I recently called a friend who has endured more than his share of hardship and weariness. People dear to him, people he loves, have made choices that have caused themselves pain and brought him heartache. When my friend answered the phone, however, his voice was bright.
Last year I received two pieces of extremely sad news within a few hours. First came the news that a dear friend died of a sudden heart attack. Steve, who was only 60 years old, was a good man who loved Jesus and his family. A few hours later brought the tragic news of a dearly loved couple whose marriage collapsed under the weight of an adulterous affair.
Waiting in a long line to ride a roller coaster, I considered turning back several times. When it was finally my turn to board, the safety bar in the seat I was to occupy wouldn’t release properly. I was afraid of getting stuck, but I hopped in anyway. When the safety bar came down too tightly on my lap, I felt trapped and scared! I considered waving my hand and asking to be excused from the ride. But an attendant announced over the loudspeaker, “You can scream and you can shout, but there’s no way we’ll let you out.”
When motorcycle riders approach a sharp turn in the road, they strive to look beyond it to the direction they want to head. By looking ahead—where they want to go—they can ride smoothly through the turn and continue on their journey.
My first roommate in college didn’t seem to want to be friends. He listened to music with his headphones on and stared at his computer all day, and nearly all night. He didn’t want to joke around or share a meal. We rarely spoke for the first few weeks. He simply didn’t want to interact.
When was the last time you lingered in silence simply to delight in the beauty of God? One Christian artist thinks that “beholding” His beauty is essential in a Christian’s life. Writer Joseph Sunde, in a blog post titled “Beauty on a Bike Ride,” quoted artist Mako Fujimura as saying: “Perhaps the greatest thing we can do as a Christian community is to behold. Behold our God. Behold His creation.”
Lorenzo Quinn’s 900-pound aluminum sculpture called “Hand of God” features a gigantic open hand with a man seated on the highest part of an upturned palm. The man appears to be troubled and his posture reflects deep discouragement. But the hand that holds him up is much larger than he is.
The familiar darkness of clinical depression rolled over Leigh as she sat on the edge of the bed holding a revolver—tormenting voices urging her to pull the trigger. As a Christian wife and mom, she knew this picture was all wrong, but the consuming illness had clouded her mind. Apart from her husband and doctor, no one knew of the daily struggle she faced. Leigh slowly put the gun down, walked out the room, and chose to begin reaching out and sharing her story with others.
My country esteems “rugged individualism”—the idea that truly strong people do things on their own. The icon of this peculiar value was the Lone Ranger, a famous fictional cowboy of radio and the silver screen, and a solitary masked hero that protected others from harm. But it’s interesting to note that the Lone Ranger was hardly alone. He had a trusty horse named Silver and a constant companion named Tonto. Because of this, the supposedly “Lone” Ranger had more friends than many people do!
In his short story “Leaf by Niggle,” J. R. R. Tolkien describes a kindhearted, perfectionistic painter who failed to complete the landscape that became his life’s work. Because he was kind, Niggle often helped his neighbors rather than work on his painting. And because he fretted over details, he only managed to paint the first leaf on the first tree. He died with apparently little to show for his life. His “one beautiful leaf” was placed in the town museum “and was noticed by a few eyes.”
Recently as I sat in a circle of leaders from our church, a woman asked a simple question, provoking rich discussion. “What are your hopes for our church?” There were several responses, for our little community has many hopes. But on that night this spilled out of me: “I hope we become more and more the kind of people who learn to resist the anxieties of this world because we believe Jesus is with us and that Jesus is doing something with us.”
On Christmas Eve in 1968, Apollo VIII became the first manned vehicle to circle the moon. Because it was nearly Christmas, the 3-man crew was asked to say something appropriate to mark their historic mission. From thousands of miles in outer space, Genesis 1:1-10 was broadcast to earth: “In the beginning God . . .” In his autobiography Countdown, Frank Bowman, one of the three Apollo VIII astronauts, explains why they read from the Scriptures: “There was one more impression we wanted to transmit: our feeling of closeness to the Creator of all things.”
When I visited the land of Israel, I was surprised by the small size of the Sea of Galilee. This was no sea, but merely a lake some 21 kilometers long and 13 kilometers wide. I could easily see across to the other side. How could a storm on this tiny body of water terrify the disciples? Talk about a tempest in a teapot! I scoffed at their fear—until I saw the size of an ancient boat.
If you’re unsure how to get from point A to point B, what do you do? Recently I discovered the Google Maps app. Key in your starting point, enter your ending point, and voil?! The application will get you there. I have one gripe, however. It sometimes takes me the long way to my destination because it doesn’t always factor in the latest road conditions or take into account which roads are open for shortcuts.