Sometimes you’re in the valley. . .

Hope in expectancy:

I have had times where I have asked, “Why am I here?”

There are two different issues—one, to know, “God is with me,” and another being the reality that, “I am with God.”

There are times where we know God is with us, that God is with us in our weakness (see 2 Corinthians 12:9, Where Paul quotes what God has said to him, “My power is made perfect in weakness.”).

Think of the times saints of old have experienced God being with them in jail, for example, like John Bunyan and the classic he penned, Pilgrim’s Progress, while serving time in jail for boldly preaching the gospel.

I wrote this prayer while being in a place I did not want to be, but it represents my lifting up my soul to God and seeing Him with me in my weakness. . . .

Valley Prayer

Here in this valley, here in this desert, I’m missing my friends, missing what’s familiar . . .

But now I’m looking to You, now I’m hoping,

Now I’m trusting in You. . . .

I will wait till You renew me. . . .

Those who never hunger, never get their hunger rewarded.

Here in this desert I find You word: You speak to me;

I am a “captive audience.”

Here all else is apart from me;

But now I’m listening to Your word, Your call. . . .

I long to see the mountain heights again—

The sun reflecting off the snowy peaks. . . .

But I am here now and I know You can see me,

And that is enough.

 

There are times God asks us, “if we are with Him?” This is extraordinarily told in the book of Joshua 5:14-15. Before going to fight for the Promised Land, Joshua encounters a man who says he is not with the Israelites or with their enemies; rather He says He is captain of the Lord of Hosts.

For My Sister

For My Sister . . .

This entry is for my sister, with whom I have shared much.

And I hope she knows how much I care for and admire her. . . .

This is a song I wrote a while back:

You’re My Sister . . .

You’re my sister and you are my friend,

You give me peace when I feel I’m at my end,

You’ve known me since you was only three.

I sing to you ‘cause the music says we’re free. . . .

You’re the one who saw me grow up,

Bashful, afraid, and curious.

You played your violin,

I thought, “Now what’s this screechiness?”

Now of the music that we’ll share, I can only take a peek. . . .

You’re my sister and you are my friend,

You give me hope when I feel I’m at my end,

You’ve seen me, oh-working to achieve,

I sing to you ‘cause you’re an example I believe in. . . .

You’re the one who grew up with me and all the neighbor kids.

We played in lots of back-yards, even Jen’s and our friend Chris’s.

Now the memories that we’ll share I can only take a peek . . .

You’re my sister and you are my friend,

You give me peace when I feel I’m at my end,

You’ve known me since you was only three,

I sing to you ‘cause together we are free, 

We are free . . . Come on let’s be free . . .

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We grew up thinking we were special, ‘cause we were

Children of a king and queen.

But now we know that no matter how hard we try,

We can’t keep hard times from coming into our lives,

But I’m glad that I can look at a New Day

And a future shared with you. . . .

“Considering Quotes”

Lately I’ve been thinking about quotes.  While many quotes seem to try to encourage or lead us on, I think that they also have their limitations.

Many quotes are used without an understanding of the background or the context from which they are originally taken.

One of the main parts of context is the historical place.  In other words, what was happening in the world, or in the life of the person being quoted, at the time the quotation is said, always gives more understanding about an issue than just a simple quote.

(However, a quote, like a Bible verse, can give light and help to a darkened mind of ignorant heart. . . . So much as said).
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A college I used to attend uses a method of learning based on discussion—the give-and-take of people reflecting back thoughts in order to gain clarity and further understanding.

So there is always greater understanding to be gained—especially when the issue has to do with how to live or what to live for.

I just looked up the word, “dialectic,” and it says it is the process of coming together in search of truth, or arguing between two opinions in the hope of coming to greater understand truth.

Today’s culture, being post-modern, says there is no such thing as objective truth, no such thing as something being true for all people, for all time, in all places.  In a culture such as this, the winning truth, slogan, or idea is often the one that speaks the loudest.

So I think it would behoove a person, instead of just looking for quotes to match the moment or to motivate some one, to strive to understand the culture and the historical context which gives rise to the things people say, and the words that carry meaning.

And, yes, in coming to understand truth, we need conversation, we need the use of logic and debate, we need to ask critical questions such as “what is the reason behind what is said?” And “is the quote descriptive or prescriptive?” And “how good is the evidence?” And of course, “what is the context?” 

Just some thoughts I’ve been thinking about lately . . .

Growing Up and How My Life Started in Oregon

 

Every spring, the earth is renewed. . . .

I think about the changing faces of beauty and the changing beauty of places. . . .

After a couple rainy days, the sun comes out and the air is fresh and open, vegetation continues taking root and gets ready to push at dirt and leaf-fragments into blooming blossoms and intricate, diverse foilange.

I’ve spent my whole life in Oregon; no doubt it is—as people say—a beautiful area, full of natural wonder.

How was this place settled? 

Why did people come here?

—It depends on what time period you are talking about. . . .

But coming back to recent history (which the beginning of my life, I guess, is), my parents (as they say) came here because they loved the natural beauty, which was blossoming at the time they came.

 They came in May or June, in the early 1970’s, a period when families were focusing on their own—their own communities, their own homes and circle of friends—back to the things that mattered.

It seems the intent was to provide a safe and interesting, and educationally solid foundation in which their kin could flourish. 

And so my parents, like so many other settlers, moved from Boulder, Colorado, where they had met at Campus Crusade for Christ at University of  Colorado, to Portland, settling in a nice house—one of the bigger ones on our dead-end street.

They came with their first-born daughter, my sister A, at about 1-2 years old.

And so life began on a street named Stephens, including church groups, school, summer and family camp, and “Young Life” retreat center.

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Everything’s smaller when you yourself are small—when you are a “kiddo.”

So our house, which doesn’t seem or look that big to me now, was full of interesting finds, spaces, cubby-holes, places I could “crawl into”—places that felt like safety, that made our house a place where I belonged. . . .

I remember . . . 

Our table—with little cubby-holes underneath—places to store my action-figures and play dolls, like Gumby or Pokey. . . .

And the door in the ceiling, just above my head looking up, leading to dusty rafters and old boards, low ceilings and the singular light-bulb which illuminated the space, places that would fuel a young kid’s imagination like Lewis’s “Magician’s Nephew.”

Then there were the dozen-or-so bushes and trees in our back-yard, and the next-door-neighbor lady, who seemed a bridge to another era, with her big lawn, garden, and times when we interacted over the fence, all of us enraptured at her stories of when the busy street next to ours was a two-lane dirt road; and how she called me “In-jun’” when she saw the eczema on my face. 

And somehow the trees held adventure, and we kids who loved and climbed them there would reach high up in them, and survey the views of far-away streets and billboards, signs of “civilization” beyond our “haven-of-a-home.”

Growing Up

“Bright Lights, Big City”

In these spring days of youth we live it up, together, just coming into our own skin, hanging out at Taco Bell, the ice cream parlor, or the burger joint. . . .

The future seems wide open. . . . 

We were young, living, experiencing the freshness of our lives together.  

Only for some, trials and difficulties had led us to reach out to God, for serving Him somehow—He who had made Himself known in our lives. Experiencing the timelessness of imbibing His presence, of seeing Him in our friends, in the children and youth whose job it was for us to help, to serve, to lead and to guide.

Somehow the fear of God got into us. . . .

And I wasn’t the only one.  A whole host of friends and comrades were growing up together.

Meditations on Place and Time

 

Along the Road

Thoughts . . . like a country road—it takes you somewhere interesting, and these meditations in and of the city in which I live and the places I frequent. . . .

2/21

In this late-February day, only the last vestiges of snow (in banks, shoveled into piles) are left after a long freeze and storm.

Melted gradually, seemed out of place. . . .

But things, in the created world, take time to change—sometimes changing so slow it is barely visible. 

But change they do, and we find there is order and restoration in the universe once again.

3/21

The street lights fail to diminish the glow of downtown—skyscraper and far-off radio-tower lights—showing signs of civilization both near and far. . .

Reminds me of, as a kid, coming home from vacation with my sister and I lying down in the back of our Volvo station wagon, seeing street signs and street lights until we finally turn the corner onto our street, into a welcome and quiet, as-if-waiting house, bringing feelings of the comfort of return to what is familiar, but not quite wanting to let go of the fun and adventure also of seeing family in a far-away state.

3/21

Here in The Dalles, we meet—you and I, or you and someone else—at the frontier, at the confluence of paths, like the name says, of different currents and rapids gliding over rocks and between shores. . . .

Friendly people, an historic downtown: we meet kind of an openness—open people—open to the sky, to the mountains and river nearby.

Kids grow up there wanting to push their borders, expand beyond, to places like Portland—if not to live there, at least to visit this bustling city with all of its cosmopolitan vibe and attractions.

3/25/21

. . . Here we were, in the parking lot of Carl’s Jr., 

Praying for each other, praying for our families, for the good things change has brought our way, trusting our Maker truly cares for us. . . .

4/21

Seeing the Denny’s where so many of the older generation frequent, I’m reminded of each generation’s life, of their aspirations, their accomplishments and legacy. . . .

The heritage we share—how it matters, the details as well as the esprit de corps, the “ebb and flow” of relationship and communication.

10/21

Tonight the air is warm and balmy in this late-October, mid-fall day, after rain.

Leaves of various types cover the streets . . .

Children are beginning to get used to school and have anticipation of trick-or-treating or other activities on Halloween.

Families together think of fall activities—get-togethers with friends and hikes, reminding us again of what is most important.

2/22

Tonight, I’m thankful for the friendly man who “checked me out” at the food register, who seemed to “see” me, although we had never met before. . . 

That my mom was willing to stop here, to get some berries.

. . . For the friendly nurse at the orthopedic doctor’s office, for getting through a somewhat-painful appointment, for growing to learn and live in love.

2/22/22

This winter is definitely warmer than last winter, when we had the huge snowstorm.  Now, by looks but not in temperature, it seems to be spring or summer. . . .

Flowers are already shooting upward in various “earth colors”— yellow, purple, pink, light green, lavender, orange, white and various shades of blue.

 

2/24/22

The Northern Flicker outside my window nibbles and pecks at the vegetation in the garden box.

“Spring is coming!” It seems to herald—“Look all about and you will see signs of life—of rebirth and blossoming.”

3/11/22

Mom and I went to the French Quarter in Multnomah Village. . . I had a good time hanging out, being in the moment, seeing people with their dogs. . . .

Getting my muscles massaged. . . . My sister had gotten us gift certificates for massages, and it was time to use them. . . .

. . . hanging out, enjoying the decor, the friendly people and the food carts. . . .

Eating, making memories. . .

All in all, I would say this was a day of discovering a new “esprit de corps.”

What Color are Your Relationships?

 

Colors have meaning.

And here is a meditation on colors and how they relate to relationships. . .

Today I choose and look to friendships with a hue of deep, turquoise or royal blue. . . .

Like a sky and sea blending into each other with a host of cumulus clouds above. . . .

There is peace, there is continuity in the ebb and flow, kind of like the coming-in and going-out of the ocean’s tide.

I prefer these relationships, where trust is hard-fought, steady, and sure, to any pink cotton-candy fluff—as in a Facebook “like” or “thumbs-up” or all the glittery love songs on the radio.

Instead of floating up into the clouds like the Light Princess (see George Macdonald), I choose somewhere in the middle, holding steady and true, ready to rise and fall according to the need/desire of the moment.

A cool blue rather than a hot pink or loud yellow.

I choose to look past the latest fad to the time-held truths of stability and traditional values and knowledge. . .

Life can be a journey and it only makes sense to seek out the meaning in it—seek out the truths—the things our world and culture have hidden.  (Check out “A Place to Stand” and “Damascus Road” by Rich Mullins).

Reflecting on Friendship and “The Power of the Other.”

 

Thoughts on Friendship and Interpersonal Ministry

One book I am looking forward to reading is, “The Power of the Other: The power other people have on us and what you can do about it” by Henry Cloud.

I am finding this in old friends with whom I have continued to keep in touch and share life with, as well as family members with whom I share a friendship. . . .

Good friends can remember things for you, which is a big source of stability. 

I think of how amazingly thankful Noah must have been after the flood as the waters dissipated and he made an altar to the LORD for remembering him and his family. . . .

In fact he said at that time, “The LORD remembered us.”

Indeed, for God formed the first rainbow in the sky to show His love, faithfulness and covenant He made with mankind after that, saying that He would never again destroy the world with a flood, with a “deluge.”

Indeed, this showed that God was doing a New Thing and renewed the face of the earth. 

 In 1 Peter as the apostle Peter talks about how the saints (what believers are called in the New Testament) as living stones are being built together into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ (1 Peter 2:5), he said, “Whoever speaks, let him speak, as it were, the very words of God” (1 Peter 4:11).

This is the sacerdotal (priestly) ministry believers can have with each other as they obey Jesus Christ (1 Peter 1:2).

One thing my dad said to me once, and which I believe, is that “God brings back that which has gone before” (Ecclesiastes).

In other words, nothing is wasted. . . .

Indeed, it is a joy to be a source of friendship and affirmation to friends in reminding them of the truth—a friendly word, an encouraging reminder, and as I have said before, having friends who know me well and can encourage/affirm me, a.k.a. “Telling me the Truth,” is a source of stability. . . . I think this is part of what Cloud is talking about in “The Power of the Other.”

And I believe this dynamic can and should continue as we go through life with new experiences, transitions, relationships, opportunities, etc.

Can I hear an Amen?!