Listen to 50th Wedding Anniversary

My husband’s uncle Melvin is at the threshold of death.  Last Friday we made a flying trip to Kansas so that my husband could visit with his Uncle Melvin before the pain medication prevents communication.  My husband has some remarkable uncles whom he loves very much.

Death watches are a surreal experience, aren’t they?  While we were there Melvin’s hospital room was filled with people who love him.   His wife and his children, his siblings and their children, and his friends gathered around Melvin’s bed and said nothing about his impending death.

Outside of the hospital room the conversation was entirely about Melvin’s death.  Not when Melvin would die but why? Melvin was diagnosed with cancer two years ago but it was pneumonia that caused him to be admitted to the hospital two weeks ago. The Dr. says Melvin’s colon ruptured sometime during his hospital stay and  according to the Dr. Melvin is not physically, strong enough to endure the surgery that would repair the ruptured place that is allowing toxic waste to enter his body.

So, Melvin is going to die from toxic shock.

Neither of us can wrap our heads around the situation.  My husband and I talked about it all the way home.  Melvin is alert; his mind is as clear as his beautiful blue eyes.  He’s lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw him and his condition has been weakened by the cancer, the cancer treatments and his recent battle with pneumonia but considering all that he is battling against, at the same time, I see physical strength not weakness.

What do I know, though?  I’m no doctor. And no one else is talking about Melvin’s death with Melvin so I’m sure there’s something in the bigger picture that I just don’t grasp.  Maybe there’s really nothing that can be done.  I know I have a hard time with doing nothing yet sometimes that is exactly what I am called to do (or, not do? ugh. I’m confusing myself now).

I only share the experience with you to explain what caused Dan and I to have a discussion about thresholds and why it took 12 hours to make the 8 hour drive home from Kansas to Texas.

We’re always on the threshold of something, right?  My parents are at the threshold of their 51st year of marriage.  My son, Randy is at the threshold of a new career opportunity.  Dan and I are at the threshold of… oh, if you only knew how many thresholds are currently before Dan and me, as individuals and as a couple. It’s staggering, really.

I had my camera with me as we traveled and talked; the trip and the conversation may be among the most memorable of our marriage.  We talked about the thresholds of life events; when we cross a threshold and become a student, a graduate, a spouse, a parent and when we cross a threshold and experience illness, divorce, wealth, poverty.

We talked about the fact that there are some thresholds that we choose to cross, some we are forced to cross, and some we have no business crossing.  We talked about how we choose which thresholds to cross, how we’ve chosen in the past, and how we want to choose, from now on.  

Inevitably, the conversation about how we make decisions turned to a conversation about our attitudes, belief systems, state of mind.  Because, really, even if we’re forced to cross an undesirable life-event threshold we still have a choice about the attitude thresholds we cross, daily.

The threshold into isolation, for example, could be the fear of being disappointed by a relationship, again.And sometimes we choose to cross the threshold of denial and what is really an outhouse, full of you-know-what, appears to be a place we can abide in peace and harmony.

We even choose to cross dark, emotional, thresholds  that we know will enslave us and prevent access to the life experience we say we want.

And some of us (and I’m admitting nothing here) refuse to cross a threshold that appears to lead nowhere.

Or has too many obstacles in front of it.

Or has no satisfaction guarantee.

No one I know would say that the experience of illness or death or financial loss were the happiest of their lives but most of my friends say that during those difficult times there were unexpected opportunities to cross new and meaningful thresholds of personal growth.  Many would say that it was during the difficult times that they identified and crossed the threshold into their current career or the ministry they serve.  Dan and I are among that group.

58 miles and seven hours into our journey we left Cottonwood Falls, Kansas.  By this time we had covered a whole lot of ground but not much geography and I’m thinking about Deuteronomy 30:19.

“I have set before you life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore, choose life, that both you and your descendents may live…” Deuteronomy 30:19

As we drove, Dan and I begin listing the life-giving thresholds we choose.

For emotional intimacy we choose the threshold of trust.

For humility we choose the threshold of confession.

For contentment we choose the threshold of gratitude.

For all things we choose the threshold of  prayer and faith.

We made a commitment not to cross any thresholds, either through our actions nor through the meditations of our hearts and minds that tempt us to compromise our principles or our beliefs.

We choose not to be impressed by appearances nor to be trapped by the desire to protect our image.

We choose to live “…as a tree that is planted by the waters, that spreadeth out its roots towards moisture: and it shall not fear when the heat cometh. And the leaf thereof shall be green, and in the time of drought it shall not be solicitous, neither shall it cease at any time to bring forth fruit.” Jeremiah 17:8

And we make no apology.

He was annoyed and quite perturbed.  Put out, I think.

He’d been fishing with his crew all night and caught nothing–zip.

I know the attitude that comes home on my man, who fishes for sport, when he has no catch. I can just imagine the effect on a man who fishes for his livelihood.

In my mind, I can see the shoreline of Lake Gennesaret, also known as the Sea of Galilee, and the boats.

There were a number of people walking the shoreline, with Jesus, that morning.

So many that he could not see them, individually, and they could not see him.

It’s just like Jesus to want to see each one of them.  It’s just like him to want to look into their eyes.

As Simon, who would soon be renamed Peter, began to dock his fishless, fishing boat, Jesus hollered over and asked Peter to take his boat back into the water, just far enough away from the shore,that Jesus could see the people and close enough that the people could see and hear him.

Simon Peter did what Jesus asked but I think he had some attitude going on.       And I think he held on to that attitude.  Nurtured it, you might say.

I think he stewed about his life the whole time that Jesus was speaking.

I think Simon Peter was so absorbed by his disappointment, that he didn’t hear one bit of what Jesus said, nor did he care.

General snarkiness, I think.   This I can relate to.

I think that when Jesus finished speaking to the crowd, he turned to Simon Peter and said, “Hey! Push out into deep water and let your nets out! Let’s get a catch for ya, before we go in!”

I think that the snarky, Simon Peter said, “Um. Jesus,we’ve been fishing hard all night and haven’t caught even a minnow!” I think his tone said, “Oh, so now you’re a fisherman?             “I thought you were a carpenter!”

Maybe Jesus raised one eyebrow right then…

Because Simon Peter quickly added,  “Nevertheless, if you say so, I’ll let out the nets.”  Still with a little attitude, I think.

And it was no sooner said and it was done—a huge haul of fish; so many that the weight threatened to break the nets.  Peter filled both boats with fish.

In my mind, I can see Simon Peter.  Recovering from the rush of adrenaline, fish still flopping at his feet, I think he was stunned.

I think that vivid images of another day, and another miracle; when Jesus had come to Simon Peter’s house in Capernaum and healed his wife’s mother, who was sick with a fever, flooded Peter’s mind.

I think he was amazed at how easily he had moved on from the awe and wonder he had known that day.

I think he was terrified that he was capable of the off-handed way he spoke to the Christ that day; as if Jesus was a common man.

I think his thoughts and his heart were racing.

Yeshua. Snarky. Son of God. Attitude. Messiah. Oh. God. Yahweh.

I am a wretched man.  Don’t even look at me.   I am not worthy.

Luke 5 vs.9-10 “For he was gripped with bewildering amazement [allied to terror] and he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord.”

And Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Be not afraid!  From now on, you will be a fisher of men!”

I think Jesus smiled. And maybe winked.

I think his tone said,

“I know you feel miserable but don’t get stuck there.”

“Look me in the eye, Peter.”

“Look me in the eye and let me pull you out.”

“Look me in the eye and know who I am.“

Isn’t that just like Jesus?

And isn’t Peter just like me.

It takes a heap of courage to make an about-face.   It also takes a heap of wisdom.

Wisdom allows me to discern the  difference between a knee jerk, fight or flight response to my environment, and the internal shout of my spirit that commands me to make an about-face.  The shout is what I hear from my gut, as soon as I know I’ve made a wrong turn. Courage is what allows me to make the about-face, now.

I’ve been thinking about the virtues that are fundamental to courage.  What is it that causes a woman to act in accordance with her beliefs, regardless of popular opinion? What makes her resolute?

I love everything about the word resolute! I hate that it is the root word of resolution, as in New Year’s Resolutions, since New Years Resolutions are often mere wishes, and the maker is rarely resolute about them!

Because I aspire to be more resolute,  it is critical that I, not only, understand the word, but all the nuances of the virtue.  I need to know what is not resolute; when I’m just being stubborn, for example, which is not a virtue, but is a character trait with which I am somewhat familiar.

The more I ponder over this virtue, the more I want it. It comes from confidence, principal, conviction, purpose, and belief.  It has no association with fear, arrogance, intimidation, popularity, or duplicity.  It epitomizes both personal power and personal responsibility. It understands that the freedom to cast the decisive vote in my life comes with the full responsibility and accountability for the outcome.

The  resolute woman casts her vote confidently, mindfully, and deliberately; and when she has made a wrong turn, which she will from time to time, she is able to correct her course quickly and accurately.  She knows her mind and her heart, and when she hears the command from her gut, she makes her  immediate about-face with precision, without apology, and with no need for approval.

Happy Easter from me and Chris Tomlin.

By the way, Chris is from Grand Saline, Texas, a tiny, East Texas town that holds new interest for me…

 

And this day shall become a memorial for you, and you shall observe it as a festival for the L-RD, for your generations, as an eternal decree shall you observe it. For seven days you shall eat unleavened bread, but on the first day you shall remove the leaven from your homes … you shall guard the unleavened bread, because on this very day I will take you out of the land of Egypt; you shall observe this day for your generations as an eternal decree. – Exodus 12:14-17

In the weeks approaching the Passover season I’ve been reading (all that I had time to read) Old Testament history and learning about this Jewish holiday. Some of  the articles were written by Jewish Rabbis and some by Christian Pastors.  Regardless of the writer, at least one part of the message was the same; prioritize the time to remember,  celebrate, and tell the stories of what God has done.

People of the Jewish faith will gather with friends and family from March 29th-April 6th for Passover; a celebration called Pesach, by the Jews.   For the first two nights they will remember, through the Pesach seder,the time when God caused their ancestors to be freed from their slavery to Egypt.  

The holiday has a specific intent thus, its name.  The word, seder, is derived from a Hebrew rootword meaning order; the seder dinner celebrates a specific set of information that must be discussed in a specific order.

This information, contained in the Old Testament book of  Exodus (Chapter 1-15) will be retold told through the symbolism of the seder table and the seder menu and through the words spoken and the songs sung.  The joy of the people will be restored and their hope renewed, as together, they recall evidence of a faithful God– their God.  Their El Shaddia; God Almighty who nourishes, supplies, satisfies and delivers his people from bondage. 

Somewhere in my reading, I came upon this pearl of wisdom from the Talmud; and thats when my little study of Passover started to get personal.  Here’s what the  Rabbis who studied Jewish law had to say:  “In every generation one must look upon himself as if he personally had gone out of Egypt.”  The article went on to explain  that the Hebrew word for Egypt  is the same word used for boundaries or things that hold you back.  Right about this point I began to feel a pressure, with which I am quite familiar, almost as if there were an elbow nudging me right in my soul.  The nudge usually happens right before the dots begin to connect.  This time was no exception.

The connecting began this way… 

So, yah…how do you prioritize your time?… hmmmm? … With your list of to-do’s, first?…  Your phone and your email inbox? … Your health concerns?…Your concerns about health care… and, um…the systems of government? 

 And then…

You can recall, can’t you?…Who made a request of your time…what they requested? … But can you recall the last time…you prioritized…the time…to…you know…to remember… meditate… to share the stories…about the times when God…was there…for you?…Hmmm? 

Furthermore… do you think…if…you did…remind yourself…daily…you know…like…in a way that was…like…order-ly?…Remembering…meditating…sharing the stories…of the things that God has done…   not…you know… like…as an after thought…but… more like…a priority…and like… um…it’s how you live? …  Do you think maybe the things that you’re worrying about might not seem SO big???  And maybe…if you also made it a priority… to intentionally…express some gratitude…it might lower your stress level… a little?   Hmmmm?

Maybe the Jews aren’t the only ones who need to be remembering and celebrating the time when they were set free?  Because girl, you’ve got some Egypts of your own but you’re a slave by choice!   I’m just sayin’ …

I’m feeling it.  When I stop telling my own stories, when I don’t intentionally allow myself, the precious gift of time, to remember all the moments when God has shown up inthe middle of my chaotic life, when I don’t remember my personal evidence of God, my God– I become a slave by choice.  I become a slave to expectations, mine and yours, I wrap myself up so tight in worry that I can’t breathe and soon I’ll be chasing the approval of  somebody, but I won’t have any idea who.

No thanks, I’ve been there already. If I choose to go again it will be like the first zillion, painful lessons were for nothing.

So no.  

Instead, I’m taking this week to practice what I learned from Pesach seder. 

I’m remembering.  I’m singing.  I’m taking the time.  

Because I’m grateful for the things He hath done. 

 

And if your son asks you in the future, saying, What are the testimonies, and the statutes, and the judgments, that the L-RD our G-d commanded you? You will say to your son, We were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt; and the L-RD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand. The L-RD gave signs and wonders, great and harmful, against Egypt, against Pharaoh, and against all his household, before our eyes: And he brought us out of there to bring us in, to give us the land that he promised our fathers. -Deuteronomy 6:20-23

 

 

I cringe, a little bit, every time I click on a button that says,  ’Follow Me!’   Even if it is Twitter and even if it only  means that I can choose or choose not to, read the 14o character sized thoughts of another person, I still cringe. 

I am follow resistant.

I am a student, though. I’m an eager and intentional student of those who have made their lives a practice of excellence.            I admit, I haven’t always been such an enthusiastic student.  For many years, the words; student, learning, instruction and excellence were, in my mind, synonymous with the words; subservient, vulnerable, control and the fear of failure. 

I was learning resistant.

The practice of excellence is just beyond the grasp of understanding for the perfectionist. The ability of the perfectionist’s mind is  limited by fear and the delusions of a  fragile ego.   The brutal  self assessment, of the perfectionist, is relentless. Rationalization, denial and delusions of grandeur must be mechanisms, created by the psyche of the perfectionist, to guard against the constant threat of mental break down.

The difference between the pursuit of perfect and the pursuit of excellence is joy.  Today I  live in the joyous state of seeking, learning, wonder and amazement. I’m no longer learning resistant.  I’m not resentful of instruction because I’m not afraid to be wrong.   

I’m not always follow resistant, either;  I have flashes of it. The “Follow Me!” button makes me cringe because, even at this point in my journey, a thin residue remains  from the years I lost while protecting my perfectionist self.  It’s a prideful, self-important, residue of distrust, and a need to control.   It’s a waste of my effort and energy.

I worked hard to let go of everything that would hinder learning.  I worked hard to gain wisdom of who and when I  follow.  I chose to become a follower of Jesus Christ and I learn from a select few of those who teach scripture.  I made myself a student of  of the original thought leaders in the areas of  marketing, management, passionate leadership, innovation and integrity and I still listen to, and learn from, my parents. 

While I’m no longer held captive by the curse of perfectionism, I still don’t understand the practice of mediocrity.  I still don’t understand the value system of  “I invest the least amount of effort that I can get by with.”   

It’s passionless, don’t you think?  There’s no life in it! No energy, no inspiration, no character, no fulfillment.    Nothing to learn and nothing to follow.  Limited.  Boring.  Blah.

Barry Gibbons said, “We swim in an ocean of ho-hum and I’m going to fight it– I’m going to die fighting it!”

Now there’s someone to follow.  

 

I just think…this is like…really profound…you know what I’m sayin’ ?

I thought I wasn’t going to talk to you again until Monday but this unusual example of personal integrity inspired me too much!   It always comes back to knowing why you do what you do, doesn’t it?