The Loveliness of Christ

I have been reading a small book written by Samuel Rutherford. He lived in the 17th century. The book is The Loveliness of Christ. It really is a wonderful book. It is a collection of quotations from letters he wrote to friends. I decided to give you a taste today.

"Christ all the seasons of the year, is dropping sweetness; if i had vessels i might fill them, but my old riven, holey, and running out dish, even when I am at the well, can bring little away. Nothing but glory will make tight and fast our leaking and rifty vessels...How little of the sea can a child carry in his hand;as little do I take away of my great sea, my boundless and running over Christ."

"The floods may swell and roar, but our ark shall swim above the waters, it cannot sink, because a Savior is in it."

"I rejoice that he is come and hath chosen you in the furnace; it is even there where ye and he set tryst; that is an old gate of Christ's. He keepeth the good old fashion with you, that was in Hosea's days: 'Therefore, behold I will allure her, and bring her to the wilderness and speak to her heart.' (Hosea 2:14). There was no talking to her heart while he and she were in the fair and flourishing city and at ease; but only in the cold, hungry, waste wilderness, he allureth her, and whispered in news into her ear there, and said,'Thou art mine.'

May you enjoy the Loveliness of Christ today.

Mile 12

Not too long ago someone asked me to define "joy". That is a great question. It is difficult sometimes to differentiate between joy and feeling happy. Usually the definition of joy separates the experience of joy from the surrounding circumstances. Having chocolate cake on my birthday feels awfully good but probably isn't joy. So, how do we really describe it? I have been trying to process the things I learned from the Ironman triathlon. Here is my shot at joy. During the bike route they had food and water stations about every 15 miles or so. Normally you only carry two water bottles on your bike so stations like that are really important. The stations had volunteers holding out bottles of water or Gatorade or power bars and we would swoop in on our bikes and grab what we needed out of their hands. I guess that is as close as I will get to feeling like a hawk. Anyway, whenever I would see a station coming up my heart would jump a little, I would check to see what I needed and grab it as I went by. I felt something akin to elation and even some affection toward the volunteers who were standing out in the hot sun and providing what I needed. If I was really thirsty the feelings were even stronger. Later during the marathon at mile 12 I looked up and saw something else that made my heart jump. My daughter Rachel had decided to surprise me and had driven all the way from Virginia with my grandson Liam. At mile 12 they met me. I yelled and laughed and grabbed Liam up in my arms. At that point in the race I had already swam 2.4 miles, biked 112, and was at mile 12 of the run. I was sore in about every place I had a place. Every step hurt something and somewhere. Liam had no help to give. He couldn't relieve my discomfort or make my race easier and yet seeing him and holding him filled my heart. That is joy. The food stations made me happy because of what they had for me and how they could help me. Liam made me happy just for who he was. Jesus came to give us joy. Not the joy of filling our needs but the joy of who he his. I want to be able to experience the joy of the presence of Jesus whether I am at a birthday party or in a hospital room. When I am on my death bed, I want to look up and see Jesus and feel the way I felt on mile 12 of the Ironman.

Thinking of Home

There is a scene in the movie Elf where Will Ferrell (who plays Buddy the elf) meets his dad (James Caan) for the first time. Buddy is dressed like an elf so James Caan thinks he is a singing telegram and tells Buddy to go ahead and sing. Buddy wants to please his dad so he begins to sing. It is out of key, impromptu and hilarious. Buddy sings at the top of his lungs and it is stream of consciousness kind of thing where mostly he just yells, "I love you, I love you, I love you". Last weekend I dropped my youngest daughter off at college. Just before we were about to leave she asked her mom to go with her to see her room one more time. Her room is on the first floor. I decided it was time to give her a memory. I stood outside her window and began to sing my own Elf like song. Mostly I sang, "I am Becca Coffey's dad and I love her, I love her, I love her. She may be embarrassed but that is ok because I still love her, I love her, I love her." It was off key, impromptu, and in a word...priceless. She appears to have recovered but her counselor can only tell us so much. A few minutes later we stood by the car and prepared to leave. I hugged her so hard tears leapt from my eyes. It was hard to let her go. She has been a jewel in our house and to be honest I meant every word I sang. It was another bittersweet moment that made me long for heaven. Almost everything about it was sweet. She was ready for college, she will thrive and love it, she is growing up just the way we hoped, and yet she was leaving us. As she walked away from the car to go back to her new home she walked away with some of my heart. It was a good sadness but it was sad nonetheless. Some day there will be no sadness. That means not just the real sadness of death and sickness and broken relationships. But there won't even be the bittersweet sadness where almost everything is sweet and yet. The bittersweet first day of school when you put your little one on the bus for the first time or the day you watch them drive off in a car for the first time alone, or when you drop them off at college or when you place their hand in the hand of another. I am reminded that heaven is my home and the place I was built for. Until that day I will savor the sweetness and let the bitterness remind me I am only on a journey and home is still a ways off.

My Neighborhood a Little Darker

Jesus said, "You are the salt of the earth...and again he said, You are the light of the world". The world has changed a lot since those words were spoken. Around here we live in little neighborhoods. My neighborhood just got a little less salty. Two doors down from our house is where Harry and Caroline Gong lived until last week. We have a pretty large church so while I see a lot of people on Sunday, I don't know how they live their lives out the rest of the week. I have lived close enough to Harry and Caroline to know about them. Harry worked the parking lot crew here at church. I don't know all that Caroline did here at church but she was the hub of our neighborhood. She seemed to know everyone and everyone knew her. She seemed to love everyone and everyone loved her. If I wanted to know how someone was doing all I had to do was ask Caroline. She knew. She cared. People hung out down at the Gong house. It was a place where everyone felt at home and cared for. I think that is what Jesus had in mind when he called us salt and light. So, today I am reminded of just how bright one family can make a neighborhood and how much I already miss the taste of the Gongs.

A Will of Iron

Almost a year ago I decided that I wanted to attempt an Iron Man with my son Jeremy. For those who don't know, the Iron Man is an endurance race. The one we did was in Louisville. We swam 2.4 miles in the Ohio River, then biked 112 miles up and down the hills around Louisville, and then ran a marathon which is 26.2 miles. At 7am I was standing shoulder to shoulder with my son on the pier overlooking the Ohio River. At the sound of the cannon we looked at each other, did a fist bump, put our goggles on, and jumped in the river. I didn't see him again for a very long time. We both finished in the allotted time. Jeremy quite a bit faster. We are both happy and sore today. I noticed something as I hung around the 3000 or so competitors. There was an amazing camaraderie. It wasn't the normal competition. People asked about each other, showed concern, and genuine respect. At one point in the bike leg there was an up and back where cyclists pass each other. I passed Jeremy and we yelled to each other. I turned to the biker next to me and said,"Hey, that was my son" and he said, "That is so cool. Good for you". There was a feeling that you wanted everyone to do well... to finish strong. I think there are two reasons. One is the result is unknown. If you are playing a basketball game you know someone is going to win and someone is going to lose. But in the Iron Man you really don't know if you or anyone you talk to is actually going to finish. During the course of the 140.6 miles of swimming, biking, and running virtually anything can happen to derail the best prepared. The other thing is that it is so very difficult. We were all just hoping to survive. The whole reason for this kind of race is to test yourself not compare yourself to others. It made me want life to be like this. For those of us who are Christians it really should be. Life can be hard. For many of you it feels like an endurance race right now. We should all know life is hard and lean over to each other to give encouragement and offer strength if we have any. I want to quit competing and start encouraging. Let's all make it a point to find someone to encourage tomorrow. You never know if you are the one that will give them to will to keep going.