment of this dear man by so-called Christians. I want to scream to anyone listening: This is not right! He may not be who you think he should be, but he is a wonderful man! 

Robert had no harsh word for anyone. He simply stated his experience with people. Especially church people. And he used only one phrase that might sound negative. That is, if it applies to you. He said that people with jobs, particularly church people, can be so "self righteous." Just because they have a job and he doesn't, they see themselves as better than him. How does he know? Because they have told him so.

Are you a disheartened Robert? Are you a judging self-righteous? Are you an apathetic in between? Or are you a Christ follower that will meet people—every single one created in God's image—where they are at, as they are, and accept them with no self-righteousness?

Robert has been judged for who he is not. He has not been accepted for who he is.

If you are a Robert: The expectations of others do not define who you are. God alone counts.

If you are Self-righteous: You are not better than anyone due to anything. God alone judges.

What would God say of your attitude, Dear Reader? 

He knows it.

Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus.—Philippians 2:5

Please comment or share this post below. And, of course, you are welcome to subscribe to this site.

Longer Shorter

Al-mooooooos-t home. Same way I drive home from church all the time. 6.3 miles. East on Nebraska Highway 2. South on 56th. East on Cavvy. South on 59th. 6.3 miles. Yet. Since I've been gone for two long days. Didn't sleep well either of the past two nights. Ate too much while visiting with colleagues. And road weary from all the miles. These last miles seem longer the shorter the distance is to home. Longer shorter. 

On my mind. Near a year ago now I lost a good friend. A man who I respected like few. A man who held the admiration of all. A man of character. A man who fought cancer for months. And won. Relocating to a mansion on a street of gold. Yet. It was tough to see him go. His passing came slowly. The days seemed longer the closer he got to his eternal home. Longer shorter.

Thoughts now of a my last marathon. Absent here so far. 26.2 miles. Fort Worth Cowtown Marathon. Same race that I'd run a year previous. A hilly course, but much, much better weather this year. Yet. I was undertrained. Too few miles those months before. Too little consistency as well. Too fast on my first half. Too spent on the second. Those last miles. Those last few miles. Seemed so much longer the closer I got to the finish line. Longer shorter. 

Longer shorter is not real.

It just seems real.

Road weary. Sickness weary. Race weary.

Weary. 

But ready to be welcomed. Ready to be at the end of the road. End of the earthly journey. End of the race.

Weary.

But expectant of things to come.

That expectation. That makes longer shorter.

Would that I live each day as a gift with the urgency of eternity pressing me to live every moment fully here. 

Longer shorter.