Category / Personal

by Greg

Feelin’ Gloomy

rainyday

It’s been a wet and rainy spring here in Upstate New York. And though it’s been a while since we’ve dealt with this, we’ve had a bout with a flooded basement. (And probably a recurrence today!)

It’s dark, wet, and even cooler than usual…

I LOVE IT! 🙂

But most of the folks we know are not in that “Love” boat with me.

For some reason, I really enjoy darker, cooler, days. Rain is very relaxing to me. (I am grateful for that, because the rest of my life is currently not feeling very “relaxful”…)

Most of the human race seems to disagree with me, however. (A quick glance at the Twitter hashtag “#rain” will reveal some very grumpy dispositions.)

A friend was recently extolling the benefits and wonders of Vitamin D, which is aided by exposure to sunlight. That’s not happening right now, so… that apparently can affect moods.

(What do people in Seattle do? That’s a real question.)

When things beyond our control (like the weather) get us down, it can sometimes help to make a list of the good things. A “thankful” list. The “silver lining”. Whatever you call it, it’s good to focus on the brighter side of things.

So let’s look at these rainy Spring days:
rainclouds

Looking for the Silver Lining on these Dark Clouds

  • The garden is well-watered, and you don’t have the accompanying larger water bill!
  • All of these indoor days allow for much more reading time!
  • Darker days are easier on the eyes?
  • The air smells wonderful when it rains.
  • We’ll miss these days when it’s a sweltering 90 degrees a few weeks from now?
  • At least it’s not as bad as what Noah had to endure?
  • You can always work on your rendition of “Singing in the rain”…

There are probably more, but hopefully that gets you started.

I do feel a bit more peaceful taking a moment to enjoy the dark, rainy day. I think I’d be OK in Seattle. If you are one of those who needs sunny days to survive, I hope you can hang in there for a little while longer. (And I hope you don’t live in Seattle, or Rochester for that matter…)

Do you like rainy, cloudy, darker days, too? (I can’t be alone here!) If not, how do you cope with these long stretches of “gloomy”?

If you’re feeling gloomy because of the weather, please remember, some of us are actually enjoying this (remember Empathy? Thinking of Others?) and if nothing else, it’s always good to have a chance to deal with and handle things beyond our control. Right?

🙂

by Greg

Inviting Conversation

conversations

I recently read that from the inception of the blog, one of the best metrics of this communication medium is the community they generate.

To a degree I have experienced that, too. It’s always interesting to read and offer feedback to an article I’ve read around the net, interacting with the others who have done the same. (Note: Sometimes “interesting” doesn’t quite cover the experience, does it?)

Even here at GregsHead.net, it’s always interesting to hear stories sharing similar opinions or thoughts to what I reveal here from the inner workings of my cranium, as well as to hear differing opinions or questions.

Conversation is good. Especially when there is no agenda, just honest discussion of thoughts and opinions.

To that end, I’d like to invite you to jump in. I feel the nudge to start devoting time to writing out the things I’ve only been drafting for a while. (Do you realize there are a full eight-five, sad, forlorn draft posts waiting for me to give them figurative breath?)

I do not plan to check the stats to see how many people have viewed the various (though that can be interesting, too), nor will I check back to see if the post was “Liked” on Facebook or “Tweeted” on Twitter, etc. (Though that, too, can be interesting to monitor… apparently some of my more “Like”-able content has been this and this.)

What I do hope is that you’ll join in. There is a community of folks whom I hear from regarding these various and sundry ramblings posted to the hallowed … halls? of GregsHead.net. I’d like to encourage you to take a moment or two of your day and respond to the postings, and perhaps begin a conversation with other readers that way.

I will continue to publish my thoughts here, whether you are able to chime in, or not. Do you also know that this August will be the 10th anniversary of this blog. Nearly three quarters of a million words published (plus three books published from the writings first published here) … and several interactions along the way, too.

Let’s make it more.

I’m glad you’re here. I hope to hear from you more soon.

🙂

by Greg

Empathy

Earlier this week I told the story here of how one thought led to another, leading me to the interesting conclusion that we are so self-focused that even when we are actually thinking of others we are thinking of self. Incredible, and brilliantly designed by our Creator, I might add.

Another thought that has been bouncing about the various regions of my brain (or wherever it is all of these thoughts and notions and fancies do their bouncing) is the concept of empathy.

Definition of Empathy

Existing nicely in tandem with the familiar refrain of Jesus’ words, “Treat others the way you want to be treated” is this concept of ‘Empathy’. To empathize really means that we are considering others as much as ourselves. Going beyond considering, it’s identifying with the current emotional or circumstantial state of this other person.

But how do we do that? How do we get so outside of ourselves? What’s in it for me?

Don’t be concerned only about your own interests, but also be concerned about the interests of others.

Paul’s words in Philippians are a reminder that the world does not revolve around me. I am not the center of the universe—though, as I mused the other day, there is something deep inside us that imagines that to be true; as dependable as an immutable Law of the Universe. Fascinating.

And yet, we see (especially when observing others, when the situation does not directly affect me) that when you can figuratively place yourselves in the position of—in the “shoes” of—another, that is when real communication can happen, and much more importantly, real, actual love.

Our family read a book called Love Does by Bob Goff. Very entertaining, and motivating. Goff reminds the reader that love is not love unless it’s doing. There must be an action.

Empathy is a sort of bridge for us to cross over to do that loving. When there exists some common connection on any one thing (or more) then it becomes possible to “treat others the way you would want to be treated”.

Nearly every night in the Campbell household, Dad reads. I think it began with the oldest two boys several years ago, but then it included reading with The Youngers, and sometimes as a whole family. I enjoy reading to and with the kids, and it would seem they enjoy it, too. Last night The Youngers and I finished up Because of Winn-Dixie by Kate DiCamillo. What a great story of empathy. Opal moves to a new town and feels disconnected from everyone because of her greatest hurt in life, but as she gets to know people, she finds out that everyone hurts. She certainly learns empathy—and so, she learns friendship. And love.

I think another piece of empathy is not showing favoritism. All are created equal are famous words from our Constitution, but we all know that much of the time, all are not treated equally. But as we are to imitate Jesus, as dearly loved children—and in order to better empathize with everyone we know and meet—we can not show favoritism.

For wherever there is jealousy and selfish ambition, there you will find disorder and evil of every kind.

But the wisdom from above is first of all pure. It is also peace loving, gentle at all times, and willing to yield to others. It is full of mercy and good deeds. It shows no favoritism and is always sincere. And those who are peacemakers will plant seeds of peace and reap a harvest of righteousness. James 3:16-18

If all are equal, then we can treat all equally. Then all are equal with us, and we are equal with all. This goes beyond innate value to experiential reality, too. It’s a safe bet that whatever trials you have been through in life, the person next to you has had an experience that is at least similar (emotionally, if not circumstantially).

It’s still hard. We fight to protect ourselves. It’s hard to think outside of ourselves.

But like James said above, the world would be a better place if we would plant seeds of peace.

I contend that the more we can see others as equals, and understand whatever circumstances we encounter from the other person’s perspective—empathize—the more we will know and enjoy the peace (inside, and outside of ourselves) that God has in abundance, and wants us to be part of.

Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:7

Make allowance for each other’s faults, and forgive anyone who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds us all together in perfect harmony. And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts. For as members of one body you are called to live in peace. And always be thankful. Colossians 3:13-15

by Greg

Others

It’s really funny how much we think of ourselves. Even when we’re trying to think of others.

This morning I was thinking of Jesus’ words, “Treat other people the way you want to be treated,” and how often I have misrepresented those, even to myself—even though I don’t mean to misrepresent them.

I think that was part of Jesus’ point.

Think of this: when we really try hard to think of other people and do something for someone else—especially if we are trying—there’s usually something in it for us. We are hoping for some reciprocation, at least in the form of accolades, appreciation, even just a “Thank you” from the recipient of our graciousness.

But this morning I even saw another way that “do unto others” could be originating in my own ego; founded in my own self interest.

As we go through life, gaining experience along the way, our perspective broadens, and little by little things we previously didn’t understand—really, couldn’t understand—are revealed to us. I believe the is the process of gaining wisdom, or becoming wise. (Please note: I am not saying that I am yet wise!)

One particular thing I’ve noticed in my life is that I continue to understand more of my parents’ love for me as I watch my own kids grow up, and I can’t put into words the way I feel about them. When I’m having a moment where I can see beyond me, I realize this must also be how my parents think of me, at least in part.

This morning I thought I’d just give them a call and chat for a bit sometime today… just because. I already do this now and again, because I am thinking of them. I love them. But, this morning, my thought was, “I want to treat my parents the way I hope to be treated by my kids.”

Several things happened here. First, I really was thinking of others (my parents) as I thought of how I was their son, and I was thinking ahead to the relationship I hope I’ll have with my sons and daughters when they are the nearing-forty parents of their own children. It was a genuine moment of seeing a way I could act on a treat-others-the-way-you-want-to-be-treated nudge.

And if I live out this mantra in my own life now, with my parents, then down the road my kids might be inclined to do the same, right?

Then I realized how I was still thinking of myself. Wow!

But maybe that’s why Jesus said it.

Somewhere inside us, God placed this ferocious, tenacious, unyielding self-preservative drive. We are quite good at looking out for Numero Uno. And, knowing us as our Creator does, he asks us to tap into this abundant resource in order to live more fully, while also making the world a much nicer place.

Pretty neat!

I won’t actually receive any immediate, nor guaranteed future benefit from deciding to treat my parents the way I want to (hope to) be treated by my children. My actions toward them have no bearing on any future actions by others towards me. I think maybe that is how we often misrepresent those words of Jesus to ourselves and others: “Treat other people the way you want to be treated… and then you’ll be treated that way!” Nope. No promise of any sort of recouping that shared niceness. None.

But tapping into our mega-oversized self-interest, Jesus knew we’d get a tiny glimpse of how to treat other people the way he thinks of and cares for each one of us.

Watch what God does, and then you do it, like children who learn proper behavior from their parents. Mostly what God does is love you. Keep company with him and learn a life of love. Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn’t love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us. Love like that. Ephesians 5:1-2 MSG

So go think of yourselves. Maybe the more we do, the better our world will be?

That could probably be misinterpreted, too … 🙂

Now, I have a phone call to make.

by Greg

Well-Seasoned

Taylor Guitar - 314ceThese days most of my music making happens whenever the youngest pay me a visit in my office. My guitar is out on its stand, ready for any action it might be required to perform. Most times it just sits there—looking great—but on occasion it will get a little exercise.

Something I have been noticing recently when I pick up my guitar to play a song for my eager visitors (or even for myself every now and again) is that my feel is different. The way I communicate through the sounds and rhythms of the instrument feels different. At least it does to me.

Then today I think I finally had words for this different feeling: aged.

Not aged as in “old” or, “over the hill”. (I’m not yet forty… isn’t that the crest of the hill?) It’s more of a sense of all the life I’ve experienced being added to these songs, both familiar and brand new. An abiding depth that was not there before seems to inhabit the words, and even the way that I phrase and sing them. At least to my ears there is a noticeable difference.

I think this is how it’s meant to be.

I’m still a young pup. Yes, I know that I have a son who is fourteen (and a half) … and I know that I have been married for fifteen (working on sixteen) years to my beautiful wife … and I know that I’m remembering events in my life—significant events to me—that I am now three decades removed from …

But I’m also considerably younger than the Buffalo Bills’ coaching and front office staff, who are supposedly ridiculously young. I’m younger by half a dozen years than the youngest man ever to assume the office of President of our United States. I’m not even a grandpa yet!

Age, as far as years is certainly relative.

But with those years come experiences. Events of our own doing, caused by our own actions and inactions, as well as events that happen to us. The only constant through them all is that Jesus is with us. And as life happens all around us, no matter how I or the rest of the world sees it… it happens. It often feels like an immovable, unchangeable force, but through it all, he is with me. So each step of the way, I learn more of who he is, and how he sees me; and so I learn more of who I really am. I become more of who I really am.

That’s the journey. That’s the aging process. There’s no predicable timetable. We all ripen at a different pace. Somehow the Master Gardener knows the perfect pace for each of us, and he’s even patient enough to wait for us (I think) when we slow down the pace—even by our own rushing ahead.

However it happens… we do age.

I thought of the word “vintage” today, until a bit of research led me to a better understanding of that term. We use it to refer to “older” things, particularly wine. But it really means that the grapes were all harvested in a certain year. So, a bottle of wine with a certain percentage (varies per country) of grapes from the year 2013 would be a “2013 vintage”.

Interesting…

So I landed on another word: Seasoned.

This is perfect. Seasoned. First, it brings up the images of well-seasoned food. Herbs and spices add flavor to most anything, and the right combinations also bring out the natural flavors. I love to season food. I like spicy food, yes, but I love seasoned, flavorful food. Muy sabroso!

Then there are the seasons. Seasons of life. I’ve mentioned this here before, how the seasons of life are so important. As is understanding that they are seasons, and not permanent. Good or bad.

To think of our lives as becoming “seasoned” over the years seems just about right. Not only are we slowly being flavored by the Master Chef—umm… not that he’s planning to eat us, or anything… just working on his masterpiece—we are being shaped and “seasoned” by all of the various events—seasons—of our lives.

And we are different. Changed. Seasoned.

Better.

Not every season is enjoyable. But as long as we’re here, being seasoned… it happened. It is part of your story. Your seasoning.

My seasoning.

I can think of many of the events that have seasoned me since I was a full-time, traveling musician. I remember the events of the years before that, and during that time, when I was writing the songs that we sang. I know what went into those songs then … and I know why they sound different now. But I would guess that there is even more that I’m not fully aware of.

I’m not the chef. I don’t know all that’s being added to this masterpiece.

And I don’t need to.

I just get to enjoy the seasoning, and see evidences of it in how I see things, and the things I say, and how I sing my songs.

I don’t know for sure that it’s better… that’s for someone else to decide. To me it sounds and feels “better”, but not just in a performance metric sort of way. It feels more seasoned. It really does!

And without a doubt, I’m convinced that seasoned, is better.

So at age thirty-eight, I think I’m noticing that I’m becoming more well-seasoned. And I’ve only just begun? Imagine if God and life continue to season me for another four or five decades… or more?

Wow, am I gonna taste good!

Life is a long process. The process is seasoning you to perfection.

For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.—Eph 2:10

And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.—Phil 1:6

by Greg

Monday, Monday!

monday

As the darker, shorter days of winter began giving way to the increasingly earlier sunrises, I have taken up early morning walks once again.

I’m not sure what exactly happened to me… I used to enjoy the cold walks, but I honestly chose not to walk on many days when I previously would have enjoyed the outdoor activity. My reason? Simply because it would be “too cold”. Perhaps it’s another thing to chalk up to “getting older”?

Well, as the temps have been at least above freezing, I’ve ventured out generally at least four days a week, and sometimes five. One day of the week I’ve recently begun to consistently get up and out for my walk somewhere around 6:00am is Sunday morning. Sometimes it will be on the back end of the six o’clock hour, but it’s usually some time that begins with a six.

I just love how quiet everything is. It is seriously quiet. Hardly any traffic, and I can’t say I’ve seen any other walkers so far on those days. I love it!

Now Monday… Monday is a completely different story!

This morning, out at about 6:30am, it felt more like noon! There were a half-dozen other people out walking or jogging, some with their animal companion, others with their technological companion (iPod, iPhone) like me. Besides the foot traffic, there were lines of cars going all four directions at the main intersection I cross to get to the quiet path I prefer to traverse. Really! Lines!

I am struck nearly every Monday by how much we are revved up to get as much done at the beginnings of our weeks. Most of my weeks go like this:

  • Monday, catch up with any emails that came in over the week, and respond to many more requests (emails/calls/etc) that come in Monday throughout the day.
  • Tuesday, receive more work/support requests and follow up on those as well as the ones not completed Monday.
  • Wednesday, finish up whatever was begun Monday and Tuesday, generally not much more work comes in throughout the day.
  • Thursday, finish up any remaining work/support requests and then get back to larger, longer-term projects which were delayed by the flurry of new requests on Monday and Tuesday.
  • Friday and Saturday are free (unless I scheduled a meeting) to work on the longer-term projects as new work/support requests very infrequently come in at all.

Why do we push so hard at the start of the week? Why is everyone rearing to go on Monday morning at 6:30am?

Perhaps even more amusing than the bustle of Mondays, each successive day at the six o’clock hour, the pedestrian and automobile traffic—in the same location—dwindles just a bit more, until reaching the previously mentioned peaceful serenity of Sunday.

You always hear that Mondays are a drag, or that they’re the worst day of the week. I wonder if that’s in part because we come flying out of the gates so hard? Perhaps.

So I hope you had a great Monday, whether you were cranking it up early and pushing hard all day, or if you just resumed a normal, tortoise-paced routine, in no hurry to get this week over with.

I’d like to think I fall more towards the Tortoise. But that might be something better suited for others to remark upon.

Maybe this cycle of frenzy to serenity simply reveals that all is still right with the world, at least on some level.

(Or, maybe it depends on who defines “right” …) 🙂

by Greg

Wordality

tolkienThere is no word to describe what I’m attempting to put into words. The concept of capturing extant reality in written words when no words are used—nor in the true reality, are they necessary—in order to communicate by text or mere oration (and auditory-only experience of that oratory) the experience in its entirety. It’s so difficult, and yet so masterfully accomplished by J. R. R. Tolkien in his stories of Middle-earth.

My two oldest boys and I have been making the journey through Tolkien’s adventures, starting with the Hobbit and subsequently through the Lord of the Rings trilogy for probably the past two years. (We’re taking them at a Sunday Driver’s pace…) The worlds that this man must have seen in his mind’s eye, and the incredible attention to detail that he conveys through description and dialogue are truly, utterly astounding. At times it even feels like too much; there are moments when after a few pages of reading poetry in Elven tongues you begin to wonder, “What is the deal with this guy?”

But then there are moments where you almost feel you are not simply present with the characters, in the magical places—rather you feel as though you are one of them.

Of course this is the goal of anyone who puts pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard), but how many can so well achieve this as has Mr. Tolkien? When you have a society in your name, you’ve probably made a name for yourself.

We’ve nearly reached the end of the third book in the LoTR series, and tonight’s chapter was just such an enjoyable read. Tolkien is bringing together several long, arduous journeys for so many characters through whom he has helped us live this adventure; their joys are ours, all that they are experiencing can be felt by the reader.

When I read the following paragraph, I stopped and commented to my son Ian, the aspiring author, observing that what Tolkien is able to do is to put into words things which have no words. He assembles (even creates) just the right words to allow the reader to enter the entirety of the moment. Not only does he elaborately describe a lush environment in all its fullness, but he also so perfectly captures the emotions and even the reasons for the emotions without “spelling it out” … rather he brings it to life.

‘A great Shadow has departed’, said Gandalf, and then he laughed, and the sound was like music, or like water in a parched land; and as he listened the thought came to Sam that he had not heard laughter, the pure sound of merriment, for days upon days without count. It fell upon his ears like the echo of all the joys he had ever known. But he himself burst into tears. Then, as a sweet rain will pass down a wind of spring and the sun will shine out the clearer, his tears ceased, and his laughter welled up, and laughing he sprang from his bed.

If Artists did not exist who could master the words to somehow so beautifully capture the fullness of that moment, it might have gone something like this:

‘A great Shadow has departed’, said Gandalf, with a laugh, a sound which Sam had not heard for a long time, as their journey had been so full of sadness, toil, and hardship. The sound made him glad, but Sam began to cry. After a while, his tears ceased and he too began to laugh. Then he got out of bed.

One of these things is not like the other …

I remain awe-struck at the way Tolkien not only paints a vivid picture using words, he really creates a wordality. (A reality brought to life—as near as possible—with only words.) The way the emotions of the moment are described in that paragraph, to think to describe the depth of the joy as laughter “[falling] upon his ears like the echo of all the joys he had ever known”, is much more engaging and colorful and real than, “The sound made him glad”.

(It’s quite obvious that I am no J. R. R. Tolkien!)

While words can never capture the fullness of experience, there truly is power in words, and I am becoming a firm believer that J. R. R. was one of the finest word craftsmen/artists/story-tellers ever to have breathed our air.

I shall greatly miss Middle-earth when we finally complete our reading of The Return of The King. I may have to delve into one of the sundry other works of Tolkien that rest quietly on my shelves, anticipating their turn to share the worlds which they contain.

The wordalities I myself endeavor to create may not be as complete and vivid as Tolkien’s, but I will nonetheless continue with ardent fealty my quest to capture with words the thoughts that are stirred in my heart and mind, ruminate in my soul, crescendoing within the depths of my being from the simplest melodies to the most elaborate symphonies; becoming then all the more enjoyable when shared with a fellow Word Enthusiast and Lover of Locution, like you.

by Greg

The Real Value of Stuff

Closer view of lots of stuff, things, and junkI love visual truth. Even though I am a person who loves words, and communicating thoughts, emotions, questions, and experiences through just the right word or phrase chosen to build a vivid picture of truth in one’s mind, there is nothing quite like a visual “object lesson”.

Tonight mine came in the form of a neglected electronic relic.

For a few years we have lamented the condition in which we often find most all of our material possessions—generally that would be broken—because of the lack of value placed on those items by our children. It does not matter that we’ve instructed and admonished them using words, nor does our example of how we care for our own things seem to connect this one lesson with their young hearts and minds.

Nothing we do seems to help them value their stuff.

This evening, as dusk set upon the landscape of our little backyard, I decided to do some post-winter clean up. We got rid of the plastic liner from the ice rink today (whose water had already slowly leaked out the previous many weeks thanks to a hole sliced in it late-winter by a submerged skate), and I was also removing and preparing to store the pieces of wood that form the frame of our frozen playground.

As I was picking up the pieces from the rink deconstruction, I spotted a few other items throughout our yard. (To be clear, that is a gross understatement!) I decided that I would gather up the articles of clothing this evening before it was too dark.

I picked up a small fuzzy jacket which had been left by the campfire pit; and there was a glove or two nearby; a wool knitted hat was left in lonely isolation for untold months of winter.

Then I spotted the walkie talkie.

Lots of stuff, things, and junk

See, this is a working, real, usable (with a battery replacement) walkie talkie. It’s mine. I purchased it, for a decent sum of money. I used it, and it was valuable to me. All of these thoughts raced quickly through my mind as I unburied it from the sand in the kids’ sandbox. (Along with a few more unpaired gloves.)

I grumbled more than a bit as I brushed off the dusty layers of sand and thought, “Why do these kids just not care about our stuff? What in the world can I do to help them know the real value of all of our stuff?!”

Ah. Clarity. Mental and spiritual clarity. Lightbulb. Smile.

I suppose that all of this time, I’ve mostly had it backwards. I am the one who has the “wrong” value on our stuff, and the kids are the ones who actually understand the “real” value of it—

Enjoy it. Use it. And don’t give it a second thought.

Now there’s certainly something to be said for what many refer to as “stewardship”. Our “stuff” does cost us something. (Perhaps the amount of stuff we have in this home is fodder for a future post on the “value of stuff”?) If you’ve spent money to own something, it’s still a good idea to take good care of it. That’s not wrong.

But being all ruffled up over a broken walkie talkie (that you haven’t needed for many years now…) is almost certainly a misplaced, misunderstood value.

And so this night, though the lesson was unintentionally given, my sloppy, careless (fantastically imaginative and fun-loving) offspring reminded me—through my discovering a neglected and most likely ruined possession—the real value of stuff.

by Greg

Rest

rest-areaRest is currently the word reverberating through various sectors of my life.

That usually means I should listen.

I am reading through the Old Testament—slowly but surely—and currently find myself musing through the prophesies (and historical context content) of Isaiah, son of Amoz. There are many utterances and proclamations of doom and destruction for all who have chosen to abandon their Creator—The Creator—and line after line of what most would sum up with the word despair. However, my eye caught a couple interesting verses, including this one:

This is what the Sovereign Lord,
the Holy One of Israel, says:
“Only in returning to me
and resting in me will you be saved.
In quietness and confidence is your strength.
But you would have none of it.

The fifteenth verse of chapter thirty in the book of Isaiah tells us that only in resting (in the Holy One of Israel) will we be saved. That doesn’t make much sense, but the second line reinforces that our strength is found in quietness and confidence. (Remember, Paul says in the New Testament this:

Three different times I begged the Lord to take [my weakness] away. Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

And we’ve all heard this before, from Isaiah chapter 40:

Have you never heard?
Have you never understood?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of all the earth.
He never grows weak or weary.
No one can measure the depths of his understanding.
He gives power to the weak
and strength to the powerless.
Even youths will become weak and tired,
and young men will fall in exhaustion.
But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength.
They will soar high on wings like eagles.
They will run and not grow weary.
They will walk and not faint.

I keep coming across this idea of rest. Perhaps it’s because I am tired. I am overburdened right now by pretty much all areas of my life. I live most days on the edge of tired (or even exhaustion). My constant thought is of when I will be able to rest.

So perhaps my subconscious mind is pushing this “rest” theme out in front of me wherever I turn, whatever I do. It could very well be that.

Or maybe it’s that what I’m really looking for is truly what I need.

Rest.

There are times when rest eludes us. Busyness is one of the seasons of life. (And its ebb and flow are constant and yet unpredictable through all of the other seasons of our lives.) But from what I’ve been reading from Scripture lately—listening hard for the words spoken by my Father—is that I am best when I rest.

Not just sleep… or a good afternoon nap. Real rest. Soul rest.

How that comes is still a bit of a mystery to me. I know a big part of it rests on my ability to live out my trust of Father. The more I try to retain control of my life, of everything around me, the less rest (or peace) I have. I know this. From experience.

But is it that simple? Maybe. God says it plainly enough, and often enough, that our life is found only in him. Him. Not (just) his teachings, or principles, and definitely not what we do for him… but in him.

“Only in returning to me
and resting in me will you be saved.
In quietness and confidence is your strength.
But you would have none of it.”

That last line: But you would have none of it. We can read it like an angry, (justifiably) vindictive accuser, shouting passionately a righteous and correct judgment upon one who has failed.

Or, we could read it as a loving Father, who so longs for his beloved to know the fullness and richness of living loved.

More from Isaiah, this from chapter forty-two:

“He will not crush the weakest reed
or put out a flickering candle.
He will bring justice to all who have been wronged.”

The very nature of Jesus—who is in very nature, God—is rest. Peace. Quiet confidence and strength.

And when we are in him—all of us, only in him—then we, too, know rest.

So, I know this stuff…

Now it’s time to live it.

Thank you, Father, for your wisdom, patience, understanding, and incredible grace and mercy.

And for your Rest.

by Greg

I Don’t Ever Check The Weather

It is not uncommon that I am surprised by the weather. Whether it is a giant snow storm named after an animated fish, or a “heat wave” in January, or just an afternoon rain storm: I am often in the dark.

I don’t recall what specific weather recently alerted me to this pattern in my life, but when I did take notice, I realized it was a quite frequent occurrence.

What does this say about me? Why do I not care to know what weather is coming our way?

Sometimes I do, of course. You’ll recall that we have an ice rink in our back yard, so leading up to that I am frequently looking ahead for below-freezing temperatures. AND, sometimes in the summertime I will check ahead to see if there’s any relief on the way (heat and I do not enjoy each other’s company…)

Winter storm snow on treesBut in general, things like the snow dump named Nemo (that is still coming down as I type this) often come as a pleasant surprise to me.

What I think is, this matches my personality—or perhaps, a learned pattern of behavior?—in other areas as well.

I do not wear a watch. I do not really own a cell phone. If I am late, it’s often because I am engaged with someone else (or for someone else) prior to the appointment to which I have now become late.

There is at the core of my being, a desire to be here and now. Not in the next place, or in a previous place… now.

I don’t think that checking the weather for next week means you’re not living in the now, but my habit of not thinking about checking, or forgetting to… is consistent with a life philosophy of being where I’m at.

Various things in life keep reminding me that we are finite beings. We are located to a time and place. We are here. We are now. We are capable of thinking of the future and the past, but sometimes that makes us less. Not always, of course, but sometimes. Usually it’s when the not-here is clouded by some fear. Worry about the future, or regret/shame/guilt from the past.

Thinking ahead can also be dreaming, though. Dreaming is good. It spurs us on, forward. And memories of the past can warm our hearts and encourage us in the now, as well. I love history! It’s wonderful to remember the good things that have been, even “reliving” them again in our hearts and minds.

Yet I think we are made for the now. Right there where you are. Right now. There must be something in our nature that is uncomfortable with that, no? We are so easily distracted by what is coming next (and sometimes by what we’ve been through).

But, oh, to be surprised by the now! That’s the joy of not checking the weather, or the clock, or the phone. It’s here, where you are, who you’re with. That is the richest experience we can have, I believe.

So, I do sometimes check the weather widget on my Mac OS X Dashboard. (Sometimes I’ll learn of a coming storm through friends who do check the weather on Facebook, and post some pithy comments about the impending… fun.) But I’m glad to still be surprised by what comes next in life. And I don’t think that will change.

I mean, who doesn’t love surprises? 🙂