Living In The Moment

I am sitting in a strange time, sandwiched between a crisis of my father’s health and a crisis of my son’s poor decisions. Two opposite stages of life’s spectrum pushing at me as I am caught in the middle trying to be a good child and responsible parent at the same time.

God’s irony is not lost on me that my father and my son - who even have very similar dispositions – are leaning on each other during this time, mutually dependent for survival. I consider it a small blessing that my son is able right now to assist with the care of my father – and through this experience I am praying that my son will mature. So in this particular blessing I do see the handiwork of God, and I can feel the certainty that we are travelling in God’s greater story. As I reflect on this specific congruence of circumstances I have a glimpse of understanding that I must always be searching for where the connections are to God’s story rather than where He is connecting to mine.

Yesterday’s events gave me specific understanding of what “Living in the Moment” really means.

Having spent the morning with my father as we travelled to yet another doctor appointment, I noticed how my 89 year old father spends his “awake” time. Limited now to life in a wheelchair, with need of attendants for every human function, and suffering from dementia, it is difficult to imagine life from inside my dad’s psyche. This one-time “macho” man – policeman, sportsman, joke-telling Irishman- now spends his days barely speaking, mostly sleeping, and at the total mercy of those who care for him and their decisions for how he will spend his day.

Here is a survival tip I am learning from my dad – live only in the moment. Take each individual second and absorb it completely before it passes on.

I watched my father yesterday as we were seated in the waiting room, very attentively observing his surroundings, deeply concentrating on every printed poster, picture or person in his immediate surroundings. He was capturing the moments…not to store them for future reference, because the dementia has robbed him of that delight, but to live them for what they are in and of themselves. Fleeting moments that happen then move on. This morning I came to these words from Psalm 144 (v4) that seemed to capture my dad’s current state:

Man is like a breath;
His days are like a fleeting shadow

My dad has given me a glimpse of understanding of our positioning in God’s story.
Another shadow of learning came from the opposite side of the spectrum as I spent the afternoon in a different type of office with my son. As we work through a personal crisis of my son’s, a result of living too much in the moment without consideration of consequences or dangers, I see the second half of the equation.

While my father’s situation is like “breathing in” the moment, life requires a two-part action in order to survive. There is also the essential “breathing out” through our active responses to the moments of life. As we “breathe in”…observe and concentrate without taking for granted any of our surroundings…we must then “breathe out” in response to this glory we have observed. Our outward responses must be cognizant of the blessings we are surrounded with that impulsive and self serving actions can destroy.

So God, I thank you for this strange place you have placed me in to be able to observe and learn from these two men in my life. I am “breathing in” your glory and your love, working to absorb your wonder; and “breathing out” my amazement that even in these stressful circumstances you provide insight and comfort that “this too shall pass” in the fleeting shadow of life.

One day a great promise will be fulfilled with complete joy and understanding. Until that time I must continue “breathing in” and “breathing out” these moments of life.

Virtuoso Christian

I am presently immersed in a book on spiritual reading by Eugene Peterson called "Eat This Book". It is a challenging foray into the world of scripture as the source of our energy - where we consume the Word and then allow it to work from the inside out as we integrate ourselves into God's story.

Peterson shares a quote from Frances Young's book Virtuoso Theology that has really stuck with me as a metaphor for my own life:

Everyone recognizes the difference between an accurate but wooden performance of say, Mozart's Violin Concerto No. 1, and a virtuoso performance by Yitzak Perlman. Perlman's performance is not distinguished merely by his technical skill in reproducing what Mozart composed; he wondrously enters into and conveys the spirit and energy - the "life"- of the score. Significantly he adds nothing to the score, neither "jot nor tittle".

What a perfect metaphor for what we aspire to as pilgrims - to become virtuoso performers of the Word. It is not enough to merely know the scripture, or be able to quote chapter and verse, or to be able to exegete with the original Hebrew or Greek, or to take time every day to read scripture as a discipline...while all of these are admirable accomplishments they are not what separates a virtuoso from a regular musician. A virtuoso can take the musical notes, absorb them into his soul, contemplate on them until they permeate his being and then pour them back out through his instrument in a way that others can embrace the joy and the satisfaction they feel when the notes touch their ears.

I want to one day be that virtuoso that others may be able to capture the joy and satisfaction of the love that fills my soul.

In Between Times

Here I sit on the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday...

What does this day represent? It is a day with no special meaning on the Christian calendar and yet I think its very lack of identity or specialty speaks volumes to our mandate and what our own lives represent.

The first Christians spent this day within the confines of their religion. They honored the Sabbath. I imagine it was difficult to fully worship and honor God when they felt totally desolated by the loss of their hope for a saviour. The sense of abandonment that had to permeate their every thought. The roller coaster of emotions must have been churning through their bodies...despair, frustration, anger, grief, helplessness, guilt, fear, abandonment, resignation and maybe even bitterness...all these emotions tumbling over and over through their hearts.

But they responded to these emotions by returning to the basics of their faith. They honored God by honoring the Sabbath. They returned to what they did know - and this forced rest would require them to address these emotions within the the context of their relationship with Him. This special positioning of the Sabbath day in between Good Friday and Easter Sunday allowed God to once again take control of the "story". Honoring the Sabbath in the aftermath of the crucifixion required total submission to God and his authority.

So what does all this mean to me - an Easter Child?

As I sit here in my own "in between" time what can I learn from these first followers?

When I come to times of hopelessness or despair, I should return to my faith. I can employ the rhythm and ritual that has been created to embrace me and comfort me in difficult times. It is much better to practice the elements of my religion even when my heart might not be engaged, because the ritual will hold me tight within the shelter of His love. Rather than turning away or rejecting God, I should instead submit to Him and acknowledge His great authority.

As Christians we are all "in-between" times, living between the first and second coming of Christ. Our actions will reflect our attitudes and our hearts. Just as the first Christians outwardly expressed their submission to God by honoring the Sabbath after a devastating loss, we should be outwardly expressing our conviction that our individual stories are but a sentence of God's greater story - one that has a perfect and eternal happy ending.